and tried to nail me with criminal charges. All the while I was explaining, Hunter had his eyes on the ground, flashing a beam of light from his own flashlight among the grave markers.
He looked cool and hot at the same time, something I never failed to notice no matter what the situation. Rugged,confident, lots of leather (I love leather—the smell, the look) when he rode his Harley—though tonight he wore jeans, a black T-shirt, and biker’s boots, having pulled up in his SUV instead since Ben, his four-legged companion, hadn’t perfected the art of riding on the back of a motorcycle. Although he
was
smart enough to learn.
The dog gazed at me with total self-confidence, just like his sexy partner.
Ben is a Belgian Malinois and is fully trained in everything he needs to perform police work—obedience, endurance, and agility. He’s a mean, lean fighting machine when he’s on the job. And a big cuddly teddy bear when he’s not. Ben is sensitive and devoted to his partner. Hunter and Ben can read each other’s reactions like any other cop partners who’ve been working side by side for a very long time.
Me? I never have a clue what passes between them.
Speaking of clues that might save my credibility, I had an important question. “Ben can track a missing person, right?” I asked. “Even if that person is dead?”
Hunter’s eyes cut from the ground to me. “If he has the tools to work with.”
“Like what kind of tools?” Patti said from the shadows. I’d almost forgotten she was with us, she blended so well into the background and had been totally quiet until now.
“A scent to go by, I bet,” Holly said, on the ball. “Something that belongs to that person.”
Hunter nodded.
Nuts, we were back to square one. I didn’t have a starting scent for Ben to work from.
“Are you sure of what you saw?” Holly said to me, and all my doubts about my sanity came rushing back.
“Absolutely,” I said. “I’m absolutely, positively sure.” A person has to appear firm on the outside, even if the inside is going to mush. Besides, if I wishy-washed, I’d look foolish and Hunter might not even try to help.
“We might be in luck,” Hunter said. “But only if this alleged person bled.”
I really didn’t like that “alleged” part. Hunter must have sensed my distress, because he looked at me and said, “I just mean that it’s only alleged until it’s confirmed. Cop talk.”
Did that make me feel better? Not really. The possibility of a permanent stain on my credibility record wasn’t pretty. “There goes crazy Story,” they’d say. “Making up stuff just like she used to.”
“No blood,” Patti announced. “I looked. Nothing dark resembling blood in the grass.”
“Let’s hear what Ben has to say,” Hunter said. His canine partner perked up his ears.
I’d gleaned from my association with Hunter and Ben that a tracking dog uses all its senses. I’ve watched them train together, so I know a thing or two. Ben’s eyes are at least as sharp as any human’s and his ears are way better. If Ben’s ears are erect and forward when he’s on a case, that means he heard something. If one ear is forward and one back, he’s heard things from more than one direction, which then alerts Hunter that he has more than one possible threat to deal with.
And because police work involves stealth, Ben has been trained not to bark or yelp or growl like a lot of dogs do when they sense danger or are afraid. He remains quiet unless Hunter gives him the okay to bark.
“Go ahead,” Hunter said quietly, and the big dog sitting next to him rose and went to work, starting next to the crabapple tree where I’d found the prone body.
A little while later, Hunter called him back. “Nothing,” he said. “There are too many other scents. It doesn’t help that the chief and ambulance attendants walked all over around here.”
Holly glanced at me. “Are you absolutely sure you saw a body on the ground?”
He looked cool and hot at the same time, something I never failed to notice no matter what the situation. Rugged,confident, lots of leather (I love leather—the smell, the look) when he rode his Harley—though tonight he wore jeans, a black T-shirt, and biker’s boots, having pulled up in his SUV instead since Ben, his four-legged companion, hadn’t perfected the art of riding on the back of a motorcycle. Although he
was
smart enough to learn.
The dog gazed at me with total self-confidence, just like his sexy partner.
Ben is a Belgian Malinois and is fully trained in everything he needs to perform police work—obedience, endurance, and agility. He’s a mean, lean fighting machine when he’s on the job. And a big cuddly teddy bear when he’s not. Ben is sensitive and devoted to his partner. Hunter and Ben can read each other’s reactions like any other cop partners who’ve been working side by side for a very long time.
Me? I never have a clue what passes between them.
Speaking of clues that might save my credibility, I had an important question. “Ben can track a missing person, right?” I asked. “Even if that person is dead?”
Hunter’s eyes cut from the ground to me. “If he has the tools to work with.”
“Like what kind of tools?” Patti said from the shadows. I’d almost forgotten she was with us, she blended so well into the background and had been totally quiet until now.
“A scent to go by, I bet,” Holly said, on the ball. “Something that belongs to that person.”
Hunter nodded.
Nuts, we were back to square one. I didn’t have a starting scent for Ben to work from.
“Are you sure of what you saw?” Holly said to me, and all my doubts about my sanity came rushing back.
“Absolutely,” I said. “I’m absolutely, positively sure.” A person has to appear firm on the outside, even if the inside is going to mush. Besides, if I wishy-washed, I’d look foolish and Hunter might not even try to help.
“We might be in luck,” Hunter said. “But only if this alleged person bled.”
I really didn’t like that “alleged” part. Hunter must have sensed my distress, because he looked at me and said, “I just mean that it’s only alleged until it’s confirmed. Cop talk.”
Did that make me feel better? Not really. The possibility of a permanent stain on my credibility record wasn’t pretty. “There goes crazy Story,” they’d say. “Making up stuff just like she used to.”
“No blood,” Patti announced. “I looked. Nothing dark resembling blood in the grass.”
“Let’s hear what Ben has to say,” Hunter said. His canine partner perked up his ears.
I’d gleaned from my association with Hunter and Ben that a tracking dog uses all its senses. I’ve watched them train together, so I know a thing or two. Ben’s eyes are at least as sharp as any human’s and his ears are way better. If Ben’s ears are erect and forward when he’s on a case, that means he heard something. If one ear is forward and one back, he’s heard things from more than one direction, which then alerts Hunter that he has more than one possible threat to deal with.
And because police work involves stealth, Ben has been trained not to bark or yelp or growl like a lot of dogs do when they sense danger or are afraid. He remains quiet unless Hunter gives him the okay to bark.
“Go ahead,” Hunter said quietly, and the big dog sitting next to him rose and went to work, starting next to the crabapple tree where I’d found the prone body.
A little while later, Hunter called him back. “Nothing,” he said. “There are too many other scents. It doesn’t help that the chief and ambulance attendants walked all over around here.”
Holly glanced at me. “Are you absolutely sure you saw a body on the ground?”
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