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J.C. turned a frustrated look on Dale. “Try to keep an eye on her.”
“Will do.”
“I don’t need eyes on me, I need eyes on the trail,” Heather groused as she walked beside the footprints leading away from the dog run. “Look, they were dragging something.”
“Or someone.”
He was right, but she didn’t want to think about it that way. “You saw the fabric in the kennel by the office.”
“Pretty hard to miss.”
She agreed. “Whoever attacked the shelter probably stuffed him inside that kennel while they culled the dogs.”
“Probably.”
“So they walk in, the dogs raise the alarm, and the perps take down Terry when he comes to check on things.”
“Logical on all counts.”
She paused, examining every broken twig and crushed leaf in an effort to sort out the real trail. J.C. had been at a disadvantage with only his flashlight when he’d arrived in the pre-dawn darkness. She had the benefit of more sunlight and a decent idea of what the perps were really after.
“They made a false trail?”
She answered Dale’s question with a slow nod. “But I think only one. J.C. would’ve logically assumed the perps would head back to the shelter.”
“For vehicles or whatever.”
“Yeah. Which makes me wonder why Terry didn’t call someone when they pulled up.”
“If he was—”
“Just stop.” She blew her bangs out of her eyes. “He wasn’t in on it.” Each word was squeezed out between her gritted teeth. “Focus on the facts in front of us.”
“I only see nature in front of us.”
She ignored him in favor of sorting out the trail. “Here.” She carefully lifted a fallen pine bough from the dirt. “Tennis shoes,” she said pointing at the tell-tale mark. “Someone did a pretty good job hiding this trail.”
“Or maybe the branch just dropped.”
“No.” Nature rarely accommodated people that way. She crept along until she found the next shoe print. Dale gave her plenty of space to assess and decide on every sign. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, his quiet courtesy surprised her. Knowing he had her back gave her confidence as she tracked Terry’s shoe prints.
“He did have a record,” she said at last. “Did a short stint in juvie at fourteen for aggravated assault.”
“Gangs?”
“Yeah. I know I sound sheltered, but I can’t imagine how bad life must be that gang life is a valid choice. It was a rough start to a rougher life,” she said. “Oh no.”
“What?”
“Dog prints.”
“Isn’t that a good thing? Maybe Terry and the loose dogs made a run for it.”
“No.” She shook her head. “This looks like the dogs were chasing him.”
“How can you tell?”
“Years of practice out here camping and hunting with my dad.”
