Eighteen

Ben praised him and brought him back to the truck. “Might have been in a vehicle. Bool can sometimes track a scent of someone traveling in a vehicle, but conditions don’t seem to be the best for him here.”

“He’s given us a good start,” Frank said. “I called Fischer, and he said to keep him posted. He might pull some of his guys over this way to help out.”

“Let’s give Bingle a try.”

Half a mile in the opposite direction from the Sheriff’s search area, Bingle, who worked off lead, began barking, and rushed back to Ben.

“He’s found him!” Ben said, and praised Bingle in Spanish, the language he used to give the dog commands, then encouraged him to “refind.” The dog bounded ahead a little, looked back at Ben and barked.

“He’s alive, right?” Frank said, knowing that Bingle was trained to howl when he found a dead body, to bark for a live find.

“Yes, but who knows what kind of shape he’s in,” Ben said, hurrying after the dog, who was impatiently barking again. He continued in this way for several yards.

When Ben first saw Lex Toller, the boy was holding tightly to Bingle’s neck. Once again, Ben thought there must have been some mistake. Bingle was a big dog, and weighed more than many children of that age, but this child was too small for eight, surely.

Lex was bundled up in a down jacket and a knit cap-both looked new. Beneath the jacket Ben could see a light sweater. He had a pair of soft long pants on-the type made for hiking in cold weather. The socks and shoes he wore looked new as well. There was a sleeping bag at his feet, and a supply of energy bars and water-and a teddy bear. There was a gauze bandage on his chin, a smaller bandage on his hand. There was a bruise on his forehead. He looked at Ben with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

“¡Muy bien, Bingle! ¡Qué inteligente eres!” Ben said.

Bingle showed his pleasure at the praise, but stayed with the boy, and seemed willing to let the boy hug him as long as he liked. Not something most dogs enjoyed, but no one would ever convince Ben that Bingle and Bool were like most dogs. Bingle was nuzzling the boy now, then lifted his ears and wagged his tail.

A moment later Ben heard what Bingle had heard first-Frank coming up behind him. He heard Frank stop a few feet away.

“Hi, Lex,” Ben said easily. “I’m Ben. That’s Bingle. And this is my friend Frank. We’ve been looking for you.”

For a moment, he didn’t think the boy would reply, but his brows suddenly pulled together and he asked, “What did you say his name is?”

Ben knew he wasn’t asking about the detective. “Bingle.”

“Hi Bingle!” he said to the dog, and giggled as he got a kiss on the ear. “Is he a Spanish Shepherd?”

“Mostly German Shepherd,” Ben said, moving a little closer. “He understands Spanish and English.”

“Good dog, Bingle!” Lex said.

Bingle returned this salutation with another kiss.

“Are you hurt?” Ben asked.

Lex shook his head.

Ben heard Frank making the radio call to Greg Fischer.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Ben asked Lex. “I see some bandages.”

The boy’s hand came up to touch his chin, and his eyes clouded a little. “I want Aunt Sarah.”

“Your aunt? Okay. Let us make sure you aren’t hurt, and I think we can take you to her.”

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

“I have to wait here for the police. I can’t leave with anyone else.”

“I’m a police officer,” Frank said, and held out his badge for Lex to see. “Did Jordy ask you to wait for the police?”

His eyes widened, but he said, “No.” He looked away, and petted Bingle. “I want Aunt Sarah,” he said again.

They got no other information from him. If they asked him any questions, he said, “I want Aunt Sarah.” If he said anything else, it was a question about Bingle-or Bool, once he had been introduced to the bloodhound. He had a nearly endless supply of questions about them.

“Why do these dogs work so hard for you?” he asked Ben at one point.

“We’re friends.”

“It seems like more than friends,” he said. “Like-I don’t know what. But more.”

“Yes, I guess it is,” Ben said. “Devotion.”

He thought again of David, and decided he would have liked this day’s work.

Greg Fischer guided them to a nearby hospital. A doctor examined Lex, and said that other than the cuts and a few bruises, he was fine. “Not even dehydrated,” he said. “And if that kid spent the night outdoors, I’m a monkey’s uncle.”

“What about the cuts?”

“Those bother me, but they look more like they came from something with a sharp edge-broken glass would be my first guess. And they’ve already started to heal. Someone rinsed them out and put antibacterial ointment on them.”

“And the bruises?”

“Harder to know. He tells me he fell. The newest ones do look like that-consistent with a fall against a piece of furniture. He’s got older ones on his back, those look to me like someone hit him with a belt.”

While Lex was getting back in the truck, Frank pulled Ben aside. “I know it’s been a long day, and you and the dogs deserve to go home and rest. But there’s one more thing I’d like to have you check out. You can go home and change, feed them, whatever you need to do, but I think Bool can help us put this together.”

Ben listened to his request, thought of Alice in her bikini, and said, “I’ve got dog food with me. I don’t need to go home.”

When Frank brought Lex into the Las Piernas Police Department headquarters, Pete and Sarah Crane were waiting for them. Lex’s aunt gathered the boy into her arms and held him close to her as she wept with relief. “Oh, Lex, I’m so glad you’re safe. Oh, honey, I’ve been so worried about you.”

After a moment, Frank said, “Ms. Crane, we know you’re anxious to get home, but we have some questions for both you and Lex, so we’ll need to ask you to stay here for a little while longer.”

“After all he’s been through?” she asked indignantly.

“We’re not exactly sure what he has been through, ma’am. Perhaps you’ll have better luck than I did persuading him to answer our questions.”

She seemed ready to rebel, but then asked, “Have you told him yet?”

He shook his head.

“Lex, do you know what happened to your father?”

He didn’t answer.

“Lex, I’m sorry. Your daddy-your daddy is dead.”

“I know. Can I live with you now?”

She looked worriedly at Frank.

“Lex, were you there when he died?” he asked. “You aren’t in trouble. We just want to know what happened.”

He frowned, then said, “I want to go home with Aunt Sarah.”

Frank sighed.

“Please Detective Harriman,” Sarah Crane said. “I promise we won’t leave town or-please, let me take him home. He’s been through so much!”

The phone on Frank’s desk rang. He answered it while Pete made another try to get Lex to talk about anything other than dogs and where he wanted to live. It was Ben.

“Any luck?” Frank asked.

“Yes. I gave Bool the command to ‘find ‘em’ as he sniffed the ground near the foundation vent. I thought that would be kind of a long shot. He was in and around the house, including the bathroom and the place where the body was earlier in the day. Then he headed across the street.”

“To Jordan Kendall’s house?”

“To his pick-up truck.”

“Let me speak to the officer who’s with you. I want that kid down here for questioning, but I want to make sure we handle this right.”

“Before you talk to him, I should let you know something else. Bool found this scent near the stand that holds the other fireplace tools. The lab has the poker now, but I’d say whoever was in that pickup truck has been near that stand.”

“Thanks, Ben.”

Ben was happy to be on his way home with the dogs. His girlfriend, A