Beware A Silent Dog

By A. Rhea King

Chapter 1

He focused on the rhythm of his jog, on his feet pounding on the sidewalk, and each breath that moved in and out of his chest. He glanced at things as he jogged past them – mostly the beautiful women that would stop what they were doing to watch him pass with a smile. He liked to think they were smiling at him, perhaps offering an unspoken invitation to flirt. But time had taught Ryan Wolfe he was not the object of those affectionate smiles.

Jake was.

Jake loped along at the end of his leash next to him, easily keeping up with his master. It had been a hot day and Ryan had considered leaving him when he got home from work, but Jake challenged that decision by barking and howling as soon as Ryan closed the door behind him. He was not about to be separated from his beloved pack leader for another minute.

Ryan glanced down at the German Sheppard and smiled. He had never considered becoming a dog owner before Jake, and now he wouldn't trade it for anything.

He had found Jake when he was a patrolman. The dog had either been dumped or wandered away from his home and had fallen into a drain. Back then he was just a ball of fur, just beginning to eat solid food. When Ryan took him from the fireman that had pulled him out, Jake lay in his arms, shaking from fear and cold. Those rough few months of learning to tell Ryan he needed out, not to chew everything in sight, and not to howl all day while Ryan was at work were ancient history between the two. Of course, back then Ryan had decided he would train Jake to be a K-9, but then the opening in the CSI came up and the dog's fate changed to a bed-hogging, pizza loving, oversized puppy. Ryan did finish his training, but left out all the aggressive commands of a K-9. Or so he thought. There had been a few occasions during their jogs that people had tried to approach Ryan and Jake made it very clear they were not to be trusted. Ryan trusted the dog's judgment over his own in that area because Jake had never been wrong – he'd discovered that every time he did a search for the person at work the next morning, which usually ended up in an arrest for something they'd done by noon.

The two rounded the corner. Ahead Ryan saw a police car parked in front of his apartment complex. The apartment owner, Derek, was standing outside talking to the officer. Ryan smiled when he saw Officer Anthony Guerro. He and Ryan had graduated from the academy together and Ryan hadn't seen him since he'd stopped gambling. Ryan slowed to a walk, approaching the two men.

"Evening," Ryan panted, putting his hands on his hips.

"Hey, Ryan," the two said at the same time. Derek broke off. "Someone broke your bedroom window."

"Huh?" Ryan asked. He'd only been gone for two hours and it hadn't been broken when he left.

"Yeah. Mrs. Carpeli said she'd heard something." Derek glanced into the apartment courtyard behind him.

Mrs. Carpeli was standing outside her apartment, leaning on her walker, staring at them as if they were suddenly going to run at her with knives and guns blazing. She was the oldest resident, had seen it change hands five times, and complained about every little thing.

"Didn't believe her at first, but then Gracie came up and said she thought she heard a window break out back. I checked it out and your bedroom window was broken. Doesn't look like anything is missing, but I don't really know what you have. There is a lot of blood on the window, in your bathroom and on the floor."

"You want to go check it out?" Anthony asked.

Ryan nodded. The three started toward his apartment.

"What's going on?" Mrs. Carpeli asked.

"Nothing, Mrs. Carpeli. Someone broke a window is all," Derek told her.

"I told you having a cop here was bad. They're a magnet for all those gangs and drug people!"

Mrs. Carpeli was always saying that about Ryan, but he still exchanged a look with Anthony. While Ryan resisted smiling at the comment, Anthony didn't.

"I'll make note of that, Mrs. Carpeli," Derek told her.

"When are you going to come play poker with us again?" Anthony asked Ryan.

Ryan smiled, hiding how much he dreaded that question. He had promised Horatio never to gamble again.

"I gave up gambling. Too hard on the wallet."

Anthony nodded. "Yeah. I'm getting a lot of grief at home about it. Kendra says I spend too much." Anthony paused. When neither Derek nor Ryan sympathized with his misery, Anthony added with a chuckle, "If she'd quit nagging me so much, I'd be happy to spend more time at home!"

