Free Who Let the Dog Out? by David Rosenfelt Page A

what was going on?”
    He nods. “I think both Eric and Michael were doing work not sanctioned by the university, which they chose to keep from me. They were here long hours, but the output that we were shown never corresponded to those hours.”
    “What kind of work did they specialize in?”
    “Eric is both an organic and physical chemist, absolutely outstanding. We were lucky to have him as long as we did; he would have been welcomed at any institution, and certainly could have called his shot in private industry.”
    “And Caruso?”
    “Talented, probably on my level, but not in Eric’s league. Very few are in Eric’s league.”
    I ask Horowitz the obligatory questions about whether he has knowledge of Brantley’s whereabouts, and he says that he doesn’t. I believe him, though I’m certain he would not tell me if he did know.
    As I’m about to leave, I ask, “Did you ever meet Eric’s dog?”
    Horowitz smiles. “Zoe? I certainly did; Eric made bringing the dog to work a condition of his employment. He loves that dog … she is very sweet. What happened to her?”
    “Well, I would say she’s been leading an interesting life.”

 
    For Stephanie Manning, things had gone from horrifying to surreal. First came the news that Michael Caruso was murdered. She had met Michael a bunch of times, of course through Eric, but really didn’t know him that well. Eric didn’t talk about his work much, and Stephanie always assumed that was because he correctly gauged that she wouldn’t understand any of it.
    But Stephanie had never been connected to any kind of violence like that. A distant cousin of hers had once been raped, but Stephanie was just ten at the time, and she hadn’t really fully understood the implications. She also had never met the cousin, so she wasn’t emotionally impacted by it.
    Then, right on the heels of the news about Michael was the revelation that Eric was a suspect. She just assumed that it was a terrible mistake, and that he would explain things to the authorities in a way that would clear him.
    Following that, the third of a three-punch devastating combination was learning that Eric was missing. That’s not how the police characterized it; “missing” implied that he might somehow also be a victim. It was clear they thought he had fled out of fear of prosecution.
    But Stephanie didn’t believe it, not for a second. Eric was innocent; Michael was his closest friend in the world, her excluded. In fact, they were two of the only friends that Eric, a true loner, had. That, coupled with the fact that Eric was as gentle a soul as she had ever met, precluded his guilt. It made no sense that he would run, rather than stay and prove his innocence.
    So the truth, she feared, had to be worse. Whoever had killed Michael must have been after Eric as well, and either captured him, killed him, or caused him to go into hiding.
    Stephanie was a logical person, and could not hide from the fact that Eric’s being in hiding made little sense. He shouldn’t be so afraid of the people that killed Michael that he’d need to run; if he turned himself in to the police, and told what he knew, he would be protected.
    So every day the situation grew more frightening, and more surreal. Just seeing Eric’s picture on every newscast, with the announcers talking about him like he was a murderer, was hard for her to process as reality.
    But if Eric was okay, then he was watching those newscasts as well, and he was not reaching out to anyone. Not the authorities. Not Stephanie.
    Stephanie stayed home as much as she could; as a freelance features writer, her time was pretty much her own. She did not want to leave the phone, in case Eric called her. He had her cell number if she went out, but service in her area was occasionally spotty, and she didn’t want to take a chance on missing his call.
    So she was home when the UPS truck pulled up and the driver walked to her porch, carrying a small package. She signed