Page 45 of So Alone

“True that,” Michael said. “We’re the originals.”

Faith opened her computer and started searching for the study. She found it ten minutes later from an issue three years and four months old. She opened the FBI database and plugged in the names of each contributing author. A minute later, she had a hit.

“Got him,” she said.

Michael leaned close enough that she could smell his aftershave. It was a familiar smell, but she was excited enough by the lead not to fall into nostalgia.

“Dr. Karl Vanheusen,” she said. “Who just happens to live right here in Goldwood.”

“Well, well,” Michael said. “Looks like we’re paying someone a late-night visit.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

He took a deep breath and forced a smile as he knocked on the door. It opened a crack, and a little old lady peeked her head warily at the stranger knocking on her door as dark rapidly settled on Goldwood.

“Can I help you?” she asked, her voice a mixture of that wariness and annoyance.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, ma’am,” he said. “I’m looking for my dog. He’s a King Charles Spaniel.”

She stared blankly at him. He pushed down his irritation and said, “They’re a small breed with long ears and long red-brown fur. His name is Trotter. He got out of his fence this morning, and I’ve been looking for him all day. Have you seen or heard anything at all?”

He really had been out all day. He had knocked on every door in his neighborhood looking for Trotter. He had explored the local park where he sometimes took Trotter on walks and even risked a return to the central park to look for him. In his desperation, he had even taken Prince Edward out to look for him, but the old dog lost Trotter’s scent at the main boulevard a half-mile from the house.

At least they hadn’t found a body.

Yet, a dark voice reminded him.

He pushed that voice away and repeated, “Please. I love him so much. If you know anything, please tell me.”

Tears came to his eyes, and those tears finally swayed the older woman. She opened the door a little wider and smiled comfortingly. “Well, I have good news, young man.”

He perked up. “You found him?”

“Well,Ididn’t find him,” she said, “but the sheriffs did.”

His heart dropped to his feet. He heard it thumping in his eardrums, and it was only through a massive effort of will that he kept smiling. “R—really?”

“Yes, I think so,” she said. “I was walking to the local convenience store—I rarely drive, especially when my destination is so close by—and I saw a commotion taking place at a playground.”

“The playground a block over,” he said.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I heard sirens and saw a bunch of sheriff’s department cars parked in front of the playground. I didn’t stay long, mind you. I’ve learned from my youth to mind myownbusiness.”

“But you saw my dog?” he said, “you’re sure of it?”

“Oh yes,” she said. “I looked over and saw a small dog with beautiful red hair, just like you described. A woman from the FBI was picking him up.”

The world spun around him. For a terrifying moment, he thought he might actually faint. He took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on the older woman’s eyes.

She frowned. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice a hoarse croak. “I’m just so relieved. FBI? You’re sure?”

“Oh yes. She was wearing a vest with the letters in bright white. You know, I never knew the FBI rescued dogs.”

“Yeah, me either,” he said. “Well, I should go pick him up. Thank you for your help.”

“Of course, young man,” she said, smiling. “I’m glad I was able.”

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