Brigit lay on her cushion in the cruiser, facing the back window in a puppy pout. She didn’t appreciate Megan scolding her and pushing her away from that man. Sniffing privates was a natural instinct for a dog. If Megan didn’t like it, then maybe she should work with a human instead of a K-9.
Before Megan had pushed her away, Brigit had already gotten a tell-tale whiff of the man. She knew he was the same man she’d scented outside the building where she and Megan had waited at lunchtime today, the same one she’d smelled at the house with the dog with the smushed face. She’d smelled the blood on his bandage, too. It was the same blood she’d smelled before in the man’s kitchen. Well, almost the same. Her nose had detected very small differences among the puddles, and his blood smelled slightly different tonight, too.
Her nose detected an influx of familiar scents as the cruiser rolled to a stop and Megan cut the motor. She stood and looked out the window, flexing her nostrils for a better smell. What do you know? They were back at smushy-face’s house again.