Payback (The Canine Handler Book 1) (6 page)

While Dave worked on the coordinates, Sarah remembered her FRS radio, knowing Kellee had said to contact her if needed. Sarah thought better of using the small personal radio in case someone else had their ears on. She decided to text Kellee on her phone instead. She typed: “Sam has indicated on strong human odor coming off the lake close to the dam.” She hit send. Without waiting for a reply, Sarah decided she should radio the information to base. They needed to get a dog on a boat and into the area right away.

Sarah hesitated for a moment, reflecting on the events that took place earlier that morning when Gunner made a hit on the boat. It put her in an internal conflict.
Would they take her seriously this time?
She was running a different dog.
Would they believe him? How would the dive team react to running a dog over an area they had already declared as cleared?
Her anxiety level rose as she deliberated.

Sarah closed her eyes for a moment to gather her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she refocused. Strongly believing in her dog, she picked up the radio mic to make the call to base camp and the lieutenant.

Dave watched as Sarah stood among the boulders and rocky terrain on the beach. The sun tracked westward, giving way to a beautiful backdrop that made her copper hair shine. He studied her as she digested the setting, the moment. Sarah looked like she belonged where she was, doing what she was doing—in the outdoors working her dogs.

She was in her element, but he could see she was at odds about making the call to base camp. He could also tell how passionate she was about her dogs and how well she understood them. Even to his novice eyes, it was now black and white when her dogs detected human scent, working to find the source as opposed to hunting or just not working at all.

As he continued to observe her, Sarah sighed with slight exasperation and pulled the mic from where it hung on her vest.

“Base, this is Canine 3,” Sarah called.

Dave could hear the radio crackle and come to life where he stood near the tree line with Sam. He felt for Sarah as he watched her, tense holding the mic, readying to deliver the information. He could see her brow knotted, teeth clenched and jaw jutted.

“Go ahead, Canine 3,” base responded.

With a slight hesitation, Sarah replied, “I have new information. Dog indicated along shoreline near dam.”

Communication and management on the other end of the radio knew the area Canine 3 team had been assigned. They would know the dive team had covered it earlier in the day. But it was not their job to make a determination. They were there to take down radio traffic information, decipher it and use it for planning purposes. In the end, it would be the incident commander’s decision how to use the material.

“Canine 3, please respond with coordinates.”

Sarah drew in a deep breath and read off the GPS coordinates Dave had written down. She explained in short detail where the scent cone coordinates were and where the dog had stood barking and biting at the water’s edge.

At first, she had been met with dead air. Dave could see by her tense stance that she’d anticipated as much. She stood staring at the ground around her feet. As Sarah and base continued to go over details, a member of the dive team broke protocol, busting in on the transmission.

“Dive team with side scan sonar already ran that area. Twice in fact,” the diver stated. “We’ve had two teams grid there several hours this morning. There’s not enough current there for the body to have moved yet. Water this cold, the body wouldn’t pop for several days,” he stated testily.

A fresh or recent drowning subject in cold water usually sinks to the bottom of the body of water immediately. The sticky silt of the base of the lake would, in normal circumstances, help contain a body until it started to decompose and gases built up within the body’s core. Cold temperatures would slow the process and contribute to it staying on the lake’s floor. Once decomposition ramped up—either by the passing of time, or flesh-eating animal activity—the gases building in the body would cause it to slowly rise toward the lake’s surface. It could take anywhere from a few days to several weeks, even months in the cold. Other components could come into play, but this was the usual progression in a cold water drowning.

Dave continued to hold his position between the dog and Sarah. He stood with his arms crossed, but faced Sarah to let her know he was there if she needed him. His police mentality wanted to see more of what Sarah was made of.
Reserved and serious,
crossed his mind
, but seems like she can hold her own. Tougher than she lets on.

“Canine 3, this is base,” squawked across the radio channel. No doubt base needed to reassert control to complete the transmission with Sarah.

“Canine 3 copies,” she replied.

Search management read back the coordinates Sarah had provided and she re-confirmed. She gave an ETA for their return to base camp and ended the transmission.

