She dropped her nose down and then raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
“You don’t bleach carpet,” Cloister told Javi.“No soup.”
Javi looked at the dusty blue gingham runner that lay crookedly on the steps.“Fair point.”
Cloister loped up the stairs after Bourneville.Her tail had gone from a discouraged pin between her legs to an eager flag.It swished as she cut back and forth across the landing with purpose, sniffing along the threshold of each door intently before moving on.
She finally stopped and scraped, just once, at a white brass-handled door.Alert delivered, she crouched down, ears forward and chin on paws, as she waited for Cloister to do his part.He stepped over her, grabbed the handle, and pushed the door open.
It was the main bathroom.Like the rest of the house, it had been stripped of home comforts, but personality had lingered.The floor was covered with large off-white tiles patterned with stylized blue flowers, the colors close to those in the navy vanity that housed a dye-stained white sink.The large square mirror behind it had been covered with layers of duct tape, as had the shower screen.
Once the door was open, Bon shot in.Her nails scraped on the tiles as she scrambled over to the walk-in shower.Maybe it had been thinking of his mom earlier that made Cloister want to tell her to mind not to scratch the tray.A quick sniff around the drain, and she raked it twice with her paw before she barked.
“She didn’t alert for a body,” Javi said.It wasn’t a question, more like he needed to hear it aloud to confirm it to himself.
“No, it’s something else,” Cloister said.In the shower stall, Bon was still fixated on the drain, her whole body tense as if she was considering going down it after the scent.“Aus.”
The minute the command was given, Bon released, her ears relaxed and tail dropped to a pleased-with-herself neutral half-mast.
“Hier,” Cloister said, calling her out of the shower.She got a quick fuss as she came back to heel; then he left her there as he took her place in the stall.He knelt down on the plastic, raised dimples digging into his knees, and twisted the drain cover loose.Long strings of old hair, slimed with soap residue, came with it.The smell of sour water and a fruity, rotten stink wafted out of the hole.
“He should have saved some of that bleach from downstairs,” Cloister said with a grimace as he reached in to dislodge the trap.It stuck for a moment and then popped free, black goop slopping over Cloister’s wrist and staining his cuff.“This is disgusting.”
He chucked the trap to the side and wiped his hands on his thighs.
“Maybe that’s the point,” Javi said.He thumbed the flashlight on his phone to “on” and leaned in to hold it over the hole.Cloister was no plumber, but the narrow beam of light fell into a space bigger than the u-bend he’d expected.Something dull and metallic caught it and glinted back.Javi leaned in, hand on Cloister’s shoulder to steady himself, for a better look.“Maybe he didn’t want anyone looking too close.”
Bongrippedtheknottedend of the T-shirt in her mouth and braced her paws on the crusty carpet as she pulled.Her ears were flat, but her tail was wagging in loose, excited sweeps.Cloister yanked back on the toy as his radio crackled to life with Mel’s acknowledgement.He dipped his chin to his shoulder as he responded in a clipped voice that conveyed the urgency of the situation.
“This is K-9-23 at Cuyamaca Road.The reinstated wellness check has turned up a hidden storage area with multiple electronics, hard drives, and paperwork related to Miles Lassiter’s kidnapping.Requesting a full scene and Crime Lab.”
Mel was one of the few employees who’d been grandfathered over after the purge of Plenty PD.She’d been on the job since she was nineteen, so it took a lot to break her composure.This didn’t, but it did make her give a short, dry whistle.
“That’s gonna come back to bite someone,” she muttered, and then flicked back to routine.“Copy that, K-9-23.Techs and forensics will be on their way to you ASAP.Stay on location.”
Cloister acknowledged that with a grunt that was half annoyance at being told the obvious and half Bourneville nearly dislocating his arm as she thrashed her head around.He let her have the toy.As she retreated down to the hall to flop down for a good chew, he tapped back into the call to add, “And it’s CuyamacaRoad.Not Way.Cuyamaca Road.”
Mel scoffed at him.“Do not worry about that,” she said.“It’s just as clear as it was the first time.”
She cleared the call.
Cloister pushed himself to his feet and went back to lean on the bathroom doorframe.The shower tray had been pried up to reveal the space under, the plumbing pulled out to leave a void Fowler could hide his stash in.Javi knelt on the tiles next to the hole, his hands covered with sleek black gloves as he carefully looked through the evidence.
“The dog couldn’t wait?”Javi asked without looking up.He slid a finger under a heavy black hard drive and lifted it slightly to look underneath.“We’re in the middle of a scene.”
Cloister shrugged.“Your pay goes through, whatever you’re doing,” he pointed out.“Anything coherent?”
That made Javi snort.He sat back on his heels and scratched the side of his jaw with the back of his hand.
“Everything’s coherent,” he said.“That doesn’t stop it being crazy.Look at this.”
He picked up a sheet of glossy paper by the corners and held it up.It was a tourist map of Plenty, the cartoon renderings of seals and local “attractions”—mostly the boardwalk and one dubiously historic church on the outskirts—scrawled over with red Sharpie crosses, and whole sections scored out so aggressively the red had peeled up the coated ink in places.
“Strawmen,” Cloister said.“He called me that.”
“Common vernacular in the Sovereign Citizen movement,” Javi said as he put the map back down.“His sister didn’t specify that as one of his issues, so I suspect he picked it up from one of his new associates in the agricultural-rights movement.I can see there being some crossover.”
The cool, professional distance in his voice couldn’t loosen his jaw.Cloister understood the unspoken frustration.Crime had its own rules.That’swhylaw enforcement had protocols and playbooks.Crazy had rules too, but you had to work them out by trial and error.
