Page 37 of Junkyard Dog

Alex dropped hissnout to the sand and froze.

Pirithous.

“Fifteen more feet,” Charlotte cooed, her fingers massaging his shoulders as she attempted to encourage him forward. She took another step, cursing in surprise when he snatched his leash from her hand and bounded ahead of her to block the way, his head lowered and ears flattened back.

She eyed him warily. “Move, boy. I’m just going to peek over the ridge and we can go.”

He growled low, his nose picking up the scent of his target among the large rocks to his right.

“Butch,” she said, her voice stern. “Move.”

When she took another step toward him, he bared his teeth and crouched, his hackles rising. The scent was dissipating on the faint breeze, intertwining with the odor of death.

“What’s your problem, boy?” she grumbled, continuing her climb with deliberate movements intended to avoid spooking the dog in her way. “Come show me.”

He backed up the over the rocks, his options limited.

Biting Charlotte would be bad.

Herding her could be worse, her footing on the stones already tenuous.

Transforming would result in questions he didn’t want to answer. Probably more screaming than he liked, too.

With his head swinging from side to side and ears tuned in to every rustle in the area, he monitored her as she progressed to the apex of the pass and looked around, her attention zooming in on a crevice.

“See boy?” she whispered, beginning a descent down the other side and reaching into her back pocket. “Nothing to growl about.” She lifted small binoculars up as he nipped her shirt, tugging her back lightly. “I… Oh.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my god.”

Kill number three.

He spread his paws across the stone as her balance wavered and she gripped his neck. He scanned the area for signs of movement, any indication the Pirithous line was still on-site. Satisfied that the scene was abandoned, he nudged her back to the peak, staying tight to her as she skidded down the rocks and took off toward her truck.

*

Max crouched besideCharlotte, refilling her mug with another cup of burnt coffee. “It’s midnight,” he barked to the FBI agent sitting across from them. “I’m taking her home and you can continue this after she’s had some rest.”

She looked to Kevin, who’d been interrogating her relentlessly for four hours. “I don’t know what else I can tell you.”

All business, the FBI agent nodded stiffly. “Fine. Be back on-site for noon and we can review anything else we’ve found at the scene.”

Max extended his hand and helped her to her feet, setting the bitter coffee to the side. “You’re riding with me tonight. You can get your car when we come back in the morning, okay?”

She nodded as they made their way outside. “Wait! Butch is out there. What if they mistake him for something and shoot him?”

Max doubled back into the station and spoke quietly with Kevin for a moment before returning to her. “They’ll be on the lookout. Let’s go.”

The drive to town was silent, Max periodically checking his phone once they hit the highway and Charlotte staring out the window.

A foot. A foot with a sneaker on it.

The FBI had located the other one shoved deep inside another crevice, following the trail of dismembered limbs, one arm still affixed to a backpack.

She shuddered as Max looked down at his phone.

“Everyone’s at the tavern,” he said quietly. “Why don’t we stop by there for a few minutes? Get a shot or two to calm your nerves?”

She stared out the window. “I’m not sure I want to see Alex tonight.”

Max sighed and slowed as he turned off the highway. “Everyone’s worried about you. If Alex is working, I’ll talk to him, okay?” When she refused to reply, he pressed on. “Unless something bad went down between you two.”

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