Had her truck broken down and she was going to walk her dog all the way back to Brooklyn? While he wouldn’t put it past her, he guessed that she’d gone out for a walk, but for some reason hadn’t come back.
He clicked off the light. Even that little bit of delay had been too much. The sky was shifting from blood red to nighttime deep blue.
No way could he follow her visually. Thankfully he didn’t have to.
Hurrying inside, he opened Bertram’s cage. Stan led the dog down to Brandy’s spot and directed Bertram to her dog bed.
“Verloren.” Lost. Generally a tracker dog and an explosives dog received two very different sets of training, but Bertram had clearly been getting bored about just finding explosives and Stan had expanded his lessons to include tracking scents on the fly. It had been a
