by Reyna Favis
Police directed us to go to a post office parking lot. It had been selected as the staging area because of the parking capacity and the proximity to the family home. After squeezing our vehicles into the lot, Steve and I went to sign in. While Steve checked the box indicating he handled an air scent dog, I identified myself as a land searcher on the sheet. We returned to wait near our cars for Incident Command to call the searchers for a briefing. Steve took the opportunity to check the weather forecast on his phone and I just sat hunched on my car bumper, trying to conserve my strength. The evening was already cool and with the overcast sky, it was no surprise that the forecast predicted light rain with temperatures dipping into the forties overnight. The kid would be hypothermic if we found him. Forcing myself to get up, I reorganized my pack with shaking hands and put the space blanket in a quick access outer pocket and then dug out my rain gear and chest harness from the pile of equipment in my trunk. As I put the gear on, Steve handed me one of his protein bars and I took it gratefully. Under normal circumstances after a full day of training, I would be low on calories and a little hungry. After dealing with the dead boy and the others before him, I devoured the protein bar like my life depended on it. After a few minutes, the sugar kicked in. My heart still beat a little irregularly, but at least the cramping in my limbs was receding. My bruised knees were starting to swell and sang with discomfort when I walked, but I would have to suck it up. It was going to be a long night.
“Come on over to the trailer for the briefing,” a woman called out. I grabbed my rock helmet, figuring I’d need the attached headlamp as the night deepened. Groaning, I heaved the pack to my shoulder for the umpteenth time that day and headed with Steve towards the trailer. When a crowd of people dressed in high visibility orange crowded forward with us, I did a quick check of the searchers, but saw no sign of The Bastard. We waited for the briefing to begin and I pulled out a small pad and pen from my chest harness, watching as the pile of photocopies made its way to me through the crowd. Grabbing two sheets from the stack, the first page was a map of the neighborhood and the second showed a picture of the missing boy, along with a short description.
A burly older man with gray hair came out of the trailer and quickly assessed the headcount of searchers. “Listen up!” he barked. “My name is Fiske. Our subject is a four-year-old Caucasian male. His name is Denny, and he is autistic and non-verbal. He has brown hair and blue eyes and is wearing a red and white striped shirt, jeans and sneakers.”
I looked at the picture of Denny on the photocopy. He was a skinny kid with big blue eyes that slanted upward like a cat. In the picture, he was grinning big time at the camera, showing off his dimples. He looked like a kid who thought fun was priority one.
“Denny was last seen playing in his room around 16:00. The mother thinks he left the house and may be wandering around the neighborhood. He’s snuck out before. Police have searched the house and the surrounding neighborhood. A reverse 911 has gone out to the community, so folks here know to check their properties for the boy. Denny loves dogs, so I want all the canine handlers out on task first. Trailing dogs will work the scene and establish direction of travel. Air scent dogs should go on lead with their handlers to the perimeter set up by the police to see if we can draw him out. Make your dogs bark if you can. Any questions?”
Someone asked if the boy was on any medications. Another person asked what he did previously when he went missing from the home. Fiske answered that, according to the mother, Denny was taking Risperdal, and the times when he disappeared previously, he was found hiding in the neighbors’ yards. The family and the police had already searched all the usual places, but did not find him.
“If there are no more questions, Kate here will start assigning your tasks.” With that, Fiske returned to the trailer and a woman carrying a clipboard came forward and began calling names. Steve and I stayed near the trailer and waited with the rest. Eventually, another man appeared with a clipboard and also began calling names. Teams of three and four were being sent out in rapid fire.
“Cam Ramsay, Bill Fry and Fia Saunders!” At the mention of my name, I grabbed my gear, told Steve that I’d see him later and moved forward to find out about my task. A middle aged man with a balding pate also stepped forward.
“I’m Fia,” I told the woman with the clipboard.
“Bill Fry.” The balding man identified himself for Kate and then extended his hand to me.
