Chapter 17: A Trail

Jake's POV

The smell was worse in the house. Much worse. He had to steady himself not to visibly gag.

It was carnage. It was a bloodbath. It was desperation.

Blood splattered the walls, and there was a pool of it on the kitchen floor.

"Did the old man have a pet?" a crime scene photographer was asking.

"I don't believe so, although some of the neighbors reported a large black dog hanging around the house." The officer that responded was young, a strawberry blonde rookie. He was a good cop, though, with good instinct. Jake was embarrassed he couldn't remember the man's name.

"Come look at this," the photographer said, motioning by the back door.

Jake followed the strawberry blonde over to it.

One bloody paw print was smudged in the doorway.

Jake's stomach was doing flips.

No.

It confirmed about a hundred of his suspicions, but it made him sick, nonetheless.

This was strictly forbidden.