Page 23 of So Alone

The dogs rushed.

The criminal shrieked, a sound more reminiscent of a dying wildcat than a pregnant cow, and spun on his heel, another demonstration of truly shocking agility.

Alas, his luck ran out rather swiftly. He could jump, and he could twirl, but he couldn’t run. He managed a half-dozen waddling shuffles before he tripped and fell heavily. He landed on his massive belly and rolled over just in time for the first of the dogs—a lean and powerful Doberman—tore into him.

The killer watched as the dogs: the Doberman, a Rottweiler, an Alsatian—he had never liked the name German Shepherd—a Bull Terrier, a Whippet and a King Charles Spaniel, all ripped the fat man to pieces. This one lasted longer than the others. The dogs focused on the fatty midsection, and it was a few minutes before it occurred to the Rottweiler that their prey might make less noise if its throat was torn out.

After the dogs had eaten their fill, the killer called them back.

“Good dogs,” he said with a grin. “Good dogs, all of you. I’m so proud of you.”

He took a moment to thank and praise each dog before leading them back to his waiting truck. In the distance, he could hear the growling coughs of the coyotes. They would descend upon the remains before too long. It was very possible that there would be nothing left for the sheriffs to find by the time the city park opened in the morning.

That was too bad. He would have preferred to leave a message for those who might feel an urge to commit the same crimes. Perhaps with his next one, he would arrange to preserve the remains long enough for the world to get a good look at them.

He started his truck and drove away, his dogs resting obediently in the bed. He looked out the window at the moon, full and bright in the sky. He smiled. He had never seen anything so peaceful.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Faith’s radio buzzed, startling her back to wakefulness. She cursed inwardly for being caught napping. She couldn’t recall that ever happening before. Since joining the Marine Corps out of high school, she had never slept on the job.

She answered her phone. “Bold.”

“Got something,” Tom’s voice replied, tense with excitement. “Coyote, heading your way.”

“How many?” Faith asked, getting to her feet.

“Just one,” he said, “but he’s got blood on his muzzle.”

Faith’s excitement faded. “Sheriff, that blood could be from anything, and if there’s only one, he wouldn’t be attacking humans.”

“He could have split from his pack after the kill,” Tom protested.

Faith doubted it, but she agreed to stop the animal. Maybe they could find some clue as to why they were growing bolder.

“Turk,” she called. “Come.”

“Can I come too?” Michael asked drily.

Faith ignored him, but he followed anyway. The three of them hit the ground and started jogging in the direction the deputy indicated.

“We’re doing this for one coyote?” Michael asked.

“We’re grabbing at every straw we can find,” Faith retorted.

“You’re telling me,” he replied.

They ran for a half mile or so, Turk jogging lightly as he sniffed the air for a sign of their quarry. They ran until they nearly reached the front of the industrial park. Then Turk barked and sprinted.

“Don’t hurt it!” Faith called after Turk. “Just hold it!”

They saw it a few moments later, thin, sinuous and long-legged. It immediately sprinted away when it saw Turk but released no cry. Faith felt a touch of disquiet at that.

The coyote easily outpaced the human agents, but Turk caught it quickly, leaping in front of it and backing it into a fence surrounding one of the active lots.

The coyote bared its teeth and growled, flattening its ears as Turk barked and bared his own teeth. Michael and Faith approached carefully, closing to within ten yards or so.

Faith watched the coyote and determined very quickly that it wasn’t interested in fighting Turk. In fact, it seemed terrified of him in spite of its bared teeth and continual snarl. It’s tail was tucked in between its legs and it leaned back against the fence, cowering instinctively as Turk held it there.

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