“We don’t know.”
“Any indication the suspect is armed?”
“No, but what do you say we just assume he is.”
Darren was about to ask another question when the sergeant shouted, “Let’s get the dogs moving. Now.”
Hallett waited a moment while Rocky sniffed the ground where the soil had been disturbed and the old man said he thought he’d seen a scuffle. As was his unique custom, Rocky froze for one second as he picked up the scent. Just that momentary pause in the action thrilled Hallett because he knew they were about to do the job only they were trained for. Then the dog pulled him directly into the cane field, and Hallett lost sight of him just a few feet ahead. The heat brought out just enough perspiration to make his skin tacky, so tiny bits of the scratchy sugarcane stalks stuck to his bare forearms.
He knew Darren would be taking Brutus along the canal to the south and Claire would take Smarty into the next cane field. The other uniformed deputies fanned out behind each dog team, cutting lines into the fields. If one of the sheriff’s office helicopters had been available, the pilot would’ve seen a design like an ant farm as the search teams spread out, but the sergeant had said the nearest helicopter was at least forty-five minutes out due to a search for survivors of an airboat crash near the Arthur Marshall Wildlife Refuge at the entrance to the Everglades.
Now he had a moment to think about what he and Rocky might discover. Rocky was definitely onto something, which meant the old man was right about the scuffle. Dread seeped into his consciousness as he pictured finding a girl dead in the middle of the cane field. He had to block it out and focus on this task. His right hand reached back and touched the handle of his .40 caliber Glock on his gun belt. His lightweight combat boots protected his ankles from the rough base of the sugarcane stalks. The late September Florida heat was amplified by his ballistic vest and the effort it took to move through the sugarcane as his heart rate picked up from the physical activity and excitement of the chase.
Hallett was monitoring the radio, and he could hear detectives arriving on the scene and calling out. He’d been one of those detectives. It was a good assignment for the two and a half years he was in the D-bureau, but there was something about working with Rocky that brought him more satisfaction. He’d found missing kids with his new partner, tracked down a dozen robbery suspects, and was even occasionally asked to speak at schools. It made his job with the sheriff’s office more fulfilling. Even if his mom and ex-girlfriend completely disagreed with his career choice.
Rocky pulled him through a break in the cane and paused as he sniffed in each direction carefully for a few seconds. They had managed to lose the deputies behind them, and suddenly Hallett realized how alone they were. Rocky tugged him toward a drainage ditch with a few feet of skanky water at the bottom.
A Florida snapping turtle the size of a hubcap was sunning himself on the edge of the ditch. Rocky paid no attention to him at first, focusing on his task instead, but the turtle twisted his head and opened his mouth. These turtles, which filled the canals and lakes of Palm Beach County, were one of the more underrated risks to dogs. Maybe they weren’t as fast as an alligator, but they were just as aggressive and rarely backed down from a curious pet. Finally Rocky growled at the turtle, regarding it as a threat until it twisted and flopped into the water and disappeared under the murky film of the surface.
Now Rocky pulled him along the edge of the drainage ditch, and Hallett sensed they were getting closer. He used his left hand to hold Rocky’s lead and instinctively pulled his pistol. Hallett looked over his shoulder, but there was no one even close for backup. Picturing an injured girl who needed his help, he knew he couldn’t wait for the other deputies and started to trot as Rocky pulled harder and harder in the same direction.
Rocky froze again and emitted a low growl. From experience, Hallett knew something was about to happen. He crouched slightly and held his pistol up until Rocky pulled him into the next field of sugarcane, then through another drainage ditch. Hallett tried to jump over the shallow water, but his boots sank in the mud on the far side. It only took Rocky a moment to find the scent again, and he was off.
That sixth sense every good cop possessed told Hallett they were about to find something, but he had no idea what.
* * *
Rocky tried not to tug and pull Tim’s hand, because this was his favorite game in this place with the tall grass that he liked more than anything. The only way this could be better was if Tim just let him run free to find the man who had someone else with him. The bad man who had someone else with him. Those were the only people he and Tim ever chased.
