Before It's Too Late

her in the dim light by the brim of his cap. I'm sorry, no. Sandy cast her eyes around for any sign of the animal, pulling Ruby a little closer, as if to protect her with her own body. I'm pretty sure it came down here. If I could suggest, maybe skip the creek side path and head up to North Columbus Street, if that's the direction you're going. Not so much cover up there, and you'll see him if he takes a run at you. Your dog is up to date on his vaccines? She is, yes. Thank you for your concern. Come on, Ruby. We'll cut across North Columbus and dip back down into the park on the other side of Arlington Boulevard. Thank you, ma'am. Wouldn't want either of you getting bitten. He stood aside on the access path, as if to allow them to pass. I'm going to search down here some more. I'd prefer to put the poor creature out of its misery, rather than leave it to suffer. Sandy gave the leash a gentle pull, and Ruby reluctantly trotted along at her side, her eyes staying locked on the stranger. They passed the man. Now she could see he was in full uniform, whose face was turned away as he scanned the bushes, and they pushed up the short hill. The street above was just coming into view when a vicious hold suddenly wrapped around her. She struggled against the vice, but a hand slapped over her nose and mouth, smothering her with something cold and wet. The deep breath she was drawing to scream pulled in a suffocating cloud of chemical fumes instead of fresh air. Ruby barked furiously, but the man landed a brutal kick to the side of her head. With a broken whimper, the dog staggered backward. Panic, that terrifyingly familiar friend rose and clawed at Sandy's throat as her vision started to blacken. She reached for her injured dog, but even as her fingers stretched out, darkness closed over her. Chapter 1 Opening Volley, The First Shots Fired in a War. The hound dog mix was found wandering alone on North Wakefield Street. Sporting a service dog vest, she dragged her leash behind her as she staggered down the sidewalk, her head sweeping from side to side as if searching for her owner. One of the neighbors, a dog owner herself, spotted the dog and lured her closer with a treat before catching her leash. It was only by chance that she noticed the note peeking out from the small plastic bone containing waste bags. 2. Meg Jennings, Forensic K-9 Unit, FBI. I-M-H-F-L, H-V-V-G-J, R-V-Y-U-L, H-H-C-G-W, F-S-G-G-X, R-A-U-U-L, L-R-A-V-S, Q-W-B-Q-Y, V-I-C-P-E, O-I-R-C-R, G-V-C-C-X, K-I-W-N-S, F-O-C-U-X, L-G-E-K-R, J-S-H-J-I, U-P-C-H-I. The FBI's cryptanalysis and racketeering records unit wasted no time running the code through their big computers while special agents discovered the identity of the missing woman, Ms. Sandy Holmes, a veteran of the Second Iraq War who suffered from occasionally debilitating bouts of PTSD and never went anywhere without her dog. To find the dog alone was a significant concern. An hour later, the cryptanalysts confirmed her disappearance as they revealed the real message behind the string of 80 capital letters addressed to the FBI search dog handler. Find her before she dies. Come to Washington's house in Alexandria. The clock is ticking on her life. Monday, May 22, 9.44 PM. Forensic K-9 unit, J. Edgar Hoover Building, Washington, D.C. Washington's house? Do they mean Mount Vernon? Brian Foster asked. Craig Beaumont nodded. The supervisory special agent in charge of the human scent evidence team, part of the forensic K-9 unit, cast his gaze around his team of handlers and dogs gathered in the bullpen. That's what the CRRU cryptanalysts are saying. Mount Vernon is near the city of Alexandria, and they think Ms. Holmes is being held on the property. I don't know what we're looking at, so I want you all to go. Scott, we've got the dog's leash, so you'll be able to use that for tracking. Scott Park laid a hand on the head of Theo, his lanky, droopy-eyed bloodhound. Nothing he loves more than a good hunt. To punctuate Scott's words, Theo gave a huge, ear-slapping head shake, his jowls flapping in concert. Meg Jennings stared down at the driver's license photo of the missing woman, which she gripped in one white-knuckled hand. Craig, is there anything that indicates why he sent the message to me? I don't even know this woman. Nothing so far, and I really don't like the fact that we're not in the same boat.