Chapter Four

The neighborhood that had once sheltered Maria Gonzalez was one of those idyllic suburban communities Faith associated with coming-of-age movies. The houses were all two-story colonials with two-car garages and large front yards, and the streets looked perfect for riding a bike with your dog running alongside you. It definitely didn't look like the sort of place where someone would have been stabbed to death outside of their own home.

They received a few suspicious looks from homeowners watering their lawns or staring through their kitchen windows, but no one came out to confront them when they stopped in front of 527 Marigold and began investigating. There really wasn't much to do other than look around and let Turk sniff around the yard and the porch. The homeowners here weren't home to let them in, but Faith didn't really want to go inside. What she hoped to learn was how the killer could have gotten in and out without being seen.

From the front, that would have been difficult. There was no fence, and the home was easily seen from every house along Marigold Street for two blocks. According to the file, Maria was also killed in the early hours of the morning—three a.m. this time—so Faith's guess was that everyone had been asleep, or the killer had come in from the back.

She was just about to call Turk and drive to the street behind them when Turk barked and shot off toward the house next door. Faith and Michael shared a look and followed him. They ran three steps when they heard a chorus of barking in reply. Turk returned the favor, and soon at least three different dogs were enthusiastically conversing with her K9.

"I can't tell," Michael asked. "Are those angry barks or happy barks?"

"They're curious barks," Faith replied. "They want to know who the strange dog is and what he's doing here. They're not angry, though."

They reached the house to find Turk wagging his tail on the porch. The door cracked open before Faith had a chance to knock, and a wary face poked out. "Hello?"

"Hello," Faith said. "I'm Special Agent Faith Bold of the FBI. This is my partner Special Agent Michael Prince and my K9 unit, Turk."

Turk barked a polite greeting. Faith noted that he didn't regard the man who answered the door suspiciously and didn't continue to track whatever scent had led him here.

"Umm… May I ask what this is about?" the homeowner asked.

"We're investigating the murder of Maria Gonzalez," Faith said. "She was your next-door neighbor?"

"Yes, I remember her. The police talked to me a year ago. When did you guys take over?"

"Another woman was killed early this morning," Faith said. "We believe the two murders are connected."

"Okay." He looked warily between the three of them. "Any reason why you're talking to me specifically?"

"Our K9 unit picked up a scent at the most recent crime scene. He found that same scent here and followed it to your porch."

"To my porch? I was home all night last night. I have a security camera, I can prove it."

"We don't suspect you of being involved," Michael said. "We just want to know what you saw the night of the murder."

The homeowner looked between them for a moment, trying to decide if he was going to let them in. Finally, he unlatched the door and motioned with his head for them to enter. "Come on in," he said. "I'll talk to you, but I think your dog might have just smelled my dogs."

No sooner had he said that then three German shepherds barreled around the corner and greeted Turk with all the enthusiasm that three giant puppies showed when another dog was around. Turk reacted the same, wagging his tail happily and exchanging canine pleasantries with the trio.

The homeowner relaxed when he saw that. He was a short, rotund man of around fifty with graying hair, jowls and square-rimmed reading glasses. He smiled slightly at the dogs and said, "They never stop being puppies, do they?"

"No, they don't," Faith agreed, "and you might be right. That being said, Turk's shown great intuition before. Even if you're not directly involved with the murder, there's a reason he's here. Maybe you noticed something. Maybe the killer walked across your lawn, or your dogs picked up his scent."

The homeowner's ears perked up at that. "Actually, that might be true."

Faith lifted an eyebrow. "Do tell."

"Well, the night the murder happened, the three of them began causing a racket. I had to bring them inside."

"They were barking a lot?"

At first it was just barking. I thought maybe they had seen a possum. They used to get real upset when possums would get into the yard, but eventually, I trained them not to go haywire. Can't really have dogs barking all night when you have neighbors on three sides."

"I get that," Faith said. "So did you come out to investigate or did you just bring them inside?"

"Well," he chuckled. "The first thing I did was shout at them to quit making noise. It was three in the morning. I was tired too."

"I'm guessing they didn't quit making noise," Michael said.

"No, they didn't. They started barking again. Then they started whining. But not like they wanted an extra treat. Whimpering like they were hurt. Josie, that's the lighter colored one, she stepped on a wasp once and got stung. She spent the next week limping and whimpering something awful. That was the noise they were making.

