Simon sat beside her, used the rope to pull the dog in, gave it slack, tugged side to side. “Maybe I’m just not cut out for a dog.”
Willing to give some sympathy now, she patted Simon’s knee. “This from a man who takes showers with his puppy?”
“It was necessary.”
“It was clever, efficient and inventive.” And they both smelled of soap and... sawdust, she realized. Very nice. “He’ll learn. You’ll both learn. How about the housebreaking?”
“Actually, that’s working.”
“Well, there you go. You’ve both learned how to handle that, and he sits on command.”
“And wanders into the forest to roll in dead bird, eats my universal remote.”
“Simon, you’re such a Pollyanna.”
He sent her a narrow stare and only made her laugh. “You’re making progress. Work on training him to come, every time you call. Every time. It’s essential. We’ll work on some leash training, then give him a refresher on coming.”
As she rose, she saw the cruiser heading down her lane. “It’s a good time to teach him not to run toward a car—and not to jump on a visitor. Keep him controlled, talk to him.”
She waved and waited for Davey to pull up and get out of the car. “Hi, Davey.”
“Fee. Hi, guys, how’s it going?” He bent to rub black, yellow and brown fur. “Sorry, Fee, I didn’t know you had a lesson going.”
“No problem. This is Simon Doyle and Jaws. Deputy Englewood.”
“Right, you bought the Daubs’ place a few months back. Nice to meet you.” Davey nodded at Simon, then crouched to greet the puppy. “Hey, little fella. I don’t want to interrupt,” he said as he scratched and rubbed the exuberant Jaws. “I can wait until you’re done.”
“It’s okay. Simon, why don’t you get the leash, do a little solo work on heeling? I’ll be right there. Is there a problem, Davey?” she murmured when Simon walked to his truck.
“Why don’t we take a little walk ourselves?”
“Okay, now you’re scaring me. Did something happen? Syl?”
“Syl’s fine, far as I know.” But Davey put a hand on her shoulder, steered her into a walk toward the side of the house. “We got some news today, and the sheriff thought, since we go back, I should come talk to you about it.”
“About what?”
“A woman went missing mid-January back in California. Sacramento area. Went out for a jog one morning and didn’t come back. They found her about a week later in Eldorado National Forest, shallow grave. An anonymous tip gave them the basic direction.”
She swallowed the flutter in her throat and said nothing.
“Ten days ago, another woman went out for a morning run in Eureka, California.”
“Where did they find her?”
“Trinity National Forest. The first woman, she was nineteen. The second was twenty. College students. Outgoing, athletic, single. Both had part-time jobs. The first worked as a bartender, the second in a bookstore. They both were taken down with a stun gun, then bound with nylon rope, gagged with duct tape. Both were strangled with a red scarf left on the body.”
She couldn’t feel the flutters now, not when her body had gone numb. “And tied in a bow.”
“Yeah, and tied in a bow.”
Fiona pressed a hand to her heart, felt it pounding. “Perry’s in prison. He’s still in prison.”
“He’s never getting out, Fee. He’s locked up, locked down.”
“It’s a copycat.”
“It’s more than that.” He reached out, gave her shoulders a rub. “It’s more than that, Fee. There are details the Perry investigation didn’t release, like how Perry took a lock of hair from his victims and wrote a number on the back of their right hand.”
Already the numbness was wearing off. She wanted it back, wanted it to block this sickness roiling in her belly. “He told someone, or one of the investigators did—someone in the crime lab or the medical examiner’s office.”
Davey kept his eyes on hers, his hands on her shoulders. “Has to be. They’re going to track that down.”
“Don’t treat me like an idiot, Davey. Any of dozens of people could’ve passed that information on. It’s been nearly eight years since...”
“I know. I’m sorry, Fee. I want you to know the cops are all over this. We wanted you to be informed, and it’s likely the media’s going to make the connection pretty quick. They might poke at you about it.”
“I can handle the press. Greg’s family?”
“They’re being notified, too. I know this is hard for you, Fee, but I don’t want you to worry. They’ll get him. And as bad as it is, this asshole’s sticking to Perry’s pattern. Young college girls. You’re not twenty anymore.”
“No.” She bore down to keep her voice steady. “But I’m the only one who got away.”
Simon didn’t have to hear the conversation to know something was wrong. Bad news or trouble, maybe both. He couldn’t see why Fiona would want anyone around—especially when the anyone was the next thing to a stranger.
He considered loading the dog back in the truck and taking off. It would be rude, but he didn’t particularly mind rude.
But it also seemed downright cold, and that he did mind.
He’d just wait until the deputy left, let the woman make whatever excuses suited her, then escape. Nobody lost face.
Plus, miracle of miracles, he was actually getting Jaws to heel about thirty percent of the time. Even the pup’s cooperation stemming from having the other dogs stroll along, stop on command, didn’t negate success.
So he could go home flush from that, get a little more work done, then have a beer.
Take the dead bird out of the equation and it added up to a pretty good day.
When the cruiser headed out, he expected Fiona to wander over, make those excuses, then go handle whatever needed handling.
Instead, she stood where she was for several minutes, just staring out at the road. Then she walked back to the porch steps, sat. And sat.
So he’d make the excuses, Simon decided. Easy enough. Just remembered something I have to do. Dog’s coming along, blah, blah, see you.
He crossed toward her, pleased it only took a couple of tugs to have the pup fall in line. And as he approached, he saw she was dead white, and the hands clutched on her knees trembled lightly.
Crap.
With walking casually away no longer an option, he scooped up the puppy before Jaws could try to leap into her lap.
“Bad news,” he said.
“What?”
“The deputy brought bad news. Is Sylvia all right?”
“Yes. It’s not about Sylvia.”
Her dogs, sensing her mood, clustered around her. The big yellow Lab rested his head on her knee.
“Ah... we should...”
He watched her struggle to pull herself out of whatever hole she’d fallen into.
“We should work on sit and stay.”
“Not today.”
She looked up at him then, but he couldn’t translate what clouded her eyes. Grief ? Fear? Shock?
“No,” she agreed, “not today. Sorry.”
“No problem. I’ll see you next time.”
“Simon.” She drew a breath as he hesitated. “Would you mind... Could you stay for a while?”
He wanted to say no—wished he had it in him to say no. Maybe he’d have found it in him if it hadn’t been so obvious it was as hard for her to ask as for him to agree.
“All right.”
“Why don’t you let him run awhile. The big guys’ll watch him. Play,” she said as Simon unclipped the leash. “Stay close. Close,” she repeated, stroking fur. “Watch Jaws, go play.”
They whined a little, and each glanced back at her as they started into the yard.
“They know I’m upset. They’d rather stay until I’m not. You’d rather go.”
He sat beside her. “Yeah. I’m not much good at this kind of thing.”