“She’s the dog we found at the Cross scene and brought back…that is, Dr. McGowan brought back, rather than have it taken to a shelter,” Connor explained. “The dog smelled that kid the second I opened the door. She knew his scent. She’s normally a really sweet dog, Chief, but she took off like a bat out of hell. She did get a nip in, but I’m guessing it’s no big deal if he hasn’t complained about it.”

“He hasn’t even mentioned it.”

“There’s no telling what she would have done to him if he hadn’t gotten himself up that tree when he did.”

“So you’re thinking this kid was at the scene of the Cross murder?” Thorpe rubbed his chin. “You’re thinking the dog bit him on the arm at Cross’s?”

Connor nodded. “Let’s start with the fingerprints, see if they match. I’d love to see if his blood matches the blood on Cross’s door, but there’s no way he’s going to give us a sample.”

“We can get his DNA off that cup he just drank from and test it against the DNA from the blood smear,” the chief suggested.

“DNA takes too long. I can send it to the Bureau labs and beg a tech I know to rush it through, but we’re still talking days. I’m not saying don’t do it, I’m just saying that isn’t going to give us what we need now.” Connor stood and stared through the window at the boy. He turned back to the chief and said, “If we can put him at the murder scene, maybe we can get him to talk. Get him to tell us who he’s working with.”

“Whose number is programmed into that cell phone.”

“Right.”

“Too bad the dog can’t talk,” Thorpe said. “Tell us just what happened that night.”

Connor turned and stared at Thorpe as if he’d said something brilliant. “I’m not so sure she can’t…”

19

“W here did they take him?” She stood in the dim light, anger radiating off her like heat.

“I’m assuming to the police station in Howeville,” replied the man who sat on the chair near the fireplace. He was taller than her by almost a foot, and outweighed her by seventy pounds. He was terrified of her.

“If he talks…”

The man shook his head. “He will not talk. We have discussed this possibility many times. I’d bet my life on it.”

“You already have.” She turned away and paced in a circle.

“I’ve done everything you’ve asked of me. I’ve retrieved every one of the sacred artifacts you sent me after.”

“All but one,” she reminded him. “There’s still that woman in Massachusetts. You let her get away.”

“The FBI got there before we did.”

“You should have moved faster. You gave them too much time.”

Or you could have figured out sooner that you could locate some of the collectors by using the Internet, instead of stealing Daria McGowan’s list. But of course, he dared not say that. The priestess was neither a tolerant nor a forgiving woman.

“I’ll take care of her,” he said.

“What’s the point? The FBI has the necklace.”

“But shouldn’t she still be punished?” He was puzzled by her sudden lack of interest in the woman. Hadn’t she still sinned by having a sacred object in her possession? “And what of Dr. McGowan? Shouldn’t she be punished for what her great-grandfather did?”

“Let me think.” She barely heard him, and dismissed him with the wave of her hand as she continued to pace.

She needed a plan. She needed to focus.

But most of all, she needed to insure that there was no way any of this could ever be traced back to her.

20

“C onnor, what the hell are you doing?” Mia came into the kitchen carrying an empty coffee cup.

“Collecting evidence.” He sat on the floor, a sheet of white computer paper in front of him on the old linoleum, Sweet Thing sitting as nicely as could be. Connor leaned closer, the scissors in his right hand, his left hand holding the dog’s jaw upright.

“Connor? What are you…?” Daria asked from the doorway.

“Come here and hold her head for me,” he said without looking up.

Daria walked over and placed a hand on the dog’s head.

“What are you doing, Connor?” she repeated.

“I need to cut some of the fur from around her mouth,” he told her. “Would you please hold her head?”

Daria did as he asked, speaking softly to the dog, who really didn’t appear to be too distressed.

“Does she have a mat?” Daria asked. “I didn’t notice a mat.”

“No, but what she does have is a different color in the fur around her mouth than on the rest of her body. See?” He pointed with his index finger. “The brown here is a little lighter.”

“Funny, I didn’t notice that before,” she said.

“It wasn’t there until late last night.”

“I don’t get it.”

“It’s dried blood. From where she nipped the prowler.”

He concentrated on snipping the bits of fur where the brown was darkest.

“I know you have a point, but you’ve lost me.”

“I think the blood from the handprint on Damien Cross’s back door came from the kid we picked up here last night. I think when he and whoever he’s working with killed Cross, he was attacked by Sweet Thing. She bit his arm. His arm would have bled down onto his hand. When he opened the back door to run out and get away from the dog, he left a print.” Satisfied that he had all he needed, Connor carefully folded the paper and stuck it in his shirt pocket. “He also left blood in the dog’s mouth last night.”

Mia leaned closer to look. “It does look like dried blood.”

“What made you even think of that?” Daria asked.

“While I was questioning the kid-or trying to, because he isn’t speaking-I noticed the puncture marks on his arm. Looked like a dog bite to me. It wasn’t hard to connect those dots.”

“That’s why she took off after him last night. She remembered.” Daria patted the dog’s head. “What a smart girl you are.”

“A dog isn’t likely to forget the scent of someone who killed her master.” Mia nodded. “So you’re going to match the blood from her fur to the blood on the door at the victim’s house, to put him at the scene of the Cross murder.”

“Yes. And then we’re going to match the marks on his arm to Sweet Thing’s bite. All nice and tidy.” Connor stood up and put the scissors on the counter. He went to the cupboard and got a biscuit to reward the dog for her very good behavior.

“Won’t you have to get a warrant for that?” Mia asked.

“We have two jurisdictions here. The murder we want to match the blood to is in Delaware. The kid, however, is here in PA, being held on trespassing and prowling charges. I think the warrant to match the bite marks is going to have to come from Coliani in New Castle. He’s going to the DA this morning to see if he can get the warrant now, or if the kid has to be transferred to Delaware first. But red tape aside, I think we’ll be able to get the kid to crack before we have to match the bite marks. We’ll let him know we have his DNA from the cup he drank from, and we’ll tell him that we matched it to blood we found at the scene. Now we have his blood from last night, and I’m certain it will match up to the blood on Damien Cross’s back door. Is he going to want to take the fall for this? I doubt it.” Connor gave Sweet Thing another treat. “I think at that point, we can get him to give up whoever is calling the shots.”

“You don’t think this kid did the killings by himself?” Mia asked.

“No way, unless he drugged them, and there was no indication of that in the autopsy reports. I see the kid as an accomplice, willing or unwilling. He isn’t the one behind this, and that’s the person we want.” He turned to Daria. “Can you be ready to leave in fifteen minutes or so?”

“I thought we didn’t have to be at Cavanaugh’s until noon?”

“We don’t, but we’re going to have to stop at the New Castle County police station. I already left a message for Coliani. I want to turn the clippings from Sweet Thing over to him and I want to see if he knows of a vet in his area who can do the impression from the dog’s mouth. It’s his murder scene, his jurisdiction. He should be handling the evidence.”