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“When did you learn what happened to Maria?”
"I was just getting up to shower—the dogs were finally asleep—and I heard sirens. Normally, I figure it's none of my business, and I'll just let them do their thing, but considering what had happened the night before, I thought I'd go see what was going on. I came outside and saw them going into Maria's house. One of them—a real mean-looking woman—saw me staring and came to talk to me. I think she thought I might've done it at first. She might've just seemed suspicious, though. She had one of those sour faces, you know? Like they've just smelled something bad."
Faith guessed he was talking about Wanda. “And you didn’t hear anything else?”
He shook his head. “Just what was on the news. I kept the dogs inside for a while, but they never acted like that again. Not then or when I put them back outside. You mentioned your dog has good instincts. I think mine do too. I don’t know how they could tell, but I think they knew that Death was out hunting that night. I know it’s superstitious, but I’m glad I brought them inside. Something in me wonders if they would have been killed too if I left them out there making all that noise.”
“Superstition aside,” Faith said, “This was very helpful. Thank you, Mister…”
“Oh. Henry. Keith Henry.” He shook Faith’s hand. “Well, I’m glad I could help. The police detective didn’t seem too happy with what I had to say last time. Again, that could have just been her face. Hey, do you two want some coffee? I know it’s late, but I have decaf.”
“I appreciate that,” Faith said, “but I think we’ll get going. Turk, say goodbye to your new friends.”
Turk released a whine that sounded an awful lot like a child being told it’s time to go home. He said goodbye to the other three shepherds, and the agents walked back to the police cruiser and headed back to town.
The sun had set while they were talking to Mr. Henry, and the sky was darkening rapidly. They didn’t have any leads worth following that night, so they decided to find a hotel and get a good night’s rest, then start fresh in the morning.
Faith wondered what could have prompted that reaction from Mr. Henry’s dogs. Clearly they had noticed something, but the odd, distracted behavior was intriguing. What could have caused them to act like that? In one of Faith’s earlier cases, Turk’s sense of smell had been compromised by strong chemicals, and he had behaved similarly, but Turk hadn’t noticed anything like that at Rebecca’s crime scene.
She brought it up to Michael while they ate dinner—delivery pizza and pasta. In between slices, he said, “Wanda mentioned that the guy who reported Rebecca’s murder heard dogs barking too.”
“Yeah,” Faith said, “he did, now that you mention it. What could have caused that reaction?”
“No idea,” Michael said, “but at least we know we’re looking in the right direction.”
“I’ll take that,” she said. “It’s more than we usually have at this stage of a case.”
“See?” Michael said with a grin. “Things are already looking up.”
Faith wished she could share Michael's optimism, but knowing that the dogs had reacted to their killer didn't tell her anything unless she could figure out exactly what they were reacting to.
Still, Michael was right. They had a lead to follow. That was good for their first day. Tomorrow, they would try to find out what the dogs were reacting to. From there, it was only a matter of time before they found their killer.
Chapter Five
“I have to hand it to Seattle,” Michael said. “They really do have the best coffee.”
“I thought you liked San Francisco’s coffee,” Faith replied.
“They’re good too. To be fair, anything’s better than Philadelphia’s coffee.”
“I thought you liked Morning Glory too.”
“It’s all right. But let’s be honest. Morning Glory’s the best shop in Philly, and this little hole-in-the-wall diner is at least as good. If we were in Seattle proper at a boutique shop, it would be like drinking manna from the heavens.”
Faith lifted an eyebrow. “Drinking manna?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m not sure you know what you mean.”
Teasing aside, the coffee was pretty good. Faith wasn’t really a connoisseur the same way Michael was, but she appreciated the strength and richness of the brew. They both agreed that the coffee at the Field Office in Philadelphia was far too weak and the coffee available to them in many of the cities and locales they visited was even worse. It felt a little macabre to be grateful for a murder in the Seattle area because of the good coffee, but if they were going to be here anyway, they might as well be grateful for it.
“I got the address for Rebecca’s old workplace at Bethel Records. Their sound studio is actually in Seattle. Parking’s going to be a bitch, but I’m fine with taking advantage of the cruiser and parking in a red zone if you are.”
“Don’t be a pessimist,” Faith chided. “It’s Sunday morning. No one’s going to be parked in the business lot. Which reminds me, are they even open?”
“They are, and Rebecca’s old boss is in today. He’s agreed to talk to us in an hour. That gives us enough time to finish our coffee and banana bread and make it to the city.”
