Page 106 of Cold, Cold Bones

Most police dogs are German shepherds or Belgian Malinois. Vera looked like a Rottweiler-spaniel mix. A big excited one.

Mortella walked Vera to Henry and me and spoke a command I didn’t understand. Apparently, Vera did. The dog sat.

“This is Vera.”

I glanced at Mortella. He gave a short nod.

Dropping to one knee, I offered the back of my hand for Vera’s inspection. “Hey, girl.”

The dog’s eyes were chocolate orbs. After sniffing my scent, she lifted them to me, while simultaneously rotating the whiskers above. A quick glance at Henry, then a long, thin tongue dropped and hung quivering from one side of her mouth.

I rose and stepped back. “She scents human?”

“Something’s out there, she’s likely to catch it.” Not exactly what I asked. “Conditions are good, there’s enough breeze, concrete’s still moist. And she likes the cold.”

“What’s her signal?”

“She goes batshit. Like I said, she’s not fully trained.”

Less than encouraging.

I glanced at the dog. She glanced at me, head tilting from side to side, crease between her eyes furrowing and unfurrowing.

“What’s your plan?”

“I’ll swing her around, bring her in downwind. She signals she’s got something, I’ll turn her loose.”

“Will our presence bother her?” Henry asked.

“She knows you now. Your smell won’t do nothing for her.”

“Then let’s roll.”

“Vera,” Mortella said.

Recognizing her name, the dog sprang up, spun a full circle, then froze, studying her handler’s face intently.

Mortella wrapped the end of Vera’s lead around his right hand, and we set off. Straining at her leash, the dog sniffed her way across the lot, exploring cracks and lampposts and items of interest only she could see. Smell.

We’d gone about a hundred yards when Vera tensed and began pulling even harder. She raised her snout high and jerked her head from side to side, nostrils twitching feverishly, testing the air in all directions.

Suddenly, the dog froze, ears forward and raised, tips trembling. A growl started deep inside her, low, then building, half howl, half whine. As it strengthened, I felt my own body go taut. A chill traveled my spine.

Mortella reached down and unclipped his dog’s lead. Vera held, as though confirming her read, perhaps calibrating her position in relation to its source. Then she lowered her snout and inhaled several times. Exhaling sharply, she moved forward, to her left, forward again, her whole being focused on the ground in front of her.

Suddenly she stopped. The fur rose along her spine. Her flank muscles twitched.

Blowing out one last puff, she flew into a frenzy, lunging forward and jerking back in a circle, snarling and snapping at the concrete around her.

24

MONDAY, FEBRUARY14

We searched that portion of the lot for one hundred and twenty-seven minutes, shoulder to shoulder walking a grid. Shoulder to knee in Vera’s case.

We found not a single candy wrapper, hair elastic, glove, or key. Definitely no body. Vera calmed some, but not much. The dog was convinced a person had lain out there on that concrete.

Eventually, we shifted to the bordering woods. Gave that a go for another hour.