1400 hours, 13 December, Nebraska
As I walked into the police department, my eyes swept up the walls to the omnipresent photographs of their fallen officers. These were the men and women who had died during the course of duty. The names slid by as I wondered about their families and friends, the people that would miss them every morning at breakfast or roll call.
Today I said a special prayer as I stood in front of Deputy Sheriff Louisa De La Garza's photo. She could have been me, and I her, I realized. I continued my walk along the corridors silently, with Scout heeling calmly by my side.
There was nothing worse than a poorly trained K-9 partner, I had decided long ago. All of my dogs were trained through a minimum of basic obedience skills, and I expected nothing less than perfection regardless of the dog's breed. It was a lame excuse from the weak to say that a Bloodhound couldn't do obedience work. They could and would, happily, if you gave them a reason to do so. I turned the last corner with Scout as we arrived at the Police Chief's office.
Chief Night-Eagle didn't raise his enormous mass from his comfortable desk chair as we entered the room. I had expected no more, so I wasn't disappointed. His already small office seemed almost claustrophobic with the number of people crammed inside of its walls. Scout automatically sat when I stopped just inside of the office's door.
I scanned the room and saw most of the same agents that I'd worked with in the past. I nodded to several of the ones that I remembered as Night-Eagle updated us on the case at hand.
"We were called last night with an anonymous tip regarding the location of the missing girls. Normally we ignore these anonymous tips, but this time the caller used enough details so that we knew they were probably correct." The Chief looked at Scout, not at me, as he continued, "You'll be working the field to the North of the last search scene. It's the one you wanted to look more closely at last time," he finished as I realized again that he would only talk to Scout, not me.
That was OK... there were many cops that wouldn't call out a female handler, or who didn't see the point in calling out a working K-9 to help them on a case. This guy would actually call for K-9 assistance, but refused to ever speak to female handlers. I wasn't picky so long as a dog was called. I decided to return the favor of the attention deficit.
Staring fixedly at the window just beyond Night-Eagle's head, I replied, "You're pretty sure this is the best area to search? Scout was actually wanting to work down towards that barn with the rotted hay stacked out front. The field she wanted to look at the first time was to the South, not the North. We'll search wherever you want us to, but Scout's getting a little tired of us not letting her work this case like she wants to work it." Night-Eagle looked to the right side of his head to see what I was staring at. Good. Let him wonder.
Staring at Scout, the Chief replied, "We just want this done. Work wherever you want but find those girls, got it?
"I told you," I replied, this time staring at the corner of his desk, "We don't make promises except to say that we'll try. You want a guarantee, you call another handler." With that comment said, I heeled Scout out of the cramped office and headed back for the door to the outside.
"Scout, I swear I am surrounded by idiots, " I said to her as we cleared the building.
Scout knew what I was talking about. She'd seen some real "Barney Fife's" on a case before. Scout farted in disgust, then wandered over to the front lawn of City Hall to take a healthy crap. Normally I pick up after my dog, but this department and I had a long history, most of which was unpleasant. They deserved every stinking pile that Scout could deliver as far as I was concerned. My only complaint was that she hadn't farted in the Chief's cramped office.
I gathered up her lead and wandered back toward the deputies as they emerged from the building.
"Do you want to start now or wait until tomorrow?" Corporal Halloran queried.
I looked to the partly cloudy skies while feeling the leash go slack in my hand as Scout ambled up to inspect the Corporal's crotch. Taking a deep sigh, I paused before I replied, "Let's start now. For some reason, I feel lucky this afternoon. There are a couple hours of light left."
"You got it. I'll bring the car around," Halloran replied before he walked off towards the back parking lot. I looked again to the skies for a sign that Someone was watching us. All I wanted was to find those girls and let their families bury them decently if that's what they needed. I hoped that this would be our chance to set their families at peace. Halloran pulled up in his marked white Ford Explorer as I brought my attention back from the skies. I opened the rear door so Scout could hop into the back seat, then I climbed into the front passenger seat and guided my long legs under and around the mounted shotguns attached to the dash.
After riding through the bland scenery for about 35 minutes, we entered the Choctaw Nation jurisdiction again. The Native Americans were given few areas to call their own in this country, and for them to allow us to work their territory again was considered an honor. We would need to re-new our commitment to the land before we could proceed farther, however. Halloran drove me to a small house located a few blocks off of the main road where he parked and honked his horn from the street.