Kate scanned the crowd. “Okay, good. Now, if we can just find Cam.” Raising her voice, she called out for him. “Cam! Cam Ramsay! Would you please come to the front?”
A voice responded from the edge of the crowd. “Coming! I’m coming.” I turned to look and got a clear view of The Bastard making his way forward. He carried a dog harness, a pack and something that looked like a small toolbox. In tow was the red dog, attached to a long, coiled lead that kept her close to her handler.
“I’m Bill. Glad to meet you,” the balding man said as he offered his hand to The Bastard.
“A pleasure. I’m Cam and this is Zackie,” he said, indicating the dog. Turning to me, he asked, “And you are?” He raised his hand half way for the handshake and then looked into my face. His lip curled back in a look of disgust and he lowered his hand. “Nevermind. I believe we’ve met.”
Before I could respond in kind, Kate called us to attention. “Thank you all for coming to help. You are Task 7. We need you to go to Denny’s house where Cam and Zackie should try to establish direction of travel. Bill and Fia, you need to flank Cam. Officer Reynolds is over there on the sidewalk. He will be the police escort in case you need to enter the yards of any residents.”
She handed us the paper with the task assignment and began calling names for the next task. As we approached Officer Reynolds, I spoke in a low voice to Cam. “When this is over, I need you to tell me how you make them go away. You and I need to talk.”
His lip curled again and he responded in a voice just above a whisper. “No, go away.”
“Asshole!” I whispered back. “You left me blinded and off-trail in the middle of the woods. The least you could do is provide an explanation!” I tried to look him in the eye, but he was steadfastly looking forward and ignoring me as he walked. “You can get rid of those things,” I hissed. “I need to know how you do that!” That stopped him in his tracks, and he turned to look at me. His face was flushed and his eyes were wide with fury.
“Those ‘things’ are --” he began with a low, shaking voice just as Officer Reynolds spoke up. Clamping his lips into a white line, he held his peace as the officer greeted us.
“Thanks for coming out to help. I’m Officer Reynolds.” He shook our hands and we introduced ourselves. “The house is over this way.” Taking the lead, he guided us down the block to a small ranch style house with white siding. Cam’s mouth was a grim, angry line and he took several deep breaths, struggling to master his anger as we walked. A police cruiser with the emergency lights flashing was parked outside of the house and other officers stood in the front yard.
Taking another deep, calming breath, Cam approached Officer Reynolds. “I’m afraid I’ll need to go into the house to collect a scent article for Zackie.” He held up the small toolbox labeled with the words ‘Scent Kit’ as if in explanation. After placing his pack and the dog harness on the ground, he handed Zackie’s lead to Bill, deliberately ignoring me. Officer Reynolds then led him to the house and knocked on the door. A short while later, both men emerged. Cam carried a clear ziplock bag containing something made of blue fabric.
“Here’s how this is going to work.” Cam looked each of us in the eye and began his instructions. “I’m going to take Zackie to meet everyone standing in front of the house. I want her to take their scent, so she can rule them out. She’ll also take a whiff of each of you. I’m then going to walk her in an acclimation circle to let her take in all the scents in the immediate area. She’ll then get the bagged t-shirt and the command to take scent. The next command wil
l tell her to get on trail.” He paused to give us a chance for questions and then continued. “Zackie will be point. All of you stay behind the dog and to either side. Keep your eyes out for any clues the subject may have dropped or any signs that the subject has been through the area. I will have my entire attention focused on Zackie, so you will need to warn me if a car is coming or if there is a loose dog. Are we ready?”