Since it seemed that everything was now under control, Dave turned all of his attention to Sam who was still in a down command along the tree’s edge.

Dave pulled a soft bowl and bottle of water from Sarah’s pack that sat beside the dog. Not paying attention to his surroundings, he softly spoke gibberish to Sam as he placed the bowl between the dog’s front paws and poured water into it. The dog tilted his head at Dave as he listened and waited for him to finish filling the bowl.

“Cute.”

Still crouched in front of Sam, Dave turned his head to see Sarah watching him.

“You don’t care if I help out with the dogs, do you?” Dave felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He knew Sarah had caught him in mid-conversation with Sam.

“No, not at all. Appreciate the help after dealing with these assholes.” Sarah smiled. “It would be nice to be somewhat appreciated. If not me, at least Sam and Gunner.” She shot Dave an exasperated look with a hint of sarcasm he couldn’t help but laugh at.

At least she feels like she can trust me,
Dave thought. Standing up, he repacked the water bottle in the backpack. “If you’re looking for recognition or approval from the dive team, you may be waiting a long time. What else can I do to help?”

“Not looking for either, but it would be nice to be acknowledged as a competent resource,” Sarah sighed. “I want to tie three stands of flagging tape to the trees along there,” Sarah pointed to an area near where Dave was standing with Sam. “Do you need a roll?”

Dave reached out an empty hand in answer and she tossed him a few rolls. He watched her pull out her notebook and pen. “What notes are you taking and why?” Dave asked. He wanted to know not only what she was doing, but the reasoning behind it.

“We keep a training log and a search record log for everything we do with the dogs—as I’m sure you do with your new canine. Wind direction, wind speed, temperature, where the dog worked, length of time it took us, where we marked the scent cone, where Sam showed us a full indication by barking. I also add where we walked by drawing a map of our search pattern, time and date.” She finished her explanation and pushed the pad and pen back into her deep pants pockets.

“Are we ready?” Dave looked around to make sure Sarah had everything.

She nodded with some hesitation. “Not sure about this next round, though.” Sarah looked out to the lake and back toward base camp.

“Anything else you need?” he asked one more time as Sarah headed to the dog and picked up the pack. He wanted to offer more, to make things easier for her. He watched as she bent down and leashed up Sam.

Sarah just shook her head indicating she didn’t need any further help.

This was Sarah’s deal. Even though Dave was a state trooper, he also thought of himself as a friend. He felt helpless. He couldn’t intervene on a professional or friendly support level. She had to figure this out herself.

So far she had fared well in proving herself and her dogs’ abilities. He could tell she was built with tenacity and resolve and knew she would come through on the prevailing side. Sarah always proved to be very sharp and forward in her position with the county. She had street sense and book smarts. He respected her.

“I think I have everything.” She turned to Sam, “Free,” she commanded. Sam jumped up and went to the end of the leash, heading back toward the water’s edge. “That’ll do,” she told the dog. He stopped in his tracks and looked back at her. “Stubborn,” she commented, “but in a good way.”

She called to Sam and turned to the direction of base camp. Sam got the idea and followed with enthusiasm. Dave watched the pair. It was like they could read each other’s thoughts, he mused.
Hopefully I’ll have that mutual bond and understanding with my Bella one day.

Lost in thought, Dave followed Sarah as they made their way back to the search hub. Sarah was quiet. He knew she was contemplating the situation and he didn’t want to prod her with questions. He was curious though how she was going to convince the agency and dive team that they needed to recheck the area—and recheck it with a canine.

Dave knew she would have to be careful how she treaded there, how she presented the information and how she would persuade management to follow up on Sam’s indication.
Either the body moved or god forbid, they missed it somehow when they ran side scan sonar and gridded the area. Boy, does she have her work cut out for her.

Arriving back in base camp, Dave headed directly toward the command unit. Sarah split off and started to make her way to her truck with Sam in tow.

“Hey, Sarah,” Dave called to her, “we need to check in and let search management know we made it safely back to base camp. I’m sure they’re waiting for us to debrief as well.”

“