Both areas were cordoned off, yellow crime-scene tape strung around trees and porch railings.
“One of my men found something near the tree line. I thought you might want to see it.” Dane held up an evidence bag with a bright blue mitten in it. “Thing was clean as a whistle. Not a leaf on it. Not a stick. Not a speck of grass covering it.”
“It looks like a kid’s mitten,” he said, taking the bag and turning it over.
“A small kid’s,” Dane agreed. “There was no tag on it. Looks like something someone’s grandmother might have made.”
It did. “Where was it found?”
“A few feet from the path that leads to that foster home next door. All Our Kids?”
Gavin knew it better than most. He’d lived in the home during his last two years of high school.
“Want to show me?” he asked, and Dane led the way to the woods that edged Harland’s property. Wide and well used, the path was easy to find. A man and woman searched the area nearby, their K-9 partners sniffing the ground. Glory wanted in on the action, her lean body tense with anticipation. She’d get her chance soon.
“Here’s where it was.” Dane pointed to a couple of bushes that sat near the tree line. A small evidence flag poked out from the ground. Gavin stood close to it and glanced toward Harland’s house. A clear view of the back patio and the area where the congressman had been found.
He crouched so that he was closer to child-size. Still a clear view. The outside lights had been on. If a child had been standing where the mitten was when the shooting occurred, he or she would have seen everything.
“What do you think?” Dane asked, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, his gaze on the house. He was asking, but he knew. They had a potential witness, and the thought of that sent a wave of adrenaline coursing through Gavin.
“Did you send someone over to All Our Kids?”
“Not yet. It’s your case, your call. You want to go over or do you want me to?”
“I’ll go.” His boss, Margaret Meyer, had assigned him the case. As head of the president’s special in-house security team, she’d put Capitol K-9 together and was the hub of the organization. The fact that a congressman had been shot and his son killed had been enough for her to want Capitol K-9 involved. Gavin had asked to lead the case. He’d known the Jeffries for years, owed Harland a lot, was determined to make sure Michael’s killer was brought to justice. He walked to the path, eyeing the dark edges of the woods. If he were a young kid running from a killer, would he go home or hide?
Probably home, but Gavin didn’t want to take any chances. Glory was trained in apprehension. Part of that training was scent tracking. He opened the evidence bag, bent so that Glory could get a whiff of the mitten. Her ears perked, her eyes sharpened with interest.
“Find!” he commanded, and she lunged toward the trees, loped onto the path. He ran behind her, the lead loose in his hand.
Moonlight filtered through the thick tree canopy, casting golden-yellow light across dead leaves and winter-dry undergrowth. Spring hadn’t quite made its appearance, the early March air frigid with winter’s last sting. If a child was out in this, he’d be cold, tired, scared.
Glory veered off the path, plunging through undergrowth and between trees. She didn’t hesitate. She had the scent, and she’d follow it to her mark.
* * *
She stopped a dozen feet off the path, nose to the ground, snuffling a pile of leaves. She circled a large oak, found her way onto the path again. Gavin had walked this way so many times when he was a teen that he could have done it blindfolded.
Glory paused again, cocked her head to the side and growled low in her throat.
Bushes rustled, twigs snapped.
Gavin grabbed his light and flashed it into the trees.
Nothing. Not even a hint of movement, but Glory growled again, her entire body tense, her muscles taut.
Criminal or kid. That was Gavin’s guess.
“Police!” he called. “Come on out!”
Nothing.
“You come out or I’ll send my dog in,” he warned.
Nothing.
Okay. Fine. They’d do it the hard way.
“Track!” he issued the command, and Glory lunged off the path, shoving through thick foliage, her wild bark ringing through the cold March air. He called in his location as he followed.
Up ahead, feet pounded on dead leaves. Whoever it was was heading toward the road. He wouldn’t make it. Not before Glory caught up.
“Track!” he urged again, and Glory howled her response. She loved the chase almost as much as she loved the find.
Somewhere nearby, sirens screamed.
Another emergency?
Not uncommon in DC’s rougher areas, but in the Jeffrieses’ posh neighborhood, crime was nearly non-existent.
Glory stopped short, her ears perked, her scruff standing on end. She swiveled, turning in the direction they’d come. Gavin could still hear branches breaking in front of them, but Glory was trained in protection. She wouldn’t move toward a fleeing threat if there was another threat coming up from behind.
She growled, her dark eyes focused on the trees behind them. Gavin aimed his light in that direction, saw a shadow darting through the trees.
“Stop!” he shouted. “Police!”
The shadow kept going.
“I’m releasing my dog!” he yelled.
He unclipped Glory’s lead, gave her the command.
She lunged into the trees, muscle and fur and enough power to take down a grown man. She wouldn’t. Not until she was given the command, but she’d be able to corner whoever it was, keep him or her from escaping.
He ran after her, sprinting into the dense foliage, heading back the way they’d come. He hit the path at a dead-out run, his light bouncing across dirt and leaves, splashing over Glory and her mark. Small. Wearing jeans and T-shirt. A woman or a kid. Long hair, so he’d say female.
The rest of the details were lost as she veered off the path, ran into the trees. She must have thought she could lose Glory that way.
Wasn’t going to happen.
The woman screamed, the sound cut off by leaves rustling and Glory’s wild bark.
Gavin sprinted forward, his light bouncing off Glory’s brown-black coat.
“Release!” he commanded, and she moved to his side. She’d stay there until he told her differently.
“You may as well come down,” he said, moving the beam
