Page 14 of So Deadly
Turk snorted indignantly, and if Faith hadn’t just seen a person literally cut to ribbons, she would have laughed.“Yes, I’ve seen the dog,” she said.“You’re claiming that it’s a fake service dog?”
“I mean, it was obvious,” Norwood explained.“Service dogs are supposed to be well-behaved.Like him.”
Turk snorted again and lifted his chin with great dignity.
“So, this dog wasn’t well-behaved?”
Norwood chuckled.“Hell no.We didn’t think anything was wrong because all that barking you heard?That was every day.Sometimes at night.”
“Did anyone talk to Margaret about the problem?”
“Oh yeah, we all did.Most everyone on this block.”
“One on one or all together?”
“No, one on one.It wasn’t like we grabbed pitchforks and marched on her house.”
Faith nodded.“So, you talked to Margaret, and what did she say?”
“To me?‘Fuck off, asshole.Mind your own God-freaking business.’I remember it specifically because it’s the only time I’ve ever heard anyone say God-freaking.”
“So, she wasn’t receptive to complaints about her dog.”
“She wasn’t receptive to complaints about anything.She was one of those women who like… like… she was entitled is what I mean.You know the word.I don’t want to say it.”
“A Karen?”Faith asked drily.
“Yeah, exactly.”He blinked.“Not that I agree with what happened to her or anything.”
“Right.”
“You gotta understand, Special Agent, this dog was a menace.It wasn’t just the barking.It was aggressive too.She’d walk it, and it would growl anytime anyone came within twenty feet.And she wouldn’t do anything to stop him.Wouldn’t move out of the way either.If you tried to stand your ground, she’d say, ‘I’ll let him bite you if you don’t move.’Like it was the world’s job to get out of her way.This one time a kid was playing in his front yard, and the dog snapped at him.The parents came out all red-faced, and Margaret had the gall to tell them that it was their fault for letting the kid play ‘on the street.’When her dog jumped onto their lawn to get to him.”
Faith raised an eyebrow.“Do you mind telling me which house this is?”
Norwood hesitated.“I mean… I don’t think they had anything to do with this.”
“Probably not,” Faith agreed, “but I want the house just the same.”
Norwood shifted his feet, reluctant to rat out his neighbors.“Look, I shouldn’t speak for other people.It’s not my bus—”
“Mr.Norwood,” Faith interrupted.“Margaret Hayes wasn’t just killed.She was literally torn to pieces.I’ve fought on actual battlefields before, and I’ve never seen a body that looked like hers.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said quietly.“I know.”He lifted a shaky hand to his forehead.“Shit.I’m sorry.Number two-fifty-three.The Leightons.”
“Thank you.”
She turned to leave.Norwood grabbed her arm, a major no-no, but he let go instantly when Turk bared his teeth.
“I really didn’t want this to happen to her,” he said.“I didn’t like her, but no one wanted her killed like that.”
“Someone did,” Faith replied.
Norwood lowered his eyes.She left him there and headed for two-fifty-three, a single-story ranch house at the corner that looked a little out of place among the two- and three-story colonials that dominated the neighborhood.
A woman came to the door when Faith knocked.She wore a ragged t-shirt, no bra, baggy sweatpants and the world-weary expression that only overworked mothers could perfect.She took one look at Turk and that expression instantly hardened.“No dogs.We don’t allow dogs in this house.”
“I’m fine talking on the porch, ma’am,” Faith said, “and for the record, Turk is anactualK9.Your son could smack him in the head with a whiffle ball bat all day, and he’d sit there and take it.”