Ryan didn't voice his thought of, 'Maybe you should stop gambling away your paycheck and she'd quit nagging you.'

The three entered Ryan's apartment.

Ryan took Jake into the kitchen, pointing to a spot. "Place."

Jake obediently sat down on the spot, letting Ryan take off his leash.

"Stay," Ryan ordered, and then headed to the bedroom where everyone else was.

He took note of his possessions as he walked through the apartment – he didn't notice anything out of place or missing. The apartment was as neat and orderly as he'd left it. The last thing he needed tonight was an OCD anxiety attack in front of people who didn't know he had the disorder.

Cynthia, Derek's wife, was standing by his dresser with a cell phone pressed to her ear. "Still on hold with the insurance company," she told Derek, and then smiled at Ryan. "Guess Miami decided you should work at home too, huh, Ryan?"

Ryan smiled. He looked around his bedroom, treating it more like a crime scene – which it was at the moment.

"The glass was broken from the outside. Did you find what was used to break it?" Ryan asked.

Cynthia piped up. "Yeah. This."

Ryan turned. She was holding up a small hammer. He had to swallow hard to hold back his urge for berating her handling evidence. Ryan grabbed a tissue from his nightstand and took it from her.

"Thanks."

"It was over there," she said, pointing at the bathroom door.

"Should we call CSI?" Anthony said.

Ryan heard the subtle mocking tone and turned to him, smiling as he handed over the small hammer.

"Nothing's missing. No one's dead. We're good."

Anthony chuckled. Despite the jest, he carefully wrapped the tissue around the hammer. "Might still get some prints off this. There's one here on the closet handle."

Ryan had noticed it, but he wouldn't have wasted time printing it at a crime scene. It was smeared and so small he wouldn't have been able to get enough points to run it.

"Do you have everything you need, Anthony?"

"Yep. See you later, Ryan."

As a group they headed back to the front door.

"I'll run to the hardware store and get a board for the window," Derek told him. "I'll be back in a little bit and we can get that up."

Ryan nodded. "Thanks."

He waited until he was sure they had left before he closed the door. He turned and smiled. Jake was still sitting in the kitchen where Ryan had placed him, but the half wall that separated the kitchen from the living room blocked his view. So he was leaning as far to the side as he could to see Ryan. His tail beat the floor a few times.

"Release," Ryan told him.

Jake bound toward him and sat right on Ryan's feet, staring up at him. He brushed the carpet with his tail and would have been smiling if he could have.

Ryan leaned over, petting the dog's head with both hands. "Good boy. Good Jake-o. I have to go clean up the bedroom and then we'll eat. I'll order Chinese and get you some of that pork fried rice you love. And if you talk real nice to me, I'll get you an egg roll. Can you talk real nice to me?"

Jake whimpered and let out a soft yip.

"You do want an egg roll or not?"

Jake yelped, standing up. Ryan laughed, kissing the top of his head. "Okay. One pork egg roll too. Okay. You stay in here so you don't get cut. Here…" Ryan reached over him and grabbed the remote for the TV from the coffee table. He turned it on and switched to the Animal Channel. "You watch TV for now, okay? Watch TV, Jake."

Jake turned and leapt onto the couch. He moved to the end covered with a blanket, turned a couple times and flopped down. Ryan dropped the remote on the couch as he walked past, allowing him to pat Jake's head before he was past. Jake lifted his head, gently nipping Ryan's fingers as they passed his mouth. Ryan laughed.

#

Ryan's mind had wandered off as the hot water flowed over his body. Only half willingly he reached out and turned off the water. He stepped out of the shower and started drying off as he walked back into the bedroom. He glanced down as he passed Jake. He was sitting in front of the closet, staring intensely at it. Ryan rolled his towel and snapped the dog in the haunches, encouraging a short lived game of tug-of-war. Jake lost when he let go to bark at Ryan.

"See? What I tell you about that focus? You'll lose every time if you stop to gloat at me like that."

Jake pranced around Ryan, yipping and nipping at his fingers. Ryan dug out a clean pair of underwear and pulled them on.