We all nodded and he began walking Zackie from person to person. The dog quickly passed each person as they offered their hands for the dog to sniff. I stood still with my hands extended as the dog took my scent. Rather than move on to the next person, she paused and stared directly into my face. Her eyes were the color of whiskey and surrounded by dark fur, as if someone had outlined them with kohl to emphasize their distinct color. While I thought her gaze would be gentle like all the other dogs I have encountered, I instead saw a disturbing intelligence that I was not prepared for. Without thinking, I took an immediate step back and away from her. Cold shocked me and I shivered involuntarily. The acid rushed to my anxious stomach and my shoulders rose defensively around my neck. She gave a quick snort and dismissed me, walking on. Taking a shaky breath and trying to relax, I felt a crazy mix of emotions. Most of all, I felt shame. Tears welled up in my eyes and I ducked my head, trying to control myself before anyone noticed.
By the time I looked back up, Cam had thrown down the scent article with harness on top. He caught my eye and looked at me grimly for a moment, but then focused his attention back to Zackie, talking to her in an excited voice. Cam led her in a large circle around the house and allowed the dog to sniff at whatever enticed her. Once back to the harness, he oriented her head towards the front steps of the house and, grasping her hind end between his knees, he quickly slipped the harness over her head. Cam momentarily opened the bag and passed it near the dog’s face, all while talking to her. She began squirming and whimpering, eager to be off. I could not reconcile the dog I saw before me now with what I had just experienced. With a final click of the snap buckle, he secured the harness and shifted the anchor of the lead from her choke collar to a ring on the back of the harness. Lifting the bag again, he let her stick her nose into the bag to inspect the T-shirt. “Track,” he told her. She lifted her head and pointed her nose behind them. As he loosened his knees from the hold on her flanks, he told her, “Find ‘em.”
The dog lunged towards the sidewalk, placed her nose to the ground and began walking rapidly away from the house. Bill reported our status by radio to command. “Task 7 has departed, heading east on Locust Avenue,”
I grabbed the GPS from my chest harness and cleared the old tracks as I stepped off. Following the others, I hung back as far as I could and nursed the extreme discomfort I now had from being near this dog. It’s not like I thought she was going to do something as mundane as bite me. She was not a large dog after all, maybe fifty or sixty pounds at best. The team dogs I had worked with were mostly around hundred pounds or more, incredibly strong and really driven. Zackie, by contrast, appeared to have a calm demeanor. I do not know what I feared, but I felt unsafe, as if the earth could suddenly open up and swallow me whole. I frequently feel uneasy in my life, but stark fear is something I left behind in childhood. I hated feeling this weak and defenseless. Had it not been for the missing kid, I would have turned around and put a lot of miles between me and that dog.
While Cam methodically let the long lead play out and then reeled it back in to match the dog’s pace as she worked the scent, Bill, Officer Reynolds and I checked bushes and shrubs along the route. Calling Denny’s name every few minutes, we strained our ears and eyes for any sign of a little boy. All we heard was the occasional faint bark of the air scent dogs in the distance. Providing occasional words of explanation to concerned homeowners, Officer Reynolds smoothed the way as Zackie weaved in and out of neighborhood yards following the scent. With the ambient light dimming, one by one, each of us turned on either a flashlight or a headlamp. The chill in the air became more pronounced and a light drizzle danced on my face. After about a half mile, my knees were starting to feel a little swollen and stiff and I wished I had taken some ibuprofen before we started the task. Just as I was about to abuse my knees some more by getting down to check yet another clump of bushes in front of yet another house, I saw the dog’s head suddenly snap towards the house. Zackie stopped walking and stared intently into the darkness surrounding the house. We all followed suit and studied the house and front yard for any movement. No lights were on either outside or inside. It was unlikely anyone was home. Zackie began moving into the yard at a brisk trot. As if we were all attached to the same lead, we fell into step behind her and began calling Denny’s name more urgently. As we entered the backyard of the house, my headlamp shone on a children’s playground set. It had swings and one of those slides that had a little fort built around the top of it. Zackie scrambled to the playground set and pounded on the ladder leading up to the fort with her front paws.
Cam looked up at the fort. “He’s up there, I’m sure of it.” Being the lightest and smallest of the searchers, I immediately started climbing up the ladder, calling Denny’s name. Squeezing myself through the opening of the small fort, I could see a little boy in a red and white striped shirt sitting in a corner and shivering. He paid no attention to me as I clambered forward, slipping my pack off to grab the space blanket.
