“If you read the report that Corbin filed, or listened to Alex at dinner, you’d know that the dead man’s dog was MIA. I’m betting we found him.”
As Callen held his gun, his wife stared at him.
“What the hell are you going to do with that, Callen James?” she asked.
He stared at her like she was crazy.
He wasn’t getting bit, that was for damn sure.
Elizabeth laid down the law.
“Uh, Alex told us the homeless people said the dead veteran’s dog was protective and a shadow. I’m not getting rabies. That was his pet.”
It was official.
His wife was insane.
As she turned, Elizabeth focused on the growling, and she didn’t look away.
“Okay, try not to get rabies,” he suggested, knowing exactly what she was going to do. “I don’t want rabies.”
She was to the point.
“It’s a shot you’ll have to get if he bites. You’ll live. You’re not shooting a dog who is upset his person died. That’s crazy.”
Gene just laughed.
“I have fifty on her talking the dog down. I’m calling it now, and I can’t wait to see it happen.”
She pointed at him.
“You’re my favorite.”
Callen sighed.
“Okay, Captain Crazy, go dog whisper the rabid dog. I’ll hold your hand at the ER, but you’re calling Chris to tell him that you’ve been bitten by a dog. I’m not telling him shit. He’s already pissed at me for letting you get knocked around by big, loco, and flower crazy.”
She snorted.
As they moved closer to the room where Jonathan Miller had been shanked and died, she saw it.
There was a dog sitting by the dried blood.
It was a big dog, and it was a mix of German Shepherd and something else. Mastiff? Saint Bernard? Something. All she knew was it was scared.
Its eyes were wide, and its ears were back.
The second they appeared, it began barking.
When Ivan came in, hearing the commotion, he also pulled his gun.
“Oh, shit. Is that a wolf?” he asked. “It’sHUGE.”
She pointed.
“Put the gun away. Back up. I’m going to talk to it.”
Ivan sputtered like a teakettle.
