NOSES AND BONESES
By Jess the Dog
Lady
DO NOT REPRODUCE THIS BEFORE ASKING
ME!!!
CHAPTER SIX
George hopped from the descending helicopter with his two team mates. The ramshackle trailer
was in sight, just through the milo field. Nicky and Mark followed him quickly, all three crouched
under the turning rotors. Lights began to come on inside the trailer as the three men took up their
positions. Mark and Nicky, polar opposites when it came to appearances, took the rear of the
trailer quickly, while George positioned himself by the rickety front steps of the trailer. The front
door opened just as George got into position, so he triggered the signal to let the other men know
to come around to the front. He waited until the subject made her way down the three metal
steps, then quietly snuck up behind her to place his gun’s muzzle against the back of her
skull.
“Move or make a sound and I’ll drop you right now. No one will ever know what happened.
Walk calmly towards the helicopter,” George informed her as the other men took their positions
behind him. They already knew she lived alone, but watched their surroundings carefully just in
case she’d brought home another man from the local bar. It was their job to scare her, and judging
by the smell of urine coming from their prisoner they were succeeding. Her slippers didn’t make a
sound as she staggered through the cut milo stalks, but her raspy breathing was clearly audible. A
pink foam curler fell from her head as she was unceremoniously assisted into the helicopter.
Twelve minutes after first touching down, they were already lifting off, headed for
Nebraska.
“I hear you know our friend, ‘The Dog Lady’. The funny thing is, she doesn’t know you. Now, no
offense, but since you’re out of breath from only walking a hundred yards, I have to assume you
couldn’t work a dog if your life depended on it. Some back up handler you’d make!
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAA.” George laughed heartily. This woman was nothing like
he’d imagined. For some reason, he’d expected a woman who could at least raise her arms over
her head without becoming winded. Instead, he was facing an idiot who was blabbering to him
about her friends in the FBI.
“Lady, we are the FBI! Hey, I just realized something... where was your patrol dog? I
never even heard a bark when we landed? Do you even have a dog? So you’ve had over
seven-hundred finds in two years with that same patrol dog? You only have six-hundred people in
your county! Are folks in your area so stupid that they can’t find their own way home and that’s
how you accumulated those numbers? Or were you lying?” Nicky chimed in. They were going to
have over an hour with this woman to torment her, and they were making every second
count.
As the winds picked up around Scout and I as we sat on the chilly prairie I realized that time was
wasting. Nothing more could be done from my end to protect my family and time was wasting for
working this case. With every gust of wind that came, the scent would be harder for Scout to
work. I gave Scout a final hug, then turned to my back-up to inform him we were back on the
case. Up until now, he had remained silent, never asking for the sudden urgency for radio silence.
In fact, he hadn’t asked a single question, other than if I was wanting a vehicle to come up for us
to sit in to get warm. I figured I owed him some sort of an explanation.
“Some idiot put this case on an internet mailing list for Bloodhound fanciers. She thought it would make
her look good to know me, I reckon’,” I spoke into the wind. “She is no longer an issue, but she
put us at risk. You’re wearing your vest, yes?” I asked him. I was referring to the standard
protection vest, lined with Kevlar and worn by intelligent law enforcement officers across the
country.
“Yeah, It’s on,” He replied.
“Good. Let’s get back to work, no radio transmission unless we need help. Keep your head down,
but your eyes open. Consider us at risk until we get to safety, ok?” I responded, taking a deep
breath to clear my head. I looked at Scout, who was wearing a thin blanket of snow like a shield. I
wished that someone would come out with a Kevlar vest for dogs that was functional, yet also
easily tolerated by dogs. So far, the manufacturers were only concerned about human officer
safety. It would be my job to watch out for Scout’s safety during the remainder of this case. I
gave Scout a final hug, then asked her if she was ready to go back to work. Although tired, Scout
got up again, ready to work until she dropped for me.
“OK girl, show me!” I whispered in her ear. Scout took off in the same direction, but I could see
that she was having trouble working the scent. Every time the wind died down a little, she’d shoot
forward, only to come back to re-work the area as the winds picked up. I raised my eyes and saw
that we were nearing the windmill. I had to make a decision that I might regret later, but I did it. I
pulled Scout from the trail temporarily as I decided to let her work a couple different areas.
I brought her closer to the windmill, then asked her to resume the trail. The winds had picked up
to gale force strengh, so I decided to pull Scout soon if we hadn’t made the find. The winds
would make it too hard for us to continue if they kept up this pace.
Behind me, I faintly heard sirens over the noisy wind. I swiveled my head to look at the same time
Halloran did. “Oh shit!” He cried.
“What?” I asked him over my shoulder. “It’s the local wanna-be dog handler!” Halloran yelled in
my direction.
“They self-deploy whenever they hear of something interesting happening. The dog they run is
nasty as can be!” He replied.
“Bite dog?” I asked him, still debating what to do about working this area with Scout. A bite
trained dog was one thing. Working alongside an unstable dog was an entirely different matter.
“No! He’s just nasty! Can you work any faster?”
“I’m not the one working this case!” I snapped, as I turned to face him directly. “Scout is
working as fast as she can based on the conditions. We’re not miracle workers!” I cried in
frustration.
"I’ll stall them, but please get moving!” He responded before getting on his radio again.
“Command, we’re approximately one mile to the South-east of your position, just before the
service road. Would you have someone bring us some hot coffee and blankets, please?” I didn’t
need a compass to know in which direction we were headed to know that he’d just sent the other
search team on a wild goose chase. I could imagine them screaming off in the opposite direction,
although I couldn’t hear the sirens. Somehow I just knew that they were running code all the way
and would put on seventy pounds worth of back-packs as soon as they arrived at the
“scene”.
With a little time captured, I walked Scout closer to the windmill hoping that she might pick the
scent up again. With a resume work command under her belt, Scout quickly closed the distance
and headed straight for the windmill. I was bent over at the waist to keep from getting picked up
and tossed by the high winds as we worked across the prairie. Scout’s face was crested with snow
and mine wasn’t much better when she finally turned to look at me and sat. I praised her and told my
companion that we were done.
“You guys might want to take a look around here, but I can’t make any guarantees. We need to
get warmed up. Maybe we can try again when the storm lets up, OK?” I yelled to Halloran
through the driving snow.
Scout only heard the word, “OK.” With that, she headed right for the one-thousand gallon water
trough sitting under the windmill and peered in. As I had dropped her lead after giving her a treat,
I had to run to keep up with her. Scout attempted to climb over the high walls of the trough to
get in, then backed away to sit facing me again on the sheet of ice formed around the trough’s
base.
“Give me your light!” I yelled to Halloran, my headlamp being long discarded.
In the murky darkness of the water, I could see something that was just a little lighter in color
than the rest of the water. I walked to the other side of the trough as I grabbed the asp from my
belt-based holder. Flinging it to my side extended the tactical asp to its full thirty-one inch length.
The trough walls were four feet in height, so I buried my arm into the bone chilling water, kept
liquid by the constant infusion of fresh water to its mass. Using my asp as an extension of my own
arm, I managed to hook what looked like fabric and start to raise it to the surface.
“Call it in. We got the last one.” I stated wearily, staring at what was left of the third victim, now
water-logged and swollen. I shook out my asp, then cracked it against the frozen ground to
collapse it back to its normal fifteen inches. Into its holder it went as I reached to brush the new
snow off of Scout’s back. Flashing lights approached us, along with the promise of somewhere to
warm up.
“There’s a helicopter circling around the airfield. They have a priority package for you but can’t
land due to the weather!” A deputy screamed at me as we jogged through the wind to his waiting
squad car.
“Tell them to either land or dump my package! I don’t care how it gets here, I just want it now!” I
yelled back, even though both Scout and I were now out of the wind and in the back seat of a
warm Ford Explorer. The deputy relayed my message and I heard them say over the radio that I’d
have it waiting for me at the local hospital, just forty minutes from our location, if the roads were
still passable.
“Get us to the hospital.” I told him, then sat back with my dog to warm up under the blowing
heater fan. I found the thermos of coffee that’d been left for me and began to drink right from the
thermos, letting the heated liquid scald my throat as it headed down to warm me from the inside
out.
I pulled the ski mask back over my face as I entered the hospital room. Scout stayed in the hall on
a down-stay, which after her past few days of excitement, meant fast asleep. “So, this’s the
wanna-be dog handler who tried to get my ass killed tonight?” I greeted the unwilling patient. In
her frumpy housecoat and only one ratty slipper, she looked slightly less impressive than the
average turd in full restraints.
“I understand you’re in need of a vacation, so I’ve arranged a ninety-day stay for you here in
Nebraska’s finest psychiatric facility. I want you to have a lot of time available to think
about what you just did. Maybe you could also think about those hundereds of cases you
supposedly worked for the FBI while you’re here.” Muffed screams behind her gag were all I
could hear as I walked out the door. She was plenty scared, which was all I’d wanted. Well,
almost... “Orderly, be sure that this woman has a chance to experience your E.C.T. room while
here. I’ll pay extra.”
I headed for the motel room with Scout at my side, then called my parents to let them know were
were almost done. I had one more thing I wanted to try tomorrow.
The next morning, two deputies stood at my motel room door with a thermos of coffee and a
waiting Explorer in the snow filled parking lot. Only six inches of standing snow had fallen during
the night, but the high winds had created two feet high drifts. “We got a confession last night.”
One of the deputies informed me, her cheeks ruddy from the chilly air.
Scout and I walked out into the brisk morning air and climbed into the waiting truck, then headed
for the Coroner’s office. Sharon, the Coroner and local veterinarian, welcomed me into her office
as Scout waited out in the truck. “The bodies found in the drums were pretty decomposed, as was
the body they fished from the trough. If it’d been warmer, we might not have had much left to
work with,” She informed me. “Instead, the bodies in the drums were able to provide a partial
semen sample from each of the victims. It’s not a great sample, but it’s something. We also have
other evidence we’re working on identifying. What do you need from us?” She asked
me.
“I’d like some scent pads from the semen if possible. Also, see if you can get anything from the
personal items found behind the drums if not too many people have handled them. Maybe we’ll
get a chance to use them later.” I told her, then showed her what I’d need and how to do it. I
gathered my zip-lock baggies, then headed back out to the truck to be driven back to the sheriff’s
office. Inside, there was a man who’d just confessed to these killings and I wanted to see how my
dog would do in a line-up using these scent articles. Once inside, I let the Chief know what I
wanted, then went to the fenced-in courtyard to wait for the line-up members to arrive. I hadn’t
seen the confessor while in custody, so this would be an honest line-up as I really had no idea
who it could be.
Seven men walked out of the building into the fenced courtyard. All were shackled and
handcuffed, and all wore prison issue coveralls. I recognized one of the faces, a deputy who’d
been out on the callout early last night, and smiled at him. Oh well, that still gave me six people to
work Scout on. All were started out in a single file line, then ordered to fan out and stand with
their backs to us.
“All right... My dog won’t bite unless you try to run. Just stand still and this will be over with
shortly.” I instructed the men. The Coroner stood to my side and let Scout sniff her before I
started her on the scent pads. I didn’t want Scout to trail the Coroner, so we used the “missing
member”approach to eliminate the Coroner from our search parameters. Scout was started and
she made a bee-line for one of the figures standing nearest to us.
“Is that him?” I asked Scout, fully expecting her to move on to the next man in the line-up. Scout
nudged the person with her nose, then sat, expecting a treat. I had no choice. I praised her and
handed over the goodie she’d said she’d earned, even though I was unhappy that she’d ID’d the
deputy.
Later on, back inside the building, a detective for the case came over to me, “I can’t tell anyone if
their ID is right or wrong, so I usually just say nothing. I heard you telling the other guys how
your dog worked and thought you needed to know this. I want you to listen to my words
carefully, OK? ‘Trust your dog. Dogs don’t lie.’ That’s all I can tell you.”
“I’m sorry he did it. I doubt you’ll ever find any answer that makes sense.” I sadly replied, before
thanking him for the confirmation of my dog’s performance in the field. I could only imagine what
it must be like to discover that a fellow officer had done so many horrible things to those women.
I slowly walked into the airport’s tiny bar with Scout at my side. We were both chilled to the bone
and staggering from exhaustion. Scout eagerly laid down as I slowly climbed up onto the bar stool
at the far end of the bar. Catching the barmaid’s eye, I motioned her towards me. The man
sitting to my right looked very familiar, but I was too tired to think of who he might
be.
“Bring me a bottle of wine, a chilled beer mug, a bowl of water and a well-done plain
cheeseburger will ya’?” I asked the barmaid, who was dressed in black slacks and a white frilly
blouse. She took my order, then walked away from us wrinkling her nose. She didn’t comment on
my dog with the badges hanging from her harness. Had she looked closer, she would have seen
that they were actually ski lift tickets.
“You stink lady. What’d you do-- roll in something dead?” The guy to my right asked me. I was
too tired to explain.
“Something like that,” I replied as my order was delivered as requested. The wine flowed into the
beer mug, clear up to the top of the handle. I let it sit for a bit, hoping to entice some ice crystals
away from the edge of the glass. While the wine worked its magic, I grabbed the freshly offered
cheeseburger laden plate from the barmaid. I slid off the bar stool slowly and knelt down to give
the plate to Scout. I wasn’t hungry-- I just wanted a drink and a smoke. My new drinking buddy lit
up a cigarette from a pack laying on the bar.
“Hey Pal..... Can I get a smoke from you?” I asked him as I reached for his pack, not waiting to
hear his actual answer.
“Here,” He said as he held up his gold lighter to the end of my cigarette. I closed my eyes and
inhaled deeply, enjoying the first feelings of the smoke filling my lungs. I opened my eyes as he
withdrew his hand. Before it was out of my sight, I noticed the four tattoo’d letters across his
knuckles. I took another look at his face to be sure. It was him.
“Hey man, can I buy you a Cognac?” I asked him.
“You know what I drink?”
“Ayup. New York. 1990. Chesterfields Club on West 57th Street. We hung out for a while. You
drank Courvoisier.” I reminded him, knowing he wouldn’t remember and I was lucky that I
did.
“Yeah? Well, Hell, if you can remember what I drink, I probably ought to buy you one. I see you
have a bottle though. What’s with the dog?”
“Seeing eye dog.” I stated blandly as I nodded my head in Scout’s direction. That got him to
chuckle and I remembered that he’d always had a nice laugh.
“You ever get a new manager? You were bitching about the fella you had that night.” I asked
him.
“Oh yeah. Got a team of them now and they’re just as screwed up as the one guy was back then!”
He exclaimed a little too loudly, making me wonder just how long he’d been sitting there drinking
at that tiny bar at that tiny Nebraskan municipal airport.
“Hey man, no offense, but do you know you’re in Nebraska? I mean, you know where you are,
right?” I questioned him.
“Guess I got lost.” he replied, which I took to mean that he’d missed his plane because he was too
wasted to get on the right one. He’d probably taken the next available flight, which happened to
bring him through Nebraska. I’d only waited twelve hours for the storm to let up, but I had a
feeling he’d been drinking longer than that.
“Where’re you headed?” He asked me.
“I’m going home.” I responded, my New York accent slowly making its way out of my mouth
more with every sip of wine that I drank. I looked out the window and saw a small jet pulling up
to the gate. “Where’re you headed?” I asked him.
“Dunno. I guess back to New York.” He replied as sullenly as he had spoken when I’d first met
him all those years ago.
I tipped my mug back to drain the last drops out of it and then slipped the remaining bottle of
wine into my inside coat pocket. My drinking buddy stopped me as I reached out to toss a couple
bills on the countertop.
“I’ve got it,” He replied, throwing several fifty dollar bills onto the counter as he also stood up.
Scout joined me as I gathered up her leash.
“Thanks for the wine. Don’t go to New York, man... You need a change of scenery.” I told
him.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. See ya’ woman.” He replied, as he left our company at the bar’s
entrance.
“That’s ‘Dog Lady’ to you.” I corrected him. “See ya’ Ozzy.” I retorted, as I headed for the plane
which would take us home.