Brigit had heard the words “damn dog” before, and she could tell by the tone that the big man who smelled of sweat and onions hadn’t liked her pissing on his shoes. But she didn’t give a rat’s ass. The guy had never been nice to her. Besides, Megan sneaked another liver treat out of her pocket and discreetly fed it to Brigit. The dog knew the treat meant she’d been a “good girl,” no matter what the smelly man said, and Megan’s opinion was the only one that really mattered to her.
Although Brigit didn’t fully understand exactly how she’d helped Megan and Detective Jackson tonight, she was smart enough to know that when she’d tracked her way around the perimeter of the car that was no longer in the garage, it had been helpful to them somehow. She could tell that something bloody had been put in the back of the car, could smell the same blood from the kitchen concentrated in that area, could smell the man whose scent was all over the house and on the computer and comb the woman with the little dog had given to Megan’s boss. The icky smell of the automobile exhaust had faded some, but it was still relatively strong. The car hadn’t been gone long from the garage. She wondered if Megan would find the bloody car and if she’d get to chase whoever was inside. Brigit liked to take humans down, show them who was really boss.