Page 43 of So Alone

Faith stood, her senses instantly alert. The deputy’s voice was tense and strained. “What is it, Tom?”

“We just found a dog on the street,” he said, “some sort of spaniel. There’s blood on the muzzle.”

***

Tom waited with animal control at the small playground where the dog had been found. When Faith and Michael arrived, he gestured at the dog. Faith could clearly see it was a King Charles Spaniel. She would bet her badge that the name emblazoned on the small bone-shaped tag that hung from its collar was Trotter.

“Animal control is ready whenever you are. I told them to wait in case you wanted to interact with the dog before it’s sedated.”

The spaniel gave a bark when it saw Turk and trotted amiably over. Turk peered more closely at it, but when the animal was within five yards, Turk recoiled and stiffened. He started to bare his teeth, but when the spaniel continued to trot over, tail wagging happily, he closed his lips again and simply stared uncomfortably at the smaller dog.

The spaniel stopped in front of Turk and barked in greeting. Turk dipped his head warily, and the spaniel trotted over to Faith.

Trotting turned out to be appropriate. As Faith suspected, the dog was none other than the infamous Trotter, former neglected companion of one Gigi Demetrioius.

Faith looked at Michael. “This is Gigi’s dog.”

“And it’s eaten recently.”

Faith turned back to Trotter and saw the caked, dried blood around the muzzle. Trotter stared back at her with bright, friendly eyes and barked his greeting again.

Fatih and Michael shared another look. An animal control officer with a net approached, looking questioningly at Faith. Faith shook her head. “A leash is fine, officer. This dog isn’t vicious.”

“But the blood,” Michael pointed out.

“I know,” Faith replied. “Something doesn’t add up here.”

“Are we sure this is one of the dogs and he didn’t just pick up a rat?”

“It’s possible he’s just been lost since Gigi lost him, but…” she ran her hands up and down Trotter’s sides, to the animal’s obvious pleasure. His midsection was well-filled out, perhaps even very slightly overweight, “I doubt it. Someone’s been feeding him.” She looked over his coat. “And bathing and grooming him.”

“Well, we need to get him to the station,” Tom replied. “We can confirm the identity of the blood on his muzzle and maybe we’ll get lucky and find fingerprints or DNA from whoever’s been feeding him.”

“Yeah,” Faith said, “sounds good.”

She picked up the small dog, who settled into her arms and closed its eyes. Michael stiffened a little, seeing her hold the dog, but violence was clearly nowhere near Trotter's mind as he snuggled and promptly fell asleep.

She handed the sleeping dog to the animal control officer and asked, “Be gentle with him. I don’t think he’s violent.”

“We’ll be gentle, ma’am,” the officer replied, “but he’ll still have to be kept in isolation. I’ll make sure we interact with him as much as possible, but until we know for sure he’s not violent, he’ll have to be kept alone.”

“That’s fine,” she said, “Just don’t put him down all right?”

"No, ma'am," he replied, shaking his head. "We can't put an animal down if it's evidence in a case."

She smiled briefly and turned to Tom. “Call me if you find anything.”

“We will,” he assured her. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the hotel,” she said. “I’m going to try and sleep. If you find something, call me, though. I don’t mind being woken up for a lead.”

“Will do.”

Back at the hotel, Michael headed to the shower. Faith put the tv on for Turk and told him to sit, then stepped outside. She stayed in front of the window so Turk could see her and called David.

“Hey, Faith,” he said. “What’s up?”

“Hey, David,” she said. “I need your help.”

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