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“Someone cleverer than the Hannant guy.”
One. Two. Three. She released a long, slow exhale.
“But I’m not here to talk about that. My job is to give you another reminder, a painful one this time—”
As the blade arced close to her face, she flinched away from him and he caught her by the hair.
“Don’t make it hard for me. I need to make it look like you could have cut yourself.”
* * *
Stepping from the air-conditioned house into the June night was like walking into a furnace. Spencer remembered his father had a phrase to describe the Mustang Valley seasons. Winter is warm, spring is hot and summer is hotter than hell. At least Katrina had made sure the dogs had a large, state-of-the-art kennel, complete with its own AC system. Kennel wasn’t a fancy enough name for the accommodation Katrina provided for her dogs. It was more like a small house.
He spoke a word of quiet reassurance to Boris and the obedient canine fell silent. Holly and Dobby took their cue from the top dog and Spencer was able to check out the yard without distractions. Silently, he made his way to the point where he’d seen the figure in the shadows. Although the yard was in near darkness, from his vantage point at the window, he’d gotten the impression from the person’s size and physique that it was a man.
When he reached the place where he’d seen that person skulking, there was no one around. Reaching into the pocket of his sweatpants for his cell phone, he pulled it out and activated the flashlight. The yard was a large one, and scanning it using such a small beam would take all night. Luckily, Spencer had a far more effective method at his disposal.
She had given Spencer the code to open the kennel door and he used it now, stepping quickly inside. Holly and Dobby pranced around him in delight, clearly expecting some middle-of-the-night treats. After giving them a quick pat, Spencer reached for Boris’s work harness, which he’d hung on a hook near the door.
His canine partner came quickly to attention. Boris understood exactly what was going on. Once he was in the harness, Boris became a police officer, a dedicated member of the team.
“Okay.” Spencer finished fastening the clips in place. “Let’s go.”
The other dogs whined, but he was relieved that they didn’t bark when he and Boris left them. When he’d locked the kennel door again, Spencer crouched beside Boris.
Boris was trained as a scent-specific search dog. If he was given something belonging to a person, he would discriminate that scent from the others around it and use it to hunt for the individual it matched. In this case, those skills were no use because Spencer didn’t know who they were searching for.
Instead, because Spencer didn’t have anything belonging to his target to give the dog to guide him, he would have to send Boris on an air-scenting search. This was a hard skill for a dog to learn, one that was taught after the animal had become proficient in trailing. Boris would probe the whole area, seeking human-scent particles. He wouldn’t be detecting a precise scent. The dog would lead Spencer to any person he found. That was exactly what Spencer wanted him to do because anyone on Katrina’s property was trespassing.
“Find.” So long as the same instruction was used each time, it didn’t matter what that word was.
This was what Boris did best and he loved his job. Quivering with pleasure, the dog took off with his nose to the ground. Although the light was poor and it was hard to see his dark coat, the reflective fabric of his harness made him easy to follow in the light of Spencer’s flashlight.
The dog worked systematically, starting with the perimeter. When he reached the area where Spencer had seen the shadowy figure, he circled several times. Snuffling at the lawn, he wagged his tail before taking off toward the house. To Spencer, who knew his partner’s signals, it was a clear indication that he had picked up a scent. When they reached the house, Boris halted beneath the window of the downstairs closet. It was the same one left open the first time an intruder had gotten into the house.
Back then, Katrina had believed she must have left the window unlatched by mistake. Now it hung wide. But Spencer knew for sure that he’d checked every door and window before he served dinner. Which meant this one had been pried open from the outside. On closer inspection, Spencer could see that the hinges appeared to have been damaged.
As he took in the implications of what he was seeing, his cell buzzed in his pocket. Snatching it out, he read the brief message. It was an emergency communication from Katrina’s cell phone. He didn’t know how she’d managed to activate it, but he knew what she was telling him. She was locked inside her own home with an intruder.
He drew the key from his pocket and broke into a run. Boris stayed at his heels and he knew his obedient partner would remain there until given an order to take down the target. When he reached the back door, he paused, trying to remember leaving the house.
Had the key grated in the lock? Had the door creaked? He didn’t want to alert the guy inside to his presence, but acting fast was his priority.
To hell with it. Just get in there.
After unlocking and opening the door as quietly as he could, he stepped inside. After a quick scan of the kitchen, he noticed nothing out of place. Then he heard a man’s voice, a low growl from the living room.
“I need to make it look like you could have cut yourself.”
That was all the incentive he needed to propel him into the hall with his weapon drawn. Standing to one side of the living-room door, he took a quick peek inside. And the blood in his veins turned to ice.
Katrina was pressed into a corner of the sofa with her hands hidden at her sides. A tall man stood with his back to the door. Spencer could see the knife in his hand as he leaned close to her.
There was no way Spencer could get a clear shot at the guy without endangering Katrina. There was only one thing to do. Sending his canine partner up against a guy with a knife wasn’t his preferred option, but there was no choice.
“Hold.”
Before the intruder even had time to swing around, Boris had darted into the room and clamped his jaws around the man’s calf. It was a paralyzing grip rather than a bite. The dog’s teeth would not penetrate the flesh.
