Nodding in understanding, Reed led Billie on a little further. Far enough to get past the mouth of the alley, preventing Billie from having to choose between continuing ahead or returning back to the bar.
Both options that, to her, would be viable, the scent equally strong, though only one of them would be of benefit to their search.
“Let’s give her the scent here,” Reed said, pulling up deliberately shy of the spot Plunkett pointed out. “See if she picks it up short of the drop site and continues or if it disappears soon thereafter.”
“Make sure it was our guy,” Plunkett said, putting together the insinuation.
“Exactly,” Reed replied.
Bending himself forward at the waist, he reached out and unfastened the leash from his partner’s collar. Remaining fixed in the position, he extended a hand toward Rambis, the young man stepping forward and placing the evidence bag in his palm.
Bringing it over before him, Reed pinched the plastic on either side just beneath the zippered top, pulling it apart a couple of inches. Glancing inside, he spied a crumpled piece of cloth, a bandana or handkerchief of some sort, black with a white pattern printed on the fabric.
Keeping it clasped between both hands, Reed held it out toward Billie.
Something they had both done numerous times before, she elongated her neck, stretching herself out to place her nose into the opening. Eliminating all other smells, she drew in a dozen breaths or more in quick succession.
One after another after another, each driving home the scent. A way of etching it into the two-hundred-and-twenty-five million scent receptors she possessed, making sure it was indelibly locked into place before slowly drawing back.
The moment she did so, Reed returned the bag to Rambis, allowing the young man to seal it shut and stow it away.
“Alright, if this is our guy, we’ll know pretty quick,” he said. Raising himself to full height, he flicked a glance to either of them. “If she gets the scent, she’ll take off. I’ll stay on her, you both flank us, keep a watch. Good?”
“Good that,” Plunkett answered.
“Yes, sir,” Rambis added.
Waiting only long enough to get verbal confirmation, Reed called, “Search!”
Extra base added to his tone, the clear command was received on cue, Billie visibly jolting. Springing from stationary to movement, she swung her head to either side. Long sweeps with her entire body extended taut, everything from nose to tail drawn onto the same plane. Wide passes to either side that lasted no more than a few seconds, the air punctuated by the sounds of her drawing in deep breaths, before the pattern ceased.
An initial search that took just seconds before she was able to lock on, just as Reed had hoped.
“She’s got it,” he whispered, the words more of an audible thought than a statement to the men on either side. A way of readying himself, preparing for the run that was about to ensue.
One that, at the very least, would be far easier than the trek she led him on the day before, up and over the wooded hillside across from the Salem home.
Beginning just shy of a trot, Billie pushed herself straight ahead. Nose lowered toward the ground, she kept all four legs operating independently, maintaining an even pace without taking her into the full sprint she’d used earlier.
The coiled leash wrapped around his fist, Reed raised himself into a jog behind her. An easy stride enabling him to stay a uniform three feet back, alternating his gaze between her and the road ahead.
Quick glances to ensure she wasn’t unknowingly placing herself into danger, her total focus on the scent trail before her.
“We just passed where we found it,” Plunkett said, his breathing already becoming a bit labored.
“Good,” Reed muttered, barely shoving the word out as he continued on behind his partner.
Oblivious to the conversation playing out behind her, Billie plunged herself forward. With each passing step, the scent seemed to grow stronger, Reed watching as her head rose an inch higher. A sure sign that she was picking it up almost at will, the change in stance allowing her pace to increase.
A speed that brought her almost to a run, her body rising and falling as her weight shifted between her front legs and back.
Splitting the sidewalk down the middle, she stole straight ahead for more than a hundred yards. Far enough to get past the string of shops and storefronts lining the street, most residual light falling away behind them.
Shifting into darkness, they continued onward for another chunk roughly the same distance. A quarter mile in total before the trail banked hard to the left, the move just as the officers had mentioned earlier, turning away from town onto the first available outlet. A way for the man to get himself out of their direct eye line, pushing onto the closest alternate route.
A small neighborhood lined with houses of uniform size and shape. Single-story brick structures that looked to have been constructed around the same time as the majority of the town itself.
Family dwellings with cars parked in the driveways and security lamps in the yard, the only thing missing being the proverbial white picket fence.
“This is as far as our search went last time,” Rambis said, the younger man sounding to be doing much better with the exertion than his partner.
Offering nothing more than a grunt in reply, Reed kept his attention aimed down at Billie. Little more than a shadow, she resembled a solid black wolf on the prowl. A predator with the scent of prey in her nostrils, steadily working her way toward it.
A skill she was born to perform, centuries of evolution equipping her to give chase.
With each bit of asphalt that passed beneath Reed’s feet, he felt his previous frustration bleeding away. Glad to be out of the car, to not be standing in front of people and asking questions he knew they couldn’t provide satisfactory answers to, he allowed the primal joy of movement to seep in.
An inversion of the usual relationship, this time Reed feeding off his partner, allowing her energy to roil through him.
