KNIFE OR gun?

Knife, Marrok decided as he knelt to examine the lay of the grass. A knife was quiet, and besides, it was more personal. He wanted to slice that bastard's heart out.

The grass was crushed beside the palm tree. This was where the shooter had stopped and climbed the tree to get the vantage point for his shot.

The shot that had taken Ned down.

Keep cool. Smother the anger. He was on the hunt, and every sense should be keen and unimpaired until he found the prey.

The phone in his pocket vibrated.

"Did I interrupt anything?" Walt Franks asked when he picked up. "Mayhem? Any removal of body parts?"

"Not yet. I haven't found him. And I haven't let him find me. I've been dodging the local military for most of the day. But it's getting dark now, and we'll be getting together soon. I'd bet he's in the foothills waiting to pounce. Why are you calling?"

"Dr. Devon Brady. You wanted a report to make sure that it wasn't a mistake entrusting your canine friend to her."

"Talk."

"Thirty-two. Parents dead. She was an army brat and traveled all over the world from post to post. Married when she was seventeen to a Lester Enright. Divorced four years later. No children. Her ex-husband is a detective with the Denver Police Department. She worked her way through school and managed to save enough by the time she was twenty-seven to buy a veterinary practice from a Dr. Nicholas Gilroy, who was supposedly retiring. But he's still working with her. Frankly, I don't know how she pays him. Most of her income seems to be going to local kill-free animal shelters and paying her way on volunteer Search and Rescue disaster missions. This is the third one she's been on in the last eighteen months." He paused. "Guardian material?"