"Well, I started to freak out. Not like, freak out, I guess, but I got worried. We had a black bear wander in here about"—he cocked his head—"Oh, fifteen years ago, I guess. Got the Jacksons' Golden Retriever and mauled her nearly to death before Greg shot it through the skull. Everyone kept their dogs inside for two years after that. Kids too."

"I can imagine," Faith said. "So they started whimpering, and what did you do?"

"That's when I brought them inside. I came downstairs and opened the back door. I was scared to death, I don't mind saying. I don't own a gun. I don't believe in guns. No offense," he added quickly. "I get that law enforcement has to carry them. I just don't see a reason why normal citizens do. Anyway, I was scared, because if a bear came down, I wasn't going to be able to do anything about it." He chuckled. "Almost bought a gun the next day, I'll tell you what."

"So you opened the back door," Michael prodded.

"Right. I opened the door, and the dogs were all acting strangely. Pacing around and shaking their heads, whining, whimpering and barking. Fern and Garth were rubbing their ears on the ground. I called them a few times, but they didn't listen. Almost like they couldn't quite hear me. They'd look at me, then look away."

Faith frowned. "Interesting. Did you hear anything?"

"Not a damned thing. Just crickets. And the dogs, of course. So I got even more scared, right? I called them and called them, but they wouldn't listen. Finally, I ran out after them and grabbed them one by one and brought them inside."

"Did they calm down once they were inside?"

"Not right away. They kept whimpering for about five minutes or so, but then they calmed down. Wouldn't leave my side for the rest of the night. Not that I minded that." He chuckled. "Hell, I sat right on the couch with my arm around Fern and Garth and Josie lying across my feet. Put on Star Trek reruns—that was all that was on that early—and watched Captain Kirk fight the Klingons until the sun came up. I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life."

"When did you learn what happened to Maria?"

"I was just getting up to shower—the dogs were finally asleep—and I heard sirens. Normally, I figure it's none of my business, and I'll just let them do their thing, but considering what had happened the night before, I thought I'd go see what was going on. I came outside and saw them going into Maria's house. One of them—a real mean-looking woman—saw me staring and came to talk to me. I think she thought I might've done it at first. She might've just seemed suspicious, though. She had one of those sour faces, you know? Like they've just smelled something bad."

Faith guessed he was talking about Wanda. "And you didn't hear anything else?"

He shook his head. "Just what was on the news. I kept the dogs inside for a while, but they never acted like that again. Not then or when I put them back outside. You mentioned your dog has good instincts. I think mine do too. I don't know how they could tell, but I think they knew that Death was out hunting that night. I know it's superstitious, but I'm glad I brought them inside. Something in me wonders if they would have been killed too if I left them out there making all that noise."

"Superstition aside," Faith said, "This was very helpful. Thank you, Mister…"

"Oh. Henry. Keith Henry." He shook Faith's hand. "Well, I'm glad I could help. The police detective didn't seem too happy with what I had to say last time. Again, that could have just been her face. Hey, do you two want some coffee? I know it's late, but I have decaf."

"I appreciate that," Faith said, "but I think we'll get going. Turk, say goodbye to your new friends."

Turk released a whine that sounded an awful lot like a child being told it's time to go home. He said goodbye to the other three shepherds, and the agents walked back to the police cruiser and headed back to town.

The sun had set while they were talking to Mr. Henry, and the sky was darkening rapidly. They didn't have any leads worth following that night, so they decided to find a hotel and get a good night's rest, then start fresh in the morning.

Faith wondered what could have prompted that reaction from Mr. Henry's dogs. Clearly they had noticed something, but the odd, distracted behavior was intriguing. What could have caused them to act like that? In one of Faith's earlier cases, Turk's sense of smell had been compromised by strong chemicals, and he had behaved similarly, but Turk hadn't noticed anything like that at Rebecca's crime scene.

She brought it up to Michael while they ate dinner—delivery pizza and pasta. In between slices, he said, "Wanda mentioned that the guy who reported Rebecca's murder heard dogs barking too."

"Yeah," Faith said, "he did, now that you mention it. What could have caused that reaction?"

"No idea," Michael said, "but at least we know we're looking in the right direction."

"I'll take that," she said. "It's more than we usually have at this stage of a case."

"See?" Michael said with a grin. "Things are already looking up."

Faith wished she could share Michael's optimism, but knowing that the dogs had reacted to their killer didn't tell her anything unless she could figure out exactly what they were reacting to.

Still, Michael was right. They had a lead to follow. That was good for their first day. Tomorrow, they would try to find out what the dogs were reacting to. From there, it was only a matter of time before they found their killer.