Increasing his pace to match hers, Reed followed close behind as she led them in a circuitous route through the neighborhood. A meandering path that took them around every car parked along the road, presumably as the man stopped often to check his tail.
Momentary pauses for Billie to decipher the trail before taking off again, each successive one heightening the sense of anticipation within Reed. The belief that they had the correct scent, it only a matter of time before they unraveled it enough to find who they were looking for.
More than five minutes, they spent in the small neighborhood. Long enough to work through each of the available streets before exiting on the far side of it. An egress depositing them on the only other roadway in town running perpendicular to Main, funneling them around toward the river.
One enormous loop, circling back to Smokey Jo’s from the opposite side.
A realization that landed hard in the front of Reed’s mind, his pace slowing as a single word burst forth. A command made much louder than intended, bringing the ragged quartet to an abrupt halt.
“Stop!”
The instant the word pierced the night air, Billie brought her search to an end. Taking just enough additional steps to cease her momentum, she came to a rest, her tongue sagging slightly as she turned to stare at him.
A black silhouette with ears pointing skyward, a pair of moist discs framed beneath them.
“What’s wrong?” Plunkett asked, stumbling to a stop beside them. Dropping his weight forward, he braced his hands atop his knees, his face shiny with sweat. Panting hard, he managed to add, “She lose it?”
Looping out behind him, Rambis stood with hands clasped together, his wrists resting atop his head. Chin tilted skyward, he drew in deep breaths through his nose, nostrils flaring with each one.
“No,” Reed replied. Lifting the tail of his shirt, he ran it over his brows, clearing away the sweat collected there before it could stream down into his eyes. “But once we made the
turn, it became obvious where the guy was going.”
“Where’s that?” Rambis asked.
“He made a circle,” Reed replied. “I bet anything the plan was to meet back at the car if they got separated.
“And we have their keys.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The irritation Sheriff Meigs felt was palpable over the line. Annoyance that – Reed guessed – stemmed not from the late call so much as the information that was being delivered.
Namely, the fact that every last thing that had occurred in the preceding couple of hours had happened within the boundaries of Gallipolis, giving full jurisdictional control to the local police.
Another chapter in the ongoing pissing match that Reed envisioned extending well beyond whatever remaining time he and Billie had left in town.
“Where are the men now?” Meigs asked.
Still amped on adrenaline in the wake of the evening’s events, Reed had decided to walk the trail running along the bank overlooking the Ohio River. A meandering path with cool air rising up at them from the water below, letting them go more than a mile beyond the edge of town before turning to head back.
Time for Reed to process all that took place and what it would require of him moving forward. A handful of texts and phone calls that needed to be fired off, the late hour whittling the list of possibilities for the evening down to only Meigs.
She being someone that he didn’t dare keep out of the loop, given both that it all occurred barely a mile from her office and she was the one that brought them in to begin with.
“One is sitting in a holding cell,” Reed said. “The other we stuck in an interrogation room, wanting to keep them separated as long as possible.”
Free of her leash, Billie moved unencumbered by his side. A pattern of stops and starts, his partner pausing frequently to analyze some unknown scent before jogging ahead.
A sequence performed dozens of times in order, Billie seeming just as thankful as himself for the chance to decompress.
“They said anything?” Meigs asked.
“Not a word,” Reed answered. “Chief Scott and I both came at them. Asked who they were, what they were in town for, even what they meant when they shouted they needed to find out what happened.
“Nothing.”
Muttering something too faint to make out, Meigs fell silent on the other end. A quiet that lasted several moments, Reed giving her all the time she needed as his gaze moved out to the river beside them. A glassy surface broken only by the wake of a single barge moving through, the resulting ripples creating waves through the reflected lights of town.
A mosaic of orange and yellow threaded through the darkened forests of Ohio and West Virginia.
“What’s Scott plan to do?” Meigs eventually asked.
Pulling his gaze away from the river, Reed looked to the police station fast approaching on the far side of Main Street. Still lit up from within, he made no effort to go any closer, having spent enough time there for one night.
“He’s holding them as people of interest for the time being,” Reed answered. “First thing in the morning, Billie and I are headed back up to Ross County, told him we would be in touch thereafter.”
A plan the two men had come to after several hours of hammering away at the detainees, it beyond clear that neither would be saying a word until at least morning.
And even then, only if given good reason to.
Something Reed hoped his second visit to the prison in as many days would provide.
“That’s good for at least forty-eight,” Meigs whispered.
“Probably even ninety-six,” Reed added, “after what happened to Cara.”
Continuing on past the police station, Reed allowed Billie to follow the path until they were nearly even with The Gallipolis Inn before slapping at the leg of his jeans. Turning away from the paved lane hugging tight to the elevated ridge above the riverbank, he padded silently across the grass of the park, headed toward Main Street and their lodging on the opposite curb.
“Anyway,” he said, “I know it’s late, I just wanted to call and let you know what happened.”