The poorly fenced yard contained two chained dogs that I guessed to be American Pit Bull Terriers, one of my favorite breeds. As before, they were barking their heads off at our attempted trespass on their property. I knew what the owner used the dogs for, and while I didn't support dog fighting, I also understood the reasons this man chose to fight them. I made sure that I had some dog treats in my pocket as an older man alit from the front door.
"Chief White-Feather," Halloran politely spoke, "I brought the girl back with her dog to work on your land. Will you bless her once more for her endeavor?".
I hated to be referred to as "the girl", but also understood why Halloran referred to me as such- as a matter of deference for the old man's authority in his Nation. "She will come in, but this time she brings her dog. I will bless them both," he replied before heading towards the gate to open it up to our passage. I exited the Explorer and removed Scout from the rear seat. Scout watched the dogs barking towards her, but with a quiet, "Leave it" from me, she ignored them as we walked towards the crumbling concrete pathway on the other side of the gate.
I walked over to Chief White-Feather with Scout at my side. Lowering my head out of respect, I spoke to him. "Sir, thank you for allowing us the honor of entering your land. May I ask your kind blessings for my dog and myself as we try to find the missing girls?"
"You came before, but I never met your dog. I made a mistake to overlook her blessing. This is the dog who shall find the girls so I shall bless her as well." He said, seemingly ignorant of his dogs' increased displeasure at our presence. "You both come inside now and have some tea." With that, he turned to walk into the house again. I wondered at his choice of words which indicated his complete trust in Scout's abilities.
Halloran followed Scout and I into the home where we went to the floor to sit as directed by the chief. While spartan by some folks' standards, the small home was filled with the elements of this man's life. Crude drawings done by a young child were attached with fruit-shaped magnets to his refrigerator. While the furniture was worn, it was clean and clearly designed for formal company only.
The roaring fire in the fireplace would be our centerpiece for the afternoon's ceremony. A sage bundle was lit and we were fed a cup of weak, unsweetened tea. Normally, I like my tea to have enough strength and sweetener to require a spoon to consume it. My years in Japan had prepared me for this type of tea, however.
With our weak Rosemary tea consumed as directed, and my pores filled with the scent of sage, Scout and I received a blessing for the job that laid ahead of us. I was very respectful of anyone who invoked the power of the earth, water and stars to help guide us as we worked. Scout sat quietly and watched every movement of the Chief, instead of falling asleep which was her usual mode anytime she wasn't working. When he approached her, she laid down at his feet, something this dominant bitch would never do for just anyone. She completely submitted to this man, one whom she had never met before. I realized that she was taking in this prayer for success as seriously as I would if my Rabbi had pulled me aside for a special prayer.
After he had finished, Scout and I arose with Halloran and departed for the door. Halloran pressed several bills into the man's hand as we departed. I handed Scout's leash to Halloran and asked for permission to greet the Chief's dogs for what I hoped would be the final time. With a simple look towards his dogs, he calmed their barks before granting me the honor of taking conference with them. I approached them slowly and asked for their permission to approach with my head held high. I would never submit to be Beta to a stranger's dogs, but I would always show respect. As they were of a breed close to my heart, I quickly had them warmed up and eating all the treats that I could give from my pockets. Soon, they were both kissing my face and nibbling my hair in a mutual grooming session. With a heavy heart, I bid their scarred faces a fond farewell. Halloran met me at the Explorer. Once loaded up, we gave a final wave of farewell to Chief White-Feather before driving off towards the other side of town.
We drove quickly to the search area where I had Scout hop down from the truck to join me. I looked around at the landscape as Scout pottied to her heart's content. Like most of Nebraska, this area was relatively flat and devoid of interesting landscaping. I took a deep breath and still smelled sage, but couldn't be certain if I was still smelling the Chief's incense or the current surrounding fauna. Off in the far distance, working oil rigs and a barn could be seen. Farther out, on the horizon, stood a single windmill with a stock tank. Everything was miniaturized by the distance.
I placed Scout into her decomp/ cadaver collar- the one that she'd wear for her work to help her understand the difference in this job from mantrailing. I grabbed a protective vest from our trailing bag and shoved my neck and arms through its shoulder loops quickly before slapping the velcro straps around my chest to fasten it. Scout was already straining at the lead before I had a chance to prescent her on the material that I had picked up from my house. This was usually the precursor to a find I'd discovered through my years of working her.
