Chapter 4 - The Man In The Work Jacket
The cleanout company records led them to a maintenance subcontractor named Russell Keene, forty-seven years old, with one prior complaint involving unlicensed backyard breeding that had never resulted in charges. His supervisor swore Russell had only been assigned to board windows at the property, not enter it after hours. When Daniel and Mercer found him that evening at a two-bay garage behind his duplex, he was rinsing mud from a kennel tray and acting mildly offended that anyone would interrupt dinner. He denied knowing anything about dogs. Then Mercer showed him a still image from the neighbor’s camera, magnified enough to reveal the red shoulder patch and the dent along the passenger-side door of his pickup. The politeness drained out of him.
Russell changed stories three times in ten minutes. First he claimed he had only checked the house for squatters. Then he said he found the puppies under a porch and thought the mother had abandoned them. Finally he said what he probably believed sounded reasonable: he had planned to sell the litter before “that mutt” made it difficult. “She followed them in,” he muttered. “I figured she’d bark, I’d come back, and I’d deal with it.” Daniel did not move, but the room around him seemed to narrow. “You chained a dog inside an unplugged freezer with her newborns,” he said. Russell shrugged once, too careless even then. “It wasn’t plugged in.” Mallory, who had come in behind them, looked like she might actually lunge at him. Detective Mercer stepped closer first and asked where he had taken the puppies from. That answer led them to a condemned porch two blocks from the abandoned house, where old blankets, paw prints, and a shallow food bowl sat tucked behind broken lattice. The mother had built herself a den there. Russell had not rescued anything. He had robbed a nest.