“Appreciate it,” Meigs replied. “Keep me updated on what goes down tomorrow?”
“Will do,” Reed replied, neither saying another word as they signed off the line.
Not bothering to tuck away his phone, Reed kept it in hand. Glancing in either direction, he ensured that Main Street was completely desolate for the night, he and Billie the only two living creatures in sight, before crossing onto the pavement.
With each step, he could feel the last of the chemical cocktail he’d been riding for hours fleeing his system. Walking in the cool night air had managed to pull away any remaining sweat from his skin and clothes. Time spent thinking and then in discussion with Meigs had allowed his mind to slow, a rough framework for the day ahead having formed in his mind.
Eyelids beginning to get heavy, he crossed back up onto the sidewalk, retracing the steps he’d first taken nearly five hours earlier. A time before Scott called and sent them tearing off into the night, covering just about every other part of town before returning.
A stretch that felt so much longer as he reached the front door and pulled it open, allowing Billie to pass through before stepping in after her. Intent to spend his last few waking moments standing under a blast of warm water before falling into bed, he made it no further than a couple of steps before coming to a stop.
A halt brought on by Harrison Salem sitting on one end of the green velvet sofa, his stare resting on the front door as if he had been waiting for them.
“Detective,” he said, his quiet voice easily heard in the silent lobby.
“Mr. Salem,” Reed replied.
Despite it being after two o’clock in the morning, the man appeared to be wide awake. Still dressed in the same clothes as when they met earlier in the day, his hair had a few more creases through it and his nostrils were a bit redder.
Otherwise, he looked just as he did a half day before.
Seated on the far end of the sofa, his elbow rested on the arm of it, one ankle propped on the opposite knee. A look that again hinted he’d been waiting for Reed and Billie to appear, likely for quite some time.
“When word broke about what happened at Jo’s,” Harrison said, “I wandered down out of my room to have a look.”
Somewhere in the back of Reed’s mind, he remembered the front desk clerk mentioning that there was only one other guest that was staying at the place. Somebody that had recently lost their wife, it not taking a great deal of deduction to figure out who that might be.
Just as Harrison had probably done the same in assuming if Reed and Billie were staying over, this was the only place in town renting rooms.
Not replying directly to the question, or to ask how exactly word had gotten out so quickly, Reed instead pointed a finger to the armchair across from the sofa. “Mind if we join you for a minute?”
“Please.”
Every part of Reed wanting nothing more than to head up the stairs to his room and start making preparations for bed, he instead shifted a few steps to the side. Dropping himself down into the plush chair, he waited as Billie lowered herself beside him, his hand finding the thick fur atop her head.
“Was anybody hurt?” Harrison asked.
Based on the scene Reed had walked in to find, he had no doubt that things would have gotten ugly had the police not been there.
To his knowledge though, the clubs the men had been carrying were used only on the aging jukebox inside the bar.
“No.”
Making a soft clicking noise deep in his throat, Harrison nodded. Glancing toward the fireplace, he left his gaze there, his mind clearly working through some sort of internal debate.
“Were they sent by my brother-in-law, or because of my brother-in-law?”
Just as he suspected every single person in town did, Reed had his theories. Ideas about who the men were and what their intent was
. What was meant by the warning flung out at the patrons of Smokey Jo’s earlier.
Things that he intended to spend the coming days delving into, in no way feeling confident enough about any of them to commit just yet.
Especially to someone who just lost his wife, the poor man personally involved and carrying an extreme amount of prejudice and preconceived notions.
“We don’t know yet,” Reed said, opting for the most simple version of the truth. “Still trying to run down who they are before we make any kind of determination.”
Flicking his gaze over from the fireplace, Harrison said, “But you have your suspicions?”
Again, a host of things sprang to Reed’s mind, none more prominent than the images of the two men sitting in the holding cell and interrogation room a few doors down. Guys that were clearly from someplace far from Gallipolis, sent with a very specific purpose in mind.
A purpose that Reed did have his suspicions about, even if there was no chance he was going to share them with Harrison.
Seeming to sense as much, Harrison didn’t bother waiting for an answer to his previous question. Posing another instead, he asked, “May I ask you something, detective?”
Lifting the hand from Billie’s head, Reed motioned into the space between them. A sign for the man to proceed before returning his palm to his partner’s thick fur.
“Like I said earlier, I’ve heard of the two of you,” Harrison said. “And, I’ll admit, last night when I couldn’t find sleep, I did a little looking around online, found a fair bit more as well.”
Hearing nothing in there resembling a question, Reed merely sat and waited, remaining silent.
“I know you know what you’re doing,” Harrison said. “Your record speaks for itself. Which is why I’m wondering why you seem so resistant to the notion of my brother-in-law being at the root of this?”
Of the many directions that the man’s question could have gone, never did Reed consider it being there. An inquiry not into how the case was going or what happened this evening or even his working theory about who targeted his wife, but a question about the mindset.
The Promisor: A Suspense Thriller Page 17