A Judgment of Whispers Read Free

cruiser.
    â€œHey, Rob.” She smiled, then saw his passenger in the backseat. “Aw, what a cute dog. What’s his name?”
    â€œRover.”
    â€œWhen did you start working with the Canine Squad?”
    For an instant he was tempted to tell her he now worked narcotics and this was a drug-sniffing hound. But he was a bad liar and the dog looked more like he’d been on drugs rather than sniffing them out.
    â€œI haven’t,” admitted Saunooke. “He’s a stray. I’m taking him to the pound.”
    â€œAw.” Sandra stuck out her lower lip. “But he looks so sweet. Here, give him this.” She handed him an order of bacon destined for some other customer. “I’d take him home with me, but my landlord would have a fit.”
    â€œYou’re still nice to give him the bacon,” said Saunooke. He watched her as she rolled back to the kitchen, wondering what it was like to strap on roller skates the first thing in the morning. He ate then, feeding the dog little bites of egg and bacon through the mesh of the cage. They’d almost finished when the radio squawked again.
    â€œSaunooke? What’s your 10-20?”
    â€œSoco Road,” he replied vaguely, not wanting admit he was at the Sonic Drive-In, feeding bacon to a stray dog.
    â€œYou been to the pound yet?”
    He winced. “Not yet.”
    â€œOkay. I need you to stop off at the Lone Oak Acres construction site. I got a call about somebody up there trying to hot wire a bulldozer.”
    â€œ10-4.” Saunooke started his engine. “On my way.”

    Lone Oak Acres was a newer development than Elk Mountain Estates. Pricey green houses were scheduled to be built along winding Salola Drive, with bike paths to the university, walking paths to town, and a shared green space for a playground and community vegetable gardens. Most of the old ’50s ranch houses had been leveled, their lots now just mounds of red Carolina clay. But four families remained, today having a yard sale, junk piled high on card tables. Saunooke drove past the shoppers trudging from house to house and turned towards the construction site, where a number of bright yellow bulldozers and backhoes surrounded the huge old oak tree his people called Undli Adaya . His heart gave a funny jump. Twenty-five years ago, this was where little Teresa Ewing had disappeared. The whole county had gone nuts searching for her, then a month later, a jogger found her body between the roots of that big tree. Though the police had half a dozen suspects, they weren’t able to pin the murder on any of them. Saunooke, who’d been in diapers when the girl died, had studied the case at the police academy. It remained unsolved, and every Halloween dispatch would get calls from people wildly claiming to have seen a pretty little girl in a green jacket standing wraith-like beneath the tree, until she vanished before their astounded eyes.
    He pulled up next to one of the bulldozers. Suddenly the dog began to whine, pawing at the back window. Saunooke hesitated a moment, wondering if he ought to let the animal out. If he did, he might run away and annoy a different neighborhood. But if he didn’t, the dog might crap in his backseat. He’d eaten a lot of bacon at the Sonic.
    Not wanting to clean dog crap out of his cruiser, Saunooke got out and opened the back door. “Okay, Rover. Go do your business.”
    The dog hopped out and trotted off, lifting his leg against one of the backhoes. Saunooke made a circuit of the construction vehicles, slipping through the rutted clay soil. Considerable excavation had gone on back here—they’d carved up the earth for underground utility lines and staked skinny little orange flags down to mark off the boundaries of the yet-to-be-built houses. Saunooke glanced over his shoulder at the dog, half-hoping the animal might grasp his last chance at freedom. But the dog ambled along behind