for it. Is the case file still up to date on your iPad? Look at the high-res photos of that device.”
“My iPad’s in the van downstairs.”
“Okay, then do take my word for it. This unusual pair of pliers—or a pair exactly like them—was used to make that fake bomb.”
By this time, two techs had come over to look at the pliers she was holding.
Metcalf turned to them. “Bag it. We’ll check any imperfections against the impressions in that wire she’s talking about. We may be able to get an exact match.”
Kendra surrendered the pliers to one of the techs, who placed it into a clear plastic evidence bag.
“Good work,” Metcalf said to her. “Anything else catch your eye?”
Kendra stepped into the living room. She took a closer look at the coffee table, which was topped by magazines that included Guns and Ammo, Tactical Weapons, American Handgunner, and Soldier of Fortune.
“Nice that he supports printed media, but it’s kind of a scary collection to a gentle soul like me,” Lynch said.
“What do you expect from a guy like this?” Kendra asked. “Good Housekeeping?”
“Good point.”
Kendra noticed a thin sliver of white protruding from behind the cover of one of the magazines. She picked it up and slid out a glossy photo.
She froze in shock. “What the hell?”
“What is it?” Lynch crossed to where she stood. “Find something?”
“I’ll say I did.” She thrust the photo at him. “Something completely unexpected. And I don’t know what on Earth it means or why Hayes should have it. It’s Harley.”
“What!”
“My response exactly.”
The dog was leashed and walking through a wooded area, accompanied by a woman who could only be seen from the waist down. A large red X was scrawled across Harley, drawn with such force that the photo was torn in places.
Lynch nodded. “It certainly looks like him.”
“It is him,” Kendra said. “No doubt. You can tell by the coloring on his ears and paws.”
Metcalf glanced at the photo. “I’d know that furry face anywhere. It’s definitely Harley.”
“And that may have been Elaine Wessler walking him,” Kendra said. “We can ask her coworkers to see if anyone recognizes the shoes and maybe even her slacks.”
Lynch squinted at the photo. “This looks like it was taken with a zoom lens. And if this was Elaine Wessler, it means someone was stalking her before she was killed. It was no random act of violence.”
“Elaine told her ex-husband that she and her dog had been followed. That’s how this looks to me.” Kendra frowned. “And I’m disturbed by this jagged red X practically carved over Harley. What in the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It looks…violent.” Metcalf was gazing down at the photo. “Almost…an attack. I don’t like this. Harley wasn’t all that fond of me, but I liked the mutt.”
“He liked you. He likes everybody. He just didn’t like that you were keeping him from Olivia.” Kendra turned over the photo. A phone number was inscribed on the back, written in the same red ink.
(619) 555-8422
Kendra pulled out her phone and tapped in the number.
“You’re not calling it, are you?” Lynch said.
“No. Google search.” She looked at the results page. “Nothing.”
Metcalf took the photo from her. “Don’t worry. The FBI’s databases are far better than Google’s. Awesome. We’ll find out who has this number.”
“Thanks.” Kendra started tapping another number in her phone. “But I just had another thought.”
“Now what?” Lynch asked.
“I’m calling Olivia. She has Harley with her and she needs to know about this.” The phone was starting to ring. “And we might not have to wait to check with the FBI’s ‘awesome’ capabilities if Olivia has been her usual numbingly efficient self.”
Chapter
12
A photo of Harley?” Olivia repeated. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would Hayes have a photo of Harley? I can’t see an asshole like him as a dog lover.”
“Neither can I,” Kendra said. “And that photo is hardly affectionate. There’s a big cross slashed across Harley’s face in red pencil that looks like it was done in anger. And on the back of the photo is that phone number I gave you scrawled in the same heavy red pencil. That number isn’t Elaine’s. Will you check the documents Elaine got on Harley from the vet when she agreed to foster him and see if the number is on any of them? You did transfer them to your Tactile text-to-Braille converter?”
“Of course I did,” Olivia said curtly. She went to her desk, took out the folder, and began to verify the numbers. She didn’t find