Rocky felt that Tim held him back too much sometimes. Rocky knew the difference between good people and bad people, and he knew how to handle the bad people that Tim chased. All he had to do was bite them. Hard. They were bad people. He could sense just how bad some people were. It was so simple to him. There were good people and bad people. He knew he should bite the bad people, but Tim rarely let him follow his heart. Tim always pulled back on the lead or ordered him not to bite people.
It didn’t matter if Tim was wrong. Rocky still loved Tim. And someone had to watch out for him. Especially when he didn’t know how to deal with bad people.
Rocky stuck his nose to the ground again. There were two clear scents mixed together. One of them was fear, and the other was something he had never really smelled before. It was almost like a predator going after prey. It was the oddest odor he had ever sniffed, and it was making his brain tingle. He knew this was what Tim wanted him to find. And waiting while Tim and the other people communicated only made him want to chase whatever left the smell more.
Once in a while Tim would let him run free in this tall grass and he would chase rabbits or other swift creatures because it seemed natural to him. He liked running in front of Tim because it felt right to take the scent and not worry what was ahead in the tall grass. He could find anything.
Rocky didn’t really care what he was doing as long Tim was with him. He liked seeing his other friends who played with their own people. But nothing really compared to seeing Tim and Josh at the same time. The stimulation was too much, and he played until he just had to lie down. Those were the times when nothing else mattered. Not food, not water, and not sleep. Just Josh and Tim.
In the early morning, when Rocky was still asleep, he remembered being a puppy with his mother and three siblings. It was a special time with nice people that fed him and kids that named him Rocky. It was a different place than here. It was wet, swampy, and warm. It seemed like there were endless days where he would play and play until the day he saw Tim. A lot of people had been nice to him, especially after his mother had been killed. He had been lonely and lost after that evening when his mother tried to protect the other dogs from a predator who had come from the water. But the day Tim came, Rocky knew they were meant to be together. Somehow, when he saw Tim walking across the wide lawn, Rocky understood he had to protect him.
Tim and Josh made losing his mom a little easier.
Sometimes Rocky wished he understood more of how people communicated. Their grunts and growls held no clue, just certain sounds like his name and the names of others around him. Then there were the words Tim used in his games. Sometimes he wanted Rocky to find the bags with funny smells, sometimes he wanted him to run after people. Sometimes Rocky was supposed to bite people if they didn’t lie on the ground. And a few times, Rocky had to protect Tim. Usually Rocky sensed the danger long before Tim did. And if Tim would let him, Rocky could handle it before Tim was ever at risk.
But this game, where he would follow the scent while Tim hung on to him, this was one of the most fun games. Sometimes it didn’t seem like Tim had as much fun on these games. This was one of those times. Rocky tried to control how fast he ran, but excitement pushed him hard and Tim struggled to keep up. It had to be hard with only two legs.
Suddenly, Rocky could tell a difference in the scent trail. Something h
ad happened. At first the two scents were not together. They were close and crossed each other, but they were no longer tied to each other. It was confusing and made him stop for a moment. When he glanced back at Tim, he saw his friend holding the thing that made loud noises. It sounded like thunder and used to scare him, but they played so many games with the noise all around him that it no longer was frightening. At least not when Tim did it.
In the distance, he could hear the distinct bark of his other friends. One was on each side of him. He knew their people friends would be with them, too, all playing the same game, and all hoping to get their treat when they were done.
People did things that confused him all the time. They gave off a smell of fear, but still played games. Sometimes, they would shout at Tim, but he wouldn’t react and just stayed calm. Rocky didn’t smell Tim’s fear very often. But he could smell the fear of other people when Tim talked to them. It seemed like there were only a few people who ever made sense to him. Tim and little Josh were two of them.
Now Rocky had a scent and followed it down to a low, wet area. He followed so closely that he barely noticed the turtle that rolled off a log and plopped into the water. He tried to remember where this place was because he had to come back and explore that turtle more closely.