She started easily as the wind was in our favor. With three deputies running behind us, I waited until we'd gone about fifty yards before hollering back to them to hold on, I was going to let her go. This meant that we'd need to be prepared to run behind her where necessary. Not every Bloodhound could work off-lead, but Scout was one of the few who could be trusted to respond to verbal commands. Given the terrain, I thought I could trust her not to get her lead tangled.
"This is it, get ready to run! Stay behind us at all times. If I can see you out of the corner of my eye, you're too close! If I can't see you, you're too far!" I yelled over my right shoulder.
Scout worked due South for the quarter of a mile or so before I saw her head sharply veer to the right. "Whatcha got, girl?" I whispered to her. She took off into the wind like her ass was on fire. Grateful that the Ibuprofin I'd downed earlier had taken effect on my aging joints, I easily ran behind her at a fast jog/ slow run, watching her body language carefully so I'd know when to ask her to work harder or to praise her for working the scent correctly.
The interesting thing about us normally working at such a high altitude all the time meant that I could run behind Scout at sea level almost indefinitely. I heard the weaker men falling behind us and yelled over my shoulder, "We haven't even run a mile! You better catch the Hell up or we're asking for some real men!" The faster thuds of their footsteps thudded behind us in response as we crossed the prairie towards the windmill and the barn. Prairie dogs raised their heads from their burrows as we approached, chirping their annoyance at our cross-country passage. As Scout guided me closer towards the barn, I slowed our pace by yelling to her "Easy!"
We didn't want to run into an ambush, so I grabbed her lead to help slow her down and work her at a better pace for this terrain. We had no cover and no dog to send ahead to clear a structure, so safety would have to come before speed in the drawing light of sunset.
In the fading light of the sun, we approached the barn first, still a quarter of a mile to the West. I was being generous in my classification of this "barn", I now realized. But for the Grace of God, the structure would have collapsed about eighty years ago. The number of boards had shrunken under the harsh Nebraska weather, some rotting, while losing others to high winds. While the upper hay loft might have been a sturdy floor at one time, it was now drawing the roof down with its cumbersome weight. The effect now was that the roof sagged in the middle and the walls seemed to lean inwards in an attempt to comfort the barn during its slowly painful demise. All of this I could see easily from my distance through the gaps between the board remnants, and with the assistance of the setting sun on the other side.
I ran faster to catch up closer to Scout's head and gathered up the slack in the leash at the same time. Once she was only about six feet ahead of me, I held that distance from her as we continued to work towards the barn. I looked over my shoulder for my back-up. These men were supposed to be watching out for me, yet after only 3 miles of easy jogging, they were almost an eighth of a mile behind us.
In disgust, I called out to Scout, "Wait," which she immediately responded to, although she looked unhappy about being made to halt her search.
I took a deep breath and counted to one-hundred to calm my ire before I turned to face the wheezing men as they slowly approached us. "Look," I calmly pointed out, "I smoked for years and never looked as pathetic as you guys do right now. Either keep up with us or call out some real men!"
I was furous! These men were so out of shape that there was no way they could have drawn a gun and fired accurately amidst their huffing and puffing.
"We're OK," the palest of the men replied, gasping for air between each word. All three were bent over at the waist, hands on their knees, trying to garnish some extra oxygen to help them stay on their feet.
This was never going to work, I realized. The sun was setting quickly and I needed men to watch my back who were alert and aware. "Get me Halloran and two other fresh men. Scout is hot right now and I'm not pulling her off this search for much longer.
"Whitey", my name for the speaker of the trio, spoke up faintly, "OK," before getting on the radio to call for replacement back-up men. He didn't sound angry or upset. In fact, he sounded grateful to be released from the Evil Dog Lady's clutches. I had broken lesser men than Whitey, so I held no grudges.
Within minutes, I could hear car engines approaching from the still light Western horizon. I looked back to the East and wished for another hour of sunlight, knowing that it was never to be. The temperature was dropping exponentially along with the fading sunlight. We could either work through the cold night, or we could go sleep in a chilly cabin and come back the next day. I looked at Scout and saw that she was too close to her quarry to pull her off now.
"Hey 'Deputy Dawg'," I called to Whitey, "Tell them to get me some hot coffee while you're at it. We're going to be here for a while," I concluded.
— Jess Sokoloff
Chapter 5 IS HERE!
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