NOSES AND BONESES
By Jess the Dog
Lady
DO NOT REPRODUCE THIS BEFORE ASKING
ME!!!
CHAPTER FIVE
Scout was eager to get back to
work, and once fortified with a thermos cup filled with nasty coffee, I was also ready to proceed.
My breath turned into cooled vapors in the air as I exhaled and refastened my trailing belt. Scout
lunged against her collar in the direction of the barn, so I informed the men that we were heading
that way.
"I've got your six," I heard a soft female voice speak into my right ear.
I whipped my head around in shock to check out this new back-up cop. With dark hair and what
appeared to be brown eyes smouldering in the moonlight, she was pretty in a non-descript type of
way. About two inches shorter than me, she must've seen that she was going to be excused from
my company shortly.
"I can run a mile in less than six minutes and also have the top qualifying scores on the range. I
carry a .357 with 4 speed loaders and a .40 cal. auto. I worked SWAT for Houston P.D. and can
keep up. Don't worry 'bout me! " She uttered quickly into my right ear.
I looked at this woman and figured that based upon the rapid fire speed of her words, she had
probably been practicing this speech ever since she heard she was going to be my back-up. I knew
how hard it was to get into a SWAT/ ERT unit, and also realized this woman was stuck in a
po-dunk town and would never get ahead without this case. I was also willing to give a woman a
chance over the boys when I saw the opportunity.
"Do you see that we’re headed for a structure that hasn’t been cleared?” I hissed at her. She just
looked at me, trying to figure out how best to answer me without pissing me off. “Well, get
out your gun,” I admonished her. This wasn’t a SWAT exercise where some instructor would
be walking her through every step of the way. She needed to be prepared, and a gun strapped in
her holster with the safety on was just as bad as not carrying a gun at all.
“We're clearing the barn before we go any further. You keep breathing and watch where you fire.
Stay still until you see my signal. Shoot my dog and I shoot you. It's real simple. Scout goes in
first, got it?" I responded in a harsh whisper to her.
"Got it. I have right flank," she whispered back at me before heading off in a crouched run for the
right side of the barn's entrance. Good, she was carrying her gun in the high-ready
position.
I watched her race across the prairie as the winds began to pick up their tempo. My breath was
making white puffs in the moonlight so I raised my face mask to try and affect some disguise
against the night's chill. With only a sageweed to conceal me from the barn, I gave Scout her
command.
"Trovolo!" I whispered to Scout as she was released from her lead completely. While some
people trained their dogs in other languages, few mixed seven or more languages to train their dog.
Most stuck with either English or German commands which is why their dogs were easily called
off by criminals. I was again grateful that Scout was suited for off-lead work and had learned a basic level of patrol dog techniques. She wasn't as good as another breed might be for this job, but she'd work in a pinch if I asked her to.
I raced behind Scout as she headed for the barn. As she entered the barn, I was mere seconds
behind her. I hopped to the left of the opening, my .357 also raised in the high-ready position. I
looked at the female deputy and wished I'd bothered to get her name. With a nod from me, she
and I both ducked inside the structure and waited for Scout to return to my side. In the meantime,
we strained our eyes in the gloom and tried to pick out figures in the decrepit hayloft’s shadows.
Without using flashlights, we were almost blind and dependent on Scout to cover our asses. A
rancid odor engulfed our noses there in the chilly barn.
After what seemed like hours, Scout came trotting back to me but continued to look over her
shoulder. I quickly reattached her lead and motioned for the woman across from me to call in and
order the rest of the men forward with us.
"Thanks for not screwing up. What's your name?" I asked her in a whisper.
"Marie de la Garza," she quietly replied.
"de la Garza," I paused thoughtfully, staring at what little I could see of her face. "I know that name. It's on the memorial wall back at the SO. Is she any relation to you?" I asked her.
"That was my aunt." She replied tersely.
"OK, 'Garbanzo'--- You stay with me. If it looks like it needs killin', kill it. Any questions?" I
queried as the strong odor continued to hit my nostrils.
'Garbanzo', my back-up's new name, merely nodded and watched me leash my dog back up. "It stinks in
here, think?" She queried.
"Yeah-- smells like dead something," I replied as I peered into the gloom. "You have a flashlight
or a head lamp?" I queried.
"Yeah, both. Here's the headlamp-- you'll need it more that I will," She replied.
Although I had my own light, I took the offered head lamp and held it in my left hand away from my body before turning it on. I might need to work for a long time tonight, and having this extra light would save me from having to stop and change out batteries in my own flashlight. A small circle illuminated the dirt floor in front of us. I could have put the lamp on my head, but experience had taught me that that was a fast way to end up a well-illuminated target for a head shot. Once I got into the open I might feel more secure in wearing it as it was intended, but this barn gave me the creeps. I kept it folded up as I started Scout.
"Carmen," I ordered Scout and she went back to searching for the scent of decomposing flesh.
While some people used "Bones" or "Body" as their commands, I chose to use something that a
grieving family would never be offended by should they overhear me start my dog. It was a way of giving them one last hope, even if only for a little while, that their loved ones might come home to them alive.
Scout immediately raced for two fifty-gallon drums located near the far entrance and sat. This was
her normal indication, so I had Garbanzo call in to have the rest of the team search it and mark it
for evidence. The odor of decomposition was almost overwhelming, even in the cold temperature
of the barn. I wasn't going to look in the drums as I
figured that once they opened the lids on them, I was going to heave my guts if I stuck around.
When you see those coroners and pathologists doing autopsies on t.v. shows, they make it seem
so sterile, as if the human body smells like daisies after it has been abandoned by its life force. The
truth of the matter is that humans begin to decompose immediately after death. The rate of that
decomposition is controlled by several factors, but one fact remains--- without oxygen, human
tissues begin to die.
I’d pulled a bullet out of my own leg in Guam in 1994, and buried a favorite patrol dog killed in Korea. I felt no discomfort when it came to seeing dead creatures or the insides of them before they passed on to the next realm; the stench of rotting flesh would bring me to my knees, however. Without a wad of ‘Vick’s Vapor Rub’ up each nostril, we were getting the Hell
out of there before I made a fool of myself.
"Scout indicated on those drums. Someone want to check them out?" I asked over my shoulder as the Sheriff's Deputies arrived. Scout was given a command to resume working and we headed for clearer air. De La Garza’s curiosity must’ve been piqued to see what
was in those drums. I could hear her vomiting behind me.
Thudding footsteps came up behind us as we continued across the prairie. “We found them.
Looks like two girls, one in each drum, or at least what’s left of them- they're pretty liquified and mostly frozen now. I guess we’re done. You guys
can call it quits.” Halloran informed me.
"I hate to tell you this, but Scout says there’s more to this case." I replied over my shoulder. "I’m not pulling her off the trail again. The night is young, and in case you’ve forgotten, there are three girls missing that we know of. You have two. Scout wants to keep working. Have someone call the FBI and let them know. You tell no one else, understood?”
Halloran reached dispatch over a scrambled channel and relayed the message in code, but his
efforts were pointless. I could hear the others calling over an unscrambled channel that the girls
had been found. Within ten minutes, my satellite phone began to buzz silently at my waist as Scout and I jogged steadily across the prairie.
“Dog Lady here,” I said into the phone. My answering service knew not to put through calls on that line when I was working unless it was a true emergency.
“Is this your secure line?” The caller asked me.
“Ayup. Satellite line on scramble. Robert, is that you?” I responded, unsure of the caller’s identity as the winds were picking up around me as I ran.
“Lady, what in the Hell is going on out there? I see your name plastered on a bunch of dog
related e-mail lists. This chick is saying your name, where you’re from, how you’re working the
case, which dog you’re using, et cetera!” Robert, my old buddy from the FBI’s explosive training
center in Georgia quickly blasted me. “Your security is compromised!”
“What?” I screamed into the phone as I jogged behind Scout. The glow from my light jaggedly bounced off of cactus and rolling sagebrush bundles with every step I ran.
“Your name! It’s on the internet! This gal is claiming to be your trailing partner--- says she’s run
back-up to you with her patrol dog in the past! She’s announcing to these lists how you are
working the case, the direction you’re headed, everything! She says Scout found the girls. What
in the Hell is going on out there?” Robert screamed back at me.
I looked at Halloran and yelled at him, “Institute complete radio blackout now! Not another damned word
goes out about what we’re doing here or I put a bullet into the next loudmouth’s head. Use those
exact words over the radio now! DO IT!” I began to slow my pace behind Scout. I
couldn’t run efficiently when I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach.
Halloran quickly used a multi-channel frequency on his radio to contact all the members of the search party and the Sheriff’s Department. I had to give him credit, he did use my exact words and didn’t hesitate or ask me stupid questions.
“Robert, find her. Shut her up now! Get my family to a safe house immediately! Jesus, I can’t
believe this is happening! Scout, WAIT!” I finally screamed when I realized that I couldn’t
continue without oxygen. Some ‘wanna-be’ dog handler was trying to make a name for herself by
throwing my name around, and she was too stupid to realize that she’d just put many people at
risk. Scout came up to me panting in the chilly air and I collapsed to the ground beside her. I
lowered my voice to a whisper, which is what usually happened when I was feeling utter rage. My
arm went around Scout’s shoulders, more for my comfort than hers.
“Robert, you have someone get on that internet right now using her e-mail address and inform
everyone that she made a mistake. You know how to handle this. Then I want her ass waiting for
me when I get done with this search, you got me?”
His unhappy voice sounded muffled through clamped fingers held over the mouthpiece of his
phone. A long pause was followed by the first good news of this phone call. “The boys are already
on it and have her identity confirmed through her ISP. They’re headed for her house now and
have begun composing the corrective e-mail you requested. A car has been dispatched to
your parents’ house to get your family.” he informed me.
While few people knew my real identity, it was getting harder and harder to hide it. I had certain
features of my appearance that were impossible to disguise and it was only a matter of time
before my cover was blown. While I always knew it wouldn’t last forever, this moron wasn’t
helping me stay in business as long as I’d wished. The sweat on my body began to cool rapidly under the bone-chilling winds. I absent-mindedly petted Scout’s neck. The waning moon’s form was obscured by clouds as the
first snowflakes began to fall around us.
“Halloran, you and I don’t move from this spot until I say so. We might as well have a gun pointed at our heads,” I informed him wearily. “Someone screwed up.”