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"Oh, they would never do that," he said. "Unless you tried to hurt me, I guess. Most you'd get is a nip or two if you got violent with them. My cousin's a former K9 handler. He's the one who helped me train 'em.”
Faith nearly told Jedson that she was a K9 handler too, but didn’t want to remind him about the “dog trainer tricks.” Then again, he’d probably figured it out since Turk obeyed her every command with the same professionalism with which his dogs obeyed him.
“They do a damned good job of pretending otherwise,” Michael said.
Jedson chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve had some problems with thieves for a little while now. They like to cut holes in the fence and steal scrap metal. I started sleeping nights here, and I got this—” he patted his weapon “—just in case things got touchy. I had a couple dogs—” he nodded to two Rottweilers who were sitting on either side of Turk and sharing a beef bone with him “—Big Guy and Buddy, but I decided to get some more. Figured a dozen guard dogs would be enough to scare off even the most hardened criminals.
“How long ago was this?” Michael asked.
Jed scratched his thickly-maned chin. “Oh, a little over two years back, I reckon. Maybe close to three.” He nodded at his dogs. “Most of these pups are only three or four. Except for Big Guy, Buddy and Misty.” He gestured to the Doberman who had fought Turk earlier. “They’re my senior citizens. Misty’s nine, and Big Guy and Buddy are both ten.”
“Damn,” Michael said, “they’re in great shape for that age.”
Jedson beamed and puffed his chest out like a kid on Christmas. “Well, thank you kindly, Agent. I sure do love my dogs.” He looked at Turk and nodded. “He looks about eight or nine, right?”
“Just turned eight,” Faith said.
“He looks good too,” Jedson said. “Tough dogs, Shepherds. Like Dobermans. Fiercely loyal.”
Faith thought of the many times Turk had protected her over the years and smiled. “Yes. They sure are.”
“Sorry about the scar,” Jedson added, pointing at the long scar on Turk’s left side. “Line of duty?”
Faith’s smile faded slightly. She and Turk had been introduced shortly after their injuries at the hands of Jethro Trammell, the original Donkey Killer. They had rehabilitated together. In many ways, Faith owed her recovery to Turk. “Yes,” she answered, “a long time ago.”
“That’s rough.” Jedson shook his head. “Never could understand people who were cruel to their dogs. All they want is for you to love them.”
“So it seems,” Michael said.
Faith’s smile returned when she saw a massive Rottweiler head pressed against Michael’s own while one of the Pit Bulls wriggled under his arm and laid its own head on his chest. It lifted its eyes to Michael’s and looked at him worshipfully.
“You should get a dog,” she commented.
“Well, Ellie’s not… anyway, we should get to the interview and get out of Mr. Franks’ hair.”
“Oh please, call me Jed,” Jedson replied. “Mr. Franks sounds like the guy who sells hot dogs at the ballgame.” He threw his head back and laughed briefly, then said, “Well, I hope Ellie, whoever she is, comes around. Ain’t nothing on Earth like a good dog.”
Faith glanced at Turk, and her smile faded once more. Ellie was afraid of dogs because the last time she had seen a dog, Turk had picked up on Faith's mistrust of Ellie and lunged at her. It had driven a wedge between her and Michael that nearly ruined their friendship.
“Jed,” Faith said, moving forward with the interview. “Can you confirm your whereabouts this past Sunday, Wednesday and Friday nights?”
“Friday meaning yesterday?” he asked.
“Yes.”
"Well, I was here Sunday and Wednesday. Security cameras here don't work, but maybe the warehouse across the street saw me pull in and not pull out until the morning. Friday night, I go out drinking with the boys at the motorcycle club. Good thing it wasn't tonight, or they would have held you on the fence until I showed up after midnight."
“Can anyone verify your presence at the bar last night?”
Jed grinned. “Well, from what I understand, there’s pictures online of me taking my shirt off and singing Alan Jackson for karaoke. I don’t know if y’all want to see that, but it’ll prove I didn’t kill anyone.”
His smile vanished suddenly. “Hey, you said someone’s using dogs to do this?”
“Yes,” Faith replied.
He sighed and shook his head. “That’s too bad. I could see Coyotes and Wolves killing people and being all right. Maybe not coyotes unless they’re desperate, but dogs? They were bred to be man’s best friend. You gotta really mess with their heads to turn them into murderers.”
Faith noted that Jed seemed much more concerned with the impact this was having on the dogs than the impact it was having on the humans, but he was friendly and once convinced the agents weren’t threats, he immediately dropped his aggression. If his alibi was checked out, they could rule him out as a suspect. Anyway, the dogs didn't seem like the type to see red, or the three of them would likely not be alive to talk about it.