He sometimes was afraid of swampy areas. They reminded him of where he was born. He would think of his mother and what happened to her in a low, wet place just like this.
Then he heard Tim making the game sound. It wasn’t clear, like some of the sounds Rocky had learned, it was just an idea that Tim wanted him to find what they were looking for. Rocky moved along the wet ground.
Something was close.
2
Claire Perkins rarely needed to communicate verbally with Smarty. They had a connection unlike any other dog handler and canine. The brawny German Shepherd could easily have yanked her unmercifully across the rough ground. Smarty, at 110 pounds, only weighed five less than Claire, but he understood her limits just as she understood his. The connection was immediate, and it developed through training and their home life.
Two years ago, Smarty was raw, or, as the dog trainers would say, “green.” He was also high-energy, and when he was about thirteen months old, Smarty had wrecked Claire’s townhouse. Furniture was chewed, couch cushions shredded. It looked like a crime scene. The dog raised hell until Claire was forced to get tough. It was a learning experience for both of them. Claire pulled the old “alpha dog” maneuver by flipping Smarty onto his back, then going face-to-face with him to explain who was boss. It hadn’t taken long for Smarty to calm down and show some respect. It was a lot like raising a kid. Not like how Claire’s father had raised her, but more like how she intended to raise her own children once she started having them.
There was almost nothing she enjoyed more than playing with Smarty at home. He was the real constant in her life right now, and she was happy to have someone so fun-loving and reliable. Still, she needed to find a human counterpart. Maybe someone who understood the stress of police work and would tolerate another male in her life. Even if the male was American Kennel Club certified.
Once they got home, Claire would shower Smarty with all the affection he wanted, but in this man’s world of law enforcement, she didn’t think it was professional to be rubbing his head and planting kisses on him no matter how much she loved the dog. Tim Hallett was another story. He could get away with it because of his tall, muscular frame and rugged good looks. He was always hugging Rocky and talking to him like they were best buds. It just seemed natural to him. Then again, Tim was clueless on certain issues. He had no idea how the faded scar above his left eyebrow set off his blue eyes and probably attracted more attention from women than his uniform.
Even Darren Mori could show affection to Brutus because the dog was a Golden Retriever and everyone thought he was cute. She knew it burned Darren up that he got stuck with a cute Retriever while she had a badass-looking attack dog.
Claire had heard Brutus bark a couple of times in the distance as she and Smarty pushed through the sugarcane, with two large detectives struggling to keep up. The Golden Retriever had a tendency to shout out for joy at being involved in a job like this. Technically, Brutus was a cadaver and explosives dog, but he could follow a track, and their unit, the Canine Assist Team, had to be adaptable. The federal trainer, Ruben Vasquez, didn’t want them to decline any assignment.
She focused on Smarty, who was moving at a decent pace but hadn’t seemed to pick up any particular track. From what the sergeant had said, Claire knew the most important issue was finding the girl. The suspect was secondary.
Smarty suddenly picked up the scent of something and turned, waiting for Claire to make the turn with him instead of jerking her along. She thought they were probably about to come out of the cane and be facing another drainage ditch. It was easy to forget how vast and confusing these fields could be, especially the ones that bordered pine patches.
This was exactly why she had signed on to be a dog handler. If she didn’t have Smarty, too many other deputies would say something like “Leave the cute chick to watch the cars.” She didn’t have to put up with that shit in K-9.
Claire loved working in this specialized unit. They had all benefited from Tim Hallett’s example. The veteran cop, who had been on patrol as well as a respected detective, had taught her as much about life as he had about dogs. She wondered how Tim was faring as two large deputies tried to keep up with her and Smarty. Tim had said, “Never let the male cops know you care what they think of you or how you’re doing your job. Being snotty is better than being sorry.” Her favorite hobby was making men who underestimated her feel like assholes.
* * *
Junior tried to control his breathing as he realized he was disoriented and not sure exactly where his car was parked. Everywhere he looked was sugarcane. He’d run to a row of pine trees where he thought he’d left the car, then realize he’d gotten turned around while chasing the girl.
He heard a dog bark again in the distance. A few minutes earlier, he had heard the unmistakable sound of a voice over a radio. There were definitely cops in the area. He pulled the 9 mm Beretta hidden in his waistband. Experience had taught him it never hurt to have insurance when dealing with volatile young women like the ones he was interested in. But he’d never fired at a human being. He held the pistol up in his shaking hand and pointed it at the closest row of sugarcane, imagining what he would do if the cop burst out right in front of him. Satisfied he’d be able to pull the trigger, Junior yanked out a rag he kept in his pocket to wipe down the cars he stole, blotted the sweat out of his eyes, and worked up enough energy to start trotting toward the next line of trees, away from the sounds of his pursuers.
As he started to jog away, his side hurting from a cramp, Junior wondered if they had found the girl yet. His only hope was to get out of the area. Fast.
* * *
Tim Hallett read Rocky’s subtle moves and pauses. This same sort of behavior had befuddled him before Ruben Vasquez had taught the team the art of dog handling. The wily army vet had turned the process into a Zen-like exercise. Now Hallett felt he could communicate with his dog better than he ever communicated with his ex-girlfriend. Four-year-old Josh had picked up the talent without ever attending class.
Hallett knew Rocky was very close to a discovery. The muscular Malinois would pause, then shuttle forward, nose to the ground, then up in the air, searching for the exact track. This was definitely something. Hallett glanced over his shoulder, hoping there were other deputies close by, but he and Rocky were still alone. They scrambled through the thick cane field, and Rocky started to strain on the lead. Hallett pulled him closer, in case what was ahead was a suspect with a weapon. He still had his pistol in his hand.
Rocky burst out of the sugarcane into an open space. Hallett felt the slack in the lead as the dog came to an abrupt stop. A second later, Hallett fought through the last few stalks of sugarcane and froze next to Rock
y.
This was not what he had expected to find. Rocky, sensing the same delicate circumstance, immediately sat in place. The overheated dog started to pant loudly.
Hallett holstered his pistol.
Curled on the ground in front of him, quietly sobbing, was a teenage girl with long blond hair. Twigs and torn stalks of sugarcane were stuck on her shirt and in her hair. She tugged her knees tight into her chest and let her eyes move from Rocky up to Hallett.
He said in a soft voice, “It’s all right. You’re safe now.” He couldn’t keep from scanning the open area in the rows between the sugarcane stalks for any threat. He kneeled down, careful not to come too close and upset her more. “Which way did the man go?”
All the girl could do was shake her head and sob more intensely.
Hallett started to feel the familiar anger course through his body at the thought of someone abusing a sweet young girl like this. He didn’t think he was radiating his emotions until Rocky nuzzled up next to him in an obvious attempt to calm him down.
No matter what Rocky thought, Hallett knew somebody was going to pay for this shit.
* * *
Rocky turned toward the scent he smelled most clearly. It was fear. More than the scent, he could hear something ahead of him in the tall grass. It wasn’t a threat, and it didn’t sound dangerous to Tim. He pulled his friend in that direction and worked his way through the tall grass, but he slowed slightly.
As soon as his head poked through the grass into the open area, he saw a person sitting on the ground and making a sad noise. He had heard it before and knew that it didn’t represent a danger.
Rocky felt Tim pause behind him and glanced over his shoulder at his friend, who still had the loud thing in his hand. Then Tim made some soft noises directed at the person on the ground. That’s when Rocky knew for sure the person was no threat.
He eased forward, smelling the ground and trying not to upset the person sitting down. He realized it was a female and she had rolled herself into a ball. He placed his nose next to her and pushed, hoping she would rub his head or scratch under his mouth the way he liked. She didn’t respond, and Tim stepped forward and told Rocky to back away.
Scent of Murder Page 2