“Where is his dog?” she asked. “He had a dog with him, and he never went anywhere without Shadow. That dog was his security and backup. They didn’t hurt the dog, did they?”
Um….
They didn’t find a dog.
“We don’t know. Can we look in his tent, possibly? Maybe we can figure out what happened to him.”
The one man shook his head.
“NO! You’re not going through his things!”
When he moved menacingly toward them, Corbin held out his hand.
“Okay, we won’t.”
That seemed to calm the man down.
“We’re so sorry for your loss,” Alex admitted. “Did he say anyone was following or bothering him?” he asked, trying to get any information that he could.
She nodded, and then lowered her voice like the CIA was listening in.
At this point, who knew?
“He said weird shit was going on there. He had been there one night when we got that really bad rainstorm. His tent leaked, so he would find shelter for him and Shadow so they stayed warm. We all do. He said someone was upstairs, and he heard him talking to someone.”
Oh, this was good.
Real good.
Immediately, Corbin began writing it all down.
“What was he saying?”
She tried to recall.
“Something about how they were all his now. That he could keep them forever.”
Yowza.
That’s something a collector would say.
There was a good chance the man was killed because the killer didn’t want anyone to know he had overheard things.
Maybe the missing kidney was a red herring.
But why leave the body there so it might draw attention to his stash?
They needed to tell Elizabeth this.
All.
Of.
It.
“He said he got out of there, spent a cold, wet night in an alley with Shadow. That’s all he said,” she offered.
Corbin glanced over.
