Another bus came and left. A man sat at the bus stop with a large dog at his feet. Resting from their walk, perhaps. He remembered passing them as he drove in and that was some streets back.

Jack looked at the technician “You’re right. We may need to move these girls again.”

“I’ll disconnect the app for you.”

“Could you do that?” Jack asked. “I’ll go in and have a chat with the girls and put in a call to the operations centre.” Jack looked back at the bus stop. The man at the bus stop. Nothing. Jack’s spiritual, supernatural perception lens may need some focusing. Maybe he needed to get a dog.

54 – In the dog house

THE MAN AND THE LANKY CHICK stood on the front porch, chatting. Toby looked down at his backpack and considered his crossbow. He was within striking range but wasn’t sure if it would be a kill and just wounding them would serve no purpose. And he was a better hunter than that. He would wait for his opportunity.

The frequency of the buses had picked up. Another bus dropped of more commuters and left.

The man had stared over in his direction a couple of times. Toby didn’t want to be observed, didn’t want the man to get suspicious, so he stood up, untied the dog’s leash, and started walking away from the house. The streets lights came on.

The dog looked back at the sound of an approaching vehicle. The car lights reflected off the tree trunks, casting dark shadows. Toby turned his head slightly and checked the driver. It was the lanky chick. She stared straight ahead, her thoughts on her boyfriend or food or clothes.

The dog refocused and looked straight ahead. Why wasn’t this dog pining for his owner? Maybe the dog enjoyed the freedom; released from prison. Toby could empathise. The dog wagged its tail as if tuned into his thinking. Toby thought of his mum. She used to communicate with dead animals, giving solace to the grieving owners. He laughed, because he’d killed a few pets in his time. Had any of those departed doggies and cats ever tried to communicate with his mum about her naughty son?

He looked at the dog in front of him. He’d never killed a dog this big before. Never needed to—it was the little yelping ones that he hated. The sound of another car came from behind him, and the dog turned again. Toby sensed the driver looking at him so gave the car a cursory gaze. The car slowed and then sped up. Toby’s heart sped up in rhythm with the car. Deep breaths. He watched the car get to the end of the street, indicate, and turn right onto the main road.

“Sorry mate, but we need to go our separate ways now.”

It was as though the dog understood, because it lay down near a fence. Toby tied the lead to a fence paling, turned, and started walking back to the house.

The dog barked. Toby could do without the noise, which might draw attention to him. He removed his backpack, placed it on the ground, and rummaged around until he found what he was looking for. He returned to the dog, unwrapped a muesli bar, and placed it on the ground. The dog stopped barking and stared at the possible treat. The dog snuffled around the bar, then wrapped his enormous mouth around it. Toby hoped the dog would find it a chewing challenge. He walked towards the house.

No barking this time. Good. No distractions. He walked past the dark house. No lights on—strange. He continued walking down the street. His heart lodged in his mouth as blue and red lights reflected off the house windows surrounding him, but the lights receded. It was the surveillance car leaving, in a hurry to get to another destination. Also strange.

He turned and walked back towards the house. He could see the dog standing, looking in his direction. The dog gave a woof and waited for a response. None came. The dog gave another woof. Another person was approaching the dog, cautiously, and the dog’s tail was wagging.

Good. A distraction.

Toby stood in front of the house, perplexed. The gods made him bold. He decided to take a risk, to walk up to the front door. A voice in his head told him they were gone. Where? He knocked on the door. No answer. Waited and knocked again.

Still no answer. He walked around the house. The voice was right—it looked like they were gone.

He trusted the gods. This was not a trap.

He scouted the house and found an unlocked window. Careless, or was it a trap? He removed a flashlight from his backpack, and a semi-automatic pistol. He pulled back the slide on the pistol. Yes, he could see the end of a cartridge in the chamber. It was loaded.

He strapped his bow over his shoulder. His stealth weapon. Quiet and deadly.

Convincing himself it wasn’t a trap—in some ways he hoped it was—he entered the house.

<°)))><

Jack’s thoughts were on the man walking the dog. He was dressed in baggy denim jeans, a black hooded top, and carried an oversized backpack. Why such a big bag? Maybe he needed to carry dinosaur bones for the dog. It was a puzzle.

As Jack turned onto the main thoroughfare, he saw a man walking ahead of him, walking quickly. He’d seen this man before, remembered his jacket. The man stopped to talk to another pedestrian, who shook her head and the man rushed off. Jack remembered where he’d seen the man before. It was the man who’d been walking the dog when Jack drove past earlier.

Jack pulled his vehicle over and wound down his window. “Hi there, everything okay with you?” Jack showed the man his police badge.

The man stopped and looked at Jack and then his badge. “Just looking for my dog, officer.”

“What sort of dog is it?” Jack asked.

“A Newfoundland.”

“Sorry, not familiar with that breed. Could you describe it?”

“He’s a black dog. Big. Comes up to my waist.”

“Actually, I think someone may have found it. Jump in and I’ll take you back to where I saw it.”

The man looked pleased and rushed around to the passenger door.

“Detective Jack Kinnaird.” Jack put out his hand.

“Paul Smith.”

The team could wait. Something was drawing him back to the house. He knew through instinct that he needed to follow. “Well, Paul, let’s go find your dog.” Jack checked his rear view mirror, did a U-turn and headed back to the where he last saw the dog near the bus shelter.

They’d just turned into the street when the man sat forward. “There he is. Thank you so much for this.”

Jack pulled over to let the man out, and he ran over to a huge black dog the size of a small horse. Jack wasn’t sure if the dog was excited to see him or not. It seemed to be a dog with its emotions under control, aloof even. Jack’s phone rang.

“Hello, Jack speaking.”

“Detective Jack Kinnaird?”

“Yes, speaking.”

“It’s Kelly from the Operations Centre. Just wanted to let you know that the team have located the suspect’s vehicle.”

“Where?”

“Up north. Nambour.”

“And the offender?”

“No sign, sir. Looked like the car had been abandoned. But they located a mobile phone in the trunk.”

The phone in the trunk confirmed their fears. “Okay, get the forensic team onto the car. Thanks for the call.”

Jack watched the man walk off with his dog. The man turned and gave Jack a thank-you wave, then returned to the task of making sure his horse didn’t escape again. Something bothered Jack. The groan from the tree branch rubbing against the old bus shelter still floated into his car through closed windows. Jack felt old too, he needed some sleep.

But something bothered him. The phone was found in the trunk of the car. Why the trunk? And the man with the dog?