Cal blew a raspberry. “Go ahead. Our search hasn’t turned up anything new, so he can go off duty.”
“Duty?” She pulled a face as she squatted again and gave Pilot the sort of hearty scratches and face-to-face interaction he loved. “That sounds so serious. What kind of working dog is he?”
“Pilot’s a retired search-and-rescue and cadaver dog.”
Jules’s head snapped back, her wide-eyed gaze flying to his. “Cadaver?”
“He helps find dead bodies.” Her expression said she might be regretting her choice to allow Pilot to lick her face, as if he’d just been eating a corpse instead of sniffing out the scents of one.
She blinked. Sobered. Then sent him another baleful look. “I know what cadaver dogs do, thank you. If he’s retired, why is he working tonight?”
“I still put him to work now and then, like tonight, when I think he can help with an investigation in an unofficial way. His joints aren’t what they used to be, but he gets bored, so…”
She continued ruffling Pilot’s neck and baby talking to his dog in dulcet tones. “You’re a good boy. Yes, you are. Does that feel good? So handsome.”
When Pilot licked her face and made happy snuffling noises, Jules smiled and chuckled softly, rewarding Pilot with nose kisses and more ear rubs. Pilot loved the attention from his new friend.
Cal, on the other hand, felt an unwelcome prick of…what? Jealousy? Surely not. And yet on some level, he didn’t like that his dog was getting all the affection and lighthearted attention from Jules while he got only frowns and sarcasm. At least this display of warmth toward his dog gave him more proof that a soft heart beat beneath her prickly exterior. He cut a glance toward the cathouse she’d made for the grouchy stray. Definitely a soft heart.
After a moment, Jules glanced up at him again, her expression wary. “So…why did you have Pilot out here now? You think there’s another dead body out here somewhere?”
That was exactly what he’d thought possible, but he didn’t want to alarm her. Cal shrugged. “I thought it was worth seeing what he turned up. Sometimes it’s not a body but clothing or something else with the scent of decay on it. While our local police and sheriff departments are among the best in the business, we’re small and spread kinda thin during tourist season. Just giving the task force a helping hand searching the grounds.”
“And?” she said, her voice anxious. “Did he find anything?”
“He was spot on identifying where Harper was found this morning but he found nothing else. Although he didn’t get too far out in the field.” Cal turned and scanned the surrounding area of gently sloping hills and higher elevations rising across grassy plains. “I may send him back out in a minute to finish searching the fields.”
“Harper? Does that mean you’ve identified the body?” She gave Pilot another nuzzle and scratch before rising to full height again.
“They have. He was known to authorities—his prints are in the system.”
“He’d been arrested before? For what?” As if cold, she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, despite the warm July evening.
“Nothing you need to worry about. The shop—this town—is safe, all things weighed out. Until evidence says otherwise, I see no reason to believe John Harper’s death at this location was anything other than random.”
“Somehow, I don’t fine that reassuring,” she said darkly.
He considered her point. He really couldn’t say for sure if theGeese in Flightsculpture had been selected for whatever went down last night or if it had been a random happening. “Tell you what, I can come by in the evenings at closing time to walk you to your car until the killer is caught, if you’d like.”
She gave him a dubious look and pointed to the small sedan parked behind the building. “I have all of twenty feet to walk to reach my car. It’s not like I have to venture into a vast parking garage or megalot.”
“Just offering,” he said, flipping up a hand.
“And what about the other twelve-plus hours a day I’m here at the shop, often working alone?”
“Twelve hours a day?” he repeated, aghast.
“Yeah. Don’t forget, those men came into the shop last night. I was there alone with them!”
He sobered. “I’m aware.”
The notion that she’d had a brush with these men disturbed him more than he cared to admit…as did the idea of her working long hours by herself in this remote location, where cell service was spotty.
“And what about the second man? The one in the UNLV hoodie? Do you have an ID on him yet?”
“Unfortunately, no. Forensics is still sorting through the dozens of fingerprints and hairs they collected from the sales floor. Without a facial description from you, or a camera, it will be quite a while before our limited staff sorts through everything.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Which reminds me…if you and any other shop employees could swing by the police station to be fingerprinted, it would help with eliminating your prints from customers’.”
“I’ll let Bonnie know. She’s my summer help.” She twisted her mouth as if in thought. “How long are you going to keep the shop closed?”