"Yeah. I know. I shouldn't have gotten you all riled up before bed. Couldn't help myself. Now settle down. I'm bushed and we're going to sleep."

Ryan left the bedroom to shut off the rest of the lights in the apartment. When he returned, he found Jake sitting in front of the closet again.

"I'm beginning to think you have an imaginary friend living in there, Jake-o." Ryan climbed into bed.

After making sure his alarm was turned on he switched off the light and moved around in bed to find the comfort spot. The thought crossed his mind that one day he'd sure like to have a woman to find a comfort spot at night with, but tonight he'd have to settle for a dog. Ryan found his spot and let out a long sigh.

"Okay, Jake. Come on."

Jake didn't jump up on the bed.

"Sleeping on the floor tonight?" Ryan asked.

Jake pawed at the closet door.

"No."

Silence followed.

Ryan was just on the brink of slipping into slumber when someone sniffled. He opened his eyes and listened for a few minutes. When it didn't happen again, he closed his eyes. Leather softly creaked. Ryan sat up in bed, listening.

Without the bedroom window, his room was darker than normal. He could just barely make out the shape of Jake from the dim light coming in from the living room, and judging from the form, he was sitting at the closet door again. All night he had kept running back to the bedroom to sit and stare at the door. It was as if he knew the closet hid some secret. Ryan's heart skipped a couple beats. Maybe he was listening to something or someone. Ryan sat perfectly still and waited. After several agonizing minutes, he heard a soft sniffle come from the closet.

Ryan switched on the light. Jake didn't take his attention off the door. Ryan slowly climbed out of bed and without looking, reached for his backup pistol sitting on top of his dresser. He pulled it out of the holster and flicked off the safety.

"Is there someone in my closet?" Ryan asked.

No one answered. Jake glanced at him when he took a step toward the closet. The dog dropped to his belly, sniffing at the bottom of the door. Ryan moved slowly toward the door. There were slats in it. Whoever was in there could see him, but he couldn't see them.

Ryan reached out and wrapped his fingers around the handle. He threw open the door, aiming at the person he was expecting to be eye-to-eye with. His aim was five feet too high. The person was pressed into the back of the closet, in a little nook where the closet met the wall. Ryan could tell right away that the person was small and thin – a child, he guessed. He backed up and flicked the overhead light switch. That didn't really help. The child had pushed herself as far as she could against into the back, and probably would have climbed under the shelves if she had been small enough.

Ryan knelt on one knee, holding his gun behind his leg. "Hi there. Why don't you come out and tell me what you're doing in my apartment?"

The child didn't answer. He heard the youngster sniffle.

"I need you to come out. Come on." Ryan waved toward himself, but the child didn't move.

Ryan got up and walked over to his dresser. He dug out a Maglite out of a top drawer and walked back to the closet. He clicked it on, shining it into the darkness. What the bright light revealed stunned Ryan. It was a brunette girl around ten or eleven. She had on denim shorts and a white shirt stained with dried blood. Blood had dried on her thin legs and arms, and streaked her face and hair. She turned her head away enough to keep her eyes out of the light, but so she could still watch him.

"Did you break my window?"

She didn't answer.

"Was that your blood on the window and in the bathroom?"

She remained mute.

"Can you speak?"

She didn't respond.

Ryan sighed, standing up. "I'm going to call the police." He turned, walking toward his cell phone.

Softly, almost too softly for him to hear, she told him, "You are the police."

Ryan stopped and turned. He hurried back, shining his flashlight on her. She was staring at the wall in front of her.

"What did you say?"

She didn't speak again.

"How do you know I work for the police?"

She didn't say.

"Answer me!"

But she didn't. Ryan stood and stormed over to the bedside table. He grabbed his cell phone and returned to keep an eye on her. Jake started toward her but Ryan pulled him back while he made a call.

"Mister Wolfe," was the first words out of Horatio's mouth when he answered. "You're calling awfully late. Is everything alright?"

"I have a situation at my place. Can you come and help me?"

After a few seconds pause Horatio told him, "I'll be there in fifteen minutes."