her to come by if she needed to talk, so in as normal a tone as possible he answered, “Of course, come in.”

 Terry slid through the pet flap. “I hope I’m not intruding,” she said, picking up on his unease. “I just wanted to take you up on your invitation to visit.”

 Rex looked at Terry with a slightly lifted eyebrow. “Trouble already?” he asked. His tone wasn’t skeptical or condescending. To Terry’s surprise, it almost sounded jovial.

 “No,” she replied. “Nothing serious, anyway. I just figured I should get away from it before it got to be too much.”

 Rex nodded his approval “Good thinking.” Inside, he was trying not to show any reaction to the change in Terry’s appearance. Her sandy-yellow fur had obviously been brushed, her shape indicated a swift recovery from malnourishment, and the scent of soap lingering in her fur suggested a recent bath. ‘When Orde finds out she came here looking like this I’ll really have a problem,’ he thought. Then he stopped himself. If she had come here, it was so he could help her. ‘Not so I can worry about her effect on Orde’s impression of me.’

 Terry looked around. “Where’s your owner?” she inquired.

 Rex shrugged, hoping to mask his unease. “The chief decided I’d been knocked around enough already after he saw my bruises the other day, so he decided to handle today’s work on his own. Besides, from what I understand it was going to be more the questioning sort of business than any tracking, so he won’t be needing me.

 Terry nodded at the mention of Rex’s fight. “About that…” she said slowly, as if not sure how to proceed. “Well, thanks. Thanks a lot. I hope it wasn’t that serious.”

 Rex shrugged again. “I’ve had worse,” he replied.

 Feeling awkward, Rex pondered what else to say. ’What does one discuss with a lady?’ he wondered. He had spoken regularly with one or two female dogs who belonged to or worked for Nome’s police, but that had always been strictly business. He glanced back and forth, trying to think of a casual topic.

 Terry, not sure what the bloodhound was doing, followed his gaze and spotted a map that sat surprisingly low on the wall. She had seen maps before, when Alicia had used them to keep track of where… she shook her head. ’Not going down that road again,’ she thought, pushing her deceased mate from her mind and focused on the map itself. This one wasn’t like the one Alicia had at home, which showed the Alaskan wilderness. This one was a jumble of lines and blocks which, after a moment, she recognized as Nome. “What’s that map for?” she asked.

 Rex frowned. “Well, ordinarily it might not be wise to tell you, but I suppose in this case it would be alright.” After a brief pause he added, “Especially because it concerns you.”

 Terry blinked in surprise. “It does?”

 He nodded. “In a way.” He stepped up to the map, and she followed. “You see, your recent… experience was not unique. In recent weeks several similar attacks have taken place. All were by strays in small groups, mostly in the evening-unlike yours-and the victims were always pets.”

 “How bad is it?” Terry asked.

 The bloodhound’s answer was grave. “The town vet has been very busy during that time,” he replied. “And… well, I don’t want to frighten you, but so have a few former pet-owners shovels.”

 She gasped. “You mean…?”

 He nodded. “Yes. But there’s one thing that throws the whole matter completely out of any sense of sanity.”

 “What’s that?” she asked. “Besides the obvious.”

 Rex answered her question with another. “Tell me, while you were living on the street, how many strays did you see?”

 She furrowed her brow. “Counting the ones that attacked me, only three.”

 “Exactly. Their numbers seem to be in decline, yet they are attacking more often and much more viciously.”

 “Any idea why?” she asked.

 He shook his head. “No. I’ve been using this map to keep track of the attacks, but so far I can’t find any pattern in times or places.”

 Terry stared at the map. “But there are no marks on it,” she pointed out. “How do you know where there were attacks?”

 “With my nose,” he answered with just a minute hint of pride in his tone. He gestured to a bowl on the floor, where there sat a few bits of uneaten food. “I always make sure to save some leftovers when the chief feeds me. Then, when something other than a standard open-and-shut case comes up, I use that food to leave a scent-marker on the place where it happened on this map.”

 “What about the order they’re in?” Terry inquired.

 “I have a good memory,” he replied. “It’s a trait common to us bloodhounds. We were bred to lead search parties, you see. And when my memory fails, I just see which markers are the freshest.”

 Terry nodded. “So where did the attacks happen?”

 “All over the place,” he replied. He lifted a paw and held it over the map. “The first was here about four weeks ago.” He moved his paw to another spot. “Then here, about three days later, there was another attack.” As he continued to recite the places of the various assaults, Terry was amazed at how readily he remembered them all. Moreover, she could see very quickly that Rex was right. There was no rhyme or reason to where or when the attacks would happen.

 Finally, Rex pointed to the spot where she had been attacked, then took his paw away. “That’s the location of the last attack,” he concluded. Turning his head toward Terry, he added, “I was hoping perhaps you might be able to shed some light on this. Do you know anything about the streets in question?”

 Terry shook her head. “No,” she replied. “That is, I know about them, but I don’t see any connection between them.”

 Rex frowned, turning down the corners of his already turned-down mouth. “I had hoped a local perspective might be useful,” he said softly.

 Terry dropped her head like a puppy being scolded for chewing on the couch. “I’m sorry.”

 “Oh, it’s not your fault. I should be the one apologizing.”

 “You?”

 “Yes. You came over here to get away from your problems, and now I’m asking you to solve mine.”

 Terry smiled. “At least you took my mind off of Yuke,” she replied.

 Rex smiled. “Well, I’m glad I could help then.” He returned his gaze to the map, and his face resumed its scowl. “Although I’d be happier if I knew what this all means.”

 Terry’s eyes flicked back and forth as if she were trying to watch a game of ping-pong without moving her head. “Maybe it’s some kind of disease,” she suggested. “Rabies, perhaps. If the street dogs are all getting rabies, then that would explain why they’re dying off.”

 “And it would account for the attacks too,” added Rex, “Except that none of the survivors have come down with rabies. And those dogs that attacked you certainly weren’t infected. I can smell rabies on a dog long before humans have a clue.”

 Terry eyed a bite mark on Rex’s shoulder. “Thank goodness,” she commented softly.

 Rex smiled. “I appreciate the concern, but I have a risky job. Don’t be wasting your worry on me.”

 Terry allowed her thoughts to drift for a moment before returning to the matter at hand. “So, if it’s not rabies, what is it?”

 “I don’t know,” the bloodhound replied as he stared at the map. “I just don’t know.”

 After staring at the map for a long moment, Terry was distracted by a sound from outside. She looked out and saw Alicia standing in the street, calling her name. “I guess I’d better go,” she excused herself.

 Rex nodded. “Come back anytime,” he offered, regretting the words even as they left his mouth. But like a thrown rock or an arrow from a bow, there was no bringing them back now.

 Terry nodded. “Thank you,” she smiled. It wasn’t a romantic kind of smile. It wasn’t even big, just a small smile of gratitude. But it started Rex worrying.

 ‘What have I done?’

…………………………………………………………………………

Terry found herself visiting Rex for the next several days and the two of them spent hours pouring over the map. They studied it from every possible angle- Terry even tried laying down on her back and staring at it upside-down while Rex went through the scenes of the attacks. “I heard about it somewhere, I think,” she explained when he gave her a puzzled look. But the endeavor only showed that the whole mess made no sense whatsoever, even with the town turned upside-down.

 “I don’t think there’s any point in trying to look for a pattern anyway,” Rex reasoned. “Street dogs are a disorganized group, so