“Yes.”
“You texted your boss you’d be late at 8:16.”
“Yes.”
“Why were you late?”
I looked down at Ranger.
“My dog wouldn’t let me leave.”
Keller did not smile.
He just nodded slowly and asked, “Has your dog ever been trained for scent detection?”
That made me look up.
“Not by me.”
“His rescue paperwork says he came from a retired police K-9 handler.”
I blinked.
“I never thought—”
Keller leaned back slightly. “The gas used in that room had trace sulfur compounds added during transport safety prep. It’s possible your dog smelled contamination on your work bag or jacket from a prior exposure near the device yesterday.”
Yesterday.
I remembered then.
I had helped the vendor unload cases in the parking garage because facilities was understaffed. Ranger had sniffed my bag aggressively when I got home that night and wouldn’t stop pacing the front hallway. I thought he was reacting to rain.
He wasn’t.
Keller asked, “Who knew you’d be in that meeting?”
Too many people.
Richard.
Angela.
The vendor team.
Facilities.
And one other person.
I felt my throat tighten.
“My ex.”
Keller’s eyes sharpened.
His name was Mark Delaney. Former operations manager. Fired eight months earlier after I helped uncover contract fraud and forged safety certifications tied to one of his “approved” suppliers. He blamed me publicly, threatened me privately, and once hissed in the parking garage, “One day you’re going to walk into a room and wish you’d kept your mouth shut.”
I told Keller everything.
He stood to leave, glanced once more at Ranger, and said, “Your dog may have just saved your life.”
By evening, they found Mark.
