Page 67 of Protect My Heart

Jim scratched his chin. His ears would start bleeding if she didn’t get to the point soon.

“Anyway, he watched her. He was sneaky about it but I could tell. No one reads that slow. Heck, my brother’s in second grade and he reads faster than this guy.”

He snapped to attention. “He was watching her?”

“Oh yeah. He never turned the page. And when the lady and other guy left, he closed his book and left. Didn’t even leave a tip.”

“Can you describe the guy at the table?” His fingers twitched as he readied to write.

“Older than my dad. He had short brown hair.”

“How tall? My height?”

“No, I’m almost as tall as him. Oh, and he was wearing a suit, and old shoes.”

“What do you mean old shoes?” Jim made a note on his pad.

“The kind like my grandpa wears. They had all the stitching on them. They were brown.” She ran her hands through her ponytail as she talked.

“Did you hear him speak?”

She shook her head.

“Any identifying marks?”

“He had a red mark on his neck, here.” She gestured to the nape of her neck. “Like one of those birthmarks. My uncle has one of those.”

After a few more questions, Jim thanked her and handed her to an officer who could compile an artist rendering of the unsub. He joined CJ and the ladies.

His partner was ending a call. “We need to go to my uncle’s house. He just got home and something’s wrong.”

The hairs on the back of Jim’s neck stood at full attention. “What is it?”

CJ shoved his phone in his pocket, and turned toward Jim, but didn’t meet his gaze. “We should go.”

The drive to the Whittier house dragged on, even with the sirens and speed. Jim’s foot twitched. He wanted answers, but he knew his partner would tell him when he was ready. Pushing CJ accomplished nothing.

The silence in the car was deafening. CJ didn’t speak until they reached the house. He stayed Jim with a hand on his upper arm. “Walt found something. We can’t be sure, but it looks like someone took Tigger.”

“What?” The air in Jim’s lungs clogged. Sympathy filled his partner’s eyes. “The bastard took my dog. Why?”

He knew why. Doc had bonded with his dog almost the moment they met. The unsub saw Tig as leverage.

“You and the dog were a barrier to him getting Liz. Plus she cared about Tigger. It would be easier for this guy to grab the dog instead of you, a cop.”

They walked into the house and the scene said it all. A broken door and a half eaten raw steak on the floor. No dog. “The crime scene unit will be here soon, but I bet that steak is pumped full of drugs.”

Jim wouldn’t take that bet, because he knew his partner was right. Anger boiled in Jim’s gut. He wanted this guy bad. He’d kill him for taking Doc, but for taking his dog, too... The most painful torture wouldn’t be enough.

You don’t mess with a man’s dog.

“Jim, up here.” Walt motioned from the top of the stairs.

His legs pumped as hard as his heart as he cleared the stairs. Walt motioned to the Doc’s bedroom. Jim pulled to a halt in the doorway. The mess on the floor drew his attention. The room was spotless other than the spilled lotions and powder. He stepped close, careful not to disturb any evidence.

“CJ look at this.” He pointed to the smear on the ground. “Is that an arrow?”

“That’s definitely an arrow.” He snapped a couple pictures.