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“Hail to the winner?”
“Don’t be crass.”
“I thought you’d be happier about recovering one of the lost.”
“I am.” She stood up, still rubbing Daisy’s ear so the dog would stick close to her side.
“But you’re thinking the worst.”
“I am,” she admitted. “Come on.”
Chapter 6
Nearing the place where Daisy had appeared, Heather found a small clearing. A few sturdy pines and reedy saplings surrounded a lifeless body. Terry. His body had come to rest in an awkward sprawl. His open eyes stared sightlessly up at the sky. Blood pooled from open wounds at his throat and belly. By sheer determination she held back the instinctive, horrified wail of dread and sorrow.
“Wait here,” Dale ordered, stepping in front of her.
Daisy leaned into her, clearly happy to obey the order and help Heather do the same. The dog must have lingered nearby all this time. She stroked Daisy’s ears. “That isn’t necessary.” Struggling with overwhelming guilt, it was all she could do to get the simple words past the lump in her throat.
It should have been her on that bloody patch of ground. She knew it. Lester’s bastards should have chased her down and left her to die in the woods. But she’d been with Dale. At dinner. Pretending to be engaged. Leaving her friend out here to pay the ultimate price.
“Why?” She wasn’t sure what kind of answer she expected. Death was part of living, but dying like this… She cleared her throat. “Why him?”
“If the crew was expecting the shelter to be unattended…” Dale’s voice trailed off as he walked carefully to the other side of the body.
He didn’t have to finish the thought. She understood the meaning. “They couldn’t leave witnesses who might identify them,” she managed.
“There are defensive wounds on the hands.”
She’d noticed.
“Looks like he took a beating before they let him try to outrun the dogs.”
So logical. She should follow his example, except it was too easy to imagine how the dogfighters had hunted down her friend. She prayed for Terry even as she vowed to get even for this attack.
“Murder ups the game,” Dale said.
The game was over unless they found evidence that pointed to a suspect. Anything less meant zero consequences for the people involved.
No prosecutor would take her word. Hell, no law enforcement agency had the time for what they saw as a soft-hearted woman worried about a few dogs being abused. No one seemed to care about the scope and reach of this operation. No one but Dale—and even he harbored doubts about her.
“Takes a sick person to let a dog do the dirty work.”
Her temper hit the flash point. “He has a name. Terry. Use it,” she ordered. “He was my friend. Terry is the whole reason I had anything to bring to you.”
“He knew Lester’s system?”
She glared at him.
“Terry knew the system?” Dale corrected.
“Yes.” She slumped to her knees and then sat back on her heels. Utterly defeated. “He’d met a couple of guys who knew about it during his time behind bars.” Terry had often joked about understanding just how the shelter dogs felt, all locked up waiting for food and yard time.
She heard Dale’s footsteps as he approached, but she kept her eyes and hands on Daisy. She didn’t trust herself not to rail at the FBI agent she’d counted on for help.
“We’ll crack this, Heather.”
His confidence was not contagious. Or soothing.
