Page 22 of Evil Bones
“Both forelimbs and the left hindlimb terminate in claw-tipped paws.
“The right hindlimb is missing distal to the mid-femur.
“The claws are densely black and appear to have been mechanically ground down.
“The tail is short—”
“It’s a spaniel,” Balodis said. “Probably a Boykin.”
“You’re sure?”
“On the spaniel part, yes. As to the Boykin, this dog’s body is longer and rangier than that of a Cocker, and more compact than that of a Springer. I’d estimate the animal weighed around forty pounds and stood about sixteen inches at the shoulder.”
“Measurements consistent with yesterday’s Frog Pond skull?”
“Absolutely. As are the color and length of the coat.”
Before I could respond, Balodis stepped forward and lifted the left hind limb for my inspection
“Look at the paws. See that slight webbing between the toes?”
“I do.”
“Boykins were bred to work in lakes and swamps. That webbing allows them to swim well.”
“Bred by whom?”
“Waterfowl and wild turkey hunters down in South Carolina. For years nobody outside the state knew about Boykins. Now the world loves the breed because they make great pets.”
“You think this dog had an owner.”
“Its nails have been trimmed.”
“Meaning someone had him groomed.”
Balodis crossed to the counter, on which a tech had placed a scanner. The thing was about three inches wide and six inches long, white, with a round antenna at one end, a screen and orange buttons below on the handle.
When powered up, the screen offered four options:Scan; View History; Clear Records; Upload. Choosing the first, Balodis ran the gadget in a slow, S-shaped pattern over the dog’s upper body, just tailward of the putrid tissue edging the truncated neck.
I know how scanners work; still Balodis felt compelled to explain. Sensing the man was firing on nervous energy, I let him talk.
“A microchip is a small glass tube roughly the size of a rice grain that functions as a tiny transponder. When its radio waves are picked up by a scanner, the chip is activated and transmits an identification number, which is displayed on the scanner’s screen. We’ll know we’ve hit pay dirt if we hear a beep.”
Nothing.
Balodis moved down each of the dog’s front legs.
“That would be an odd place for insertion,” I said.
“Indeed, it would. Microchips are implanted directly under the skin, usually between the shoulder blades. But the little buggers often migrate.”
The words had barely left his lips when the scanner gave off a high little chirp. Balodis raised the device to his eyes.
“Bingo.”
“This is a first,” I said.
“So youarefamiliar with the technology?”