“Denny’s here!” I cried. “He looks okay, just really cold.” I could hear Bill repeating this information into his radio and Cam praising Zackie. I flipped my headlamp to the red setting, so as not to blind Denny and crept forward. “Hi, Denny. How are you doing, little guy? I’m going to get you out of here, okay?” Wrapping the boy in the space blanket, I tried to gently pull him towards me and the opening. He was cold to the touch and damp from the rain, and as I tried to move him, he began crying and kicking. “C’mon, dude. You’ll be warm and dry real soon if you just let me move you.” Backing off, I called to the searchers outside. “He is not happy about being moved. You’re going to have to give us a minute.” As long I didn’t try to move Denny towards the opening to the fort, he was all right with me coming closer to him. Eventually, I was able to sit next to him and put my arm around him. There was still no kicking and screaming, so I moved in closer and removed the wet shirt. He was freezing. I opened up my jacket and wrapped my arms around him, trying to give him some of my body heat. We sat that way for a little while and he seemed to settle in, generally ignoring me now. I lifted him and made a move towards the opening while he held this mood.
As we got to the top of the ladder, Officer Reynolds positioned himself below and reached up to take the boy. I handed Denny off, wrapped in the space blanket and then grabbed my pack before descending the ladder myself. I felt almost giddy with relief that we found him, but I was now close to shivering myself.
“Are you sure he’s okay? He’s not really responsive. Is that the autism?” Bill asked quietly as he took my pack to ease my climb down.
“It might be autism or it might be a side effect from taking the Risperdal.” I grimaced, betraying the unease I felt at the mention of the drug. This reaction was not lost on Cam, who now studied me through narrowed eyes as I stood there and shivered. Determined to distract him from my real source of discomfort, I deliberately rubbed my arms. “I’ll warm up now that I don’t have to sit still.” Zipping up my jacket, I began walking in small circles.
“Bring the dog here.” Officer Reynolds motioned for the dog as he checked the boy over. “Maybe Denny could use some distraction while we wait for the ambulance.” Zackie was now naked of harness with the lead clipped to her choke collar. With a word from Cam, she ambled over to the sitting child. I took a step forward to stop this, but Cam grabbed my arm and shook his head. As I was about to yank my arm back and run to the boy, the dog snuffled Denny’s face, causing the boy to erupt in giggles. The men smiled to see Denny’s reaction, but I could feel the blood drain from my face and I kept my guard up, still not tru
sting the situation. In a little while, with another word from Cam, the dog was lying next to the boy, keeping him warm as Denny ruffled her fur. Zackie’s face unexpectedly reflected both stoicism and tolerance of the situation. This was definitely not the look of ecstasy that some dogs display when kids pet them. We offered Denny food and water, but he was uninterested in anything but the dog. While everyone else was focused on the dog and boy, I could sense Cam was dissecting me in some way. Just as I thought I would start squirming from this scrutiny, a police car carrying Denny’s parents and an ambulance pulled up in front of the house. The EMTs checked Denny over again and then wrapped him in an additional blanket. After reassuring the parents, they then loaded the family into the back of the ambulance for the short trip to the hospital.
“Good job, folks!” Officer Reynolds was all smiles. “Can we give you a lift back to the post office?” It would have been a tight squeeze for all of us and a dog in the back of the police cruiser, so we declined and began the walk back. On the way, Bill ran into some of his teammates as they returned from their assigned tasks. Chatting amiably, the group inched in front of us as they congratulated Bill on helping to make the find. I trudged along next to Cam and Zackie.
Cam caught my eye and then tilted his head toward Zackie. “I don’t think my dog much likes you.”
I pursed my lips and replied, “I think the feeling is mutual.”
“You are not inherently cruel to children.” He zipped up his coat as he walked. “You did all right with that young lad just now.”