AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Oh God, no,” Dr. Jensen said, “Dogs rarely hunt in packs, even feral dogs. When they do, it’s fraught with competition and violence. The smaller dogs would be chased off or eaten. And they would absolutely not share a kill. That’s just not how dogs work, domesticated dogs, anyway. They’re not wolves. They don’t cooperate well. No, this is certainly the result of training.”
“Yeah,” Faith said, “we found bootprints.”
“I’m not surprised,” Dr. Jensen replied. “I said from the beginning that this was a human killer and not accidental attacks.”
“I don’t suppose you’re as good with shoeprints as you are with bite marks?” Michael asked drily.
“I’m afraid not,” Dr. Jensen replied. “I was never quite as good with people as I was with animals.”
They left the coroner's office and headed upstairs to Tom's desk. Tom was sitting on the edge of his desk, arms folded across his chest, and talking to a few deputies. He waved them off when he saw the agents approach. "What are we looking at?" he asked.
“Six different dogs, six different breeds,” Faith replied. “Working together to kill and… well, anyway, it’s not normal for dogs of these varying breeds to work well together. There’s definitely a human behind this.”
Tom nodded. “So nothing we didn’t already know?”
“I’ll write down the breeds he listed,” Faith replied. “That can narrow down animal control’s search. We should also prioritize people with a history of interacting with dogs professionally. Our killer is an excellent trainer to be able to control the animals like this.”
Tom shrugged. “I’ll take it.”
“Anything on the family angle?” Michael asked.
“Nothing that jumps off the page,” Tom replied. “We’re going to have to wait to interview them until George is officially identified and the family notified.”
“Right,” Faith said. “Well, at least we know not to go looking for coyotes anymore.”
“Thank God for small blessings,” Michael added.
Faith wasn’t sure she’d characterize it as a blessing. If wild animals weren’t responsible, then there was someone out there killing people with a pack of vicious dogs.
Then again, take the trappings of civilization away from a person, and what you're left with is nothing more than another animal.
CHAPTER NINE
He woke with the first light of dawn but remained in bed, smiling slightly as he waited. A few minutes later, he heard the pitter patter of paws big and small. A moment after that, a massive snout pushed into his face. He laughed and wrapped his arms around Prince Edward, his stately and not-quite-elderly Great Dane. Prince Edward was not quite elderly, but he was old enough that he was permitted to stay home when the others went hunting.
As Prince Edward solemnly licked his face, he grinned at the collection of faces gathered around his bed. He enjoyed Prince Edward’s attentions for a few moments longer, then rolled out of bed. The dogs immediately began rushing for the kitchen.
“Ah ah ah,” he said, grinning and wagging his finger. “Puppies with dirty muzzles and paws don’t get to eat.”
The dogs shifted direction, rushing toward the back door. After a slight scuffle at the door, they lined up and took turns running outside and swimming across a narrow moving pool. He had paid nearly a hundred thousand dollars to have the pool and the running water installed, but it was worth it. He had nearly twenty dogs to care for, and it wasn’t practical for one man to bathe twenty dogs.
The puppies shook themselves when they got out of the pool, then trotted back to the house. He waited with a thick terrycloth towel and dried each pup quickly and thoroughly before sending them to eat. Each dog trotted calmly to its own food bowl. Each bowl contained precisely portioned helpings of food that differed from breed to breed. It consistently amazed him how many people accepted the assertion that all dogs could eat the same diet.
Well, these dogs would never have to worry about that again. Their owners were all blissfully unaware of their existence. Most were blissfully unaware of anyone’s existence.
He wondered if it was a mistake to have started killing his victims in town. He had moved his activities closer to home so that people would notice and think twice about earning his wrath. It was too soon to tell if his actions would make a difference, but he had to try. It wasn’t enough just to kill them. There were too many. He could kill all his life and never make a dent in the number of assholes that filled the world.
But if he could get people to realize, to understand and start talking about this issue, then maybe he could make a difference. Maybe even within his own lifetime.
Well, that was beside the point. One had to do the right thing even when one didn’t notice an improvement in the world because of it.
He reached for the last dog, but his hands landed on air. He frowned and looked around for the last puppy, a beautiful King Charles Spaniel that had until recently belonged to one Gigi Demetrious.
“Trotter?” he called. “Trotter, where are you?”
There was no response. The other dogs ignored the call, enjoying their meals and taking care not to make a mess on their alpha’s floor.
He stood, disquiet seeping into his veins. He walked toward the dog’s bedrooms, calling for Trotter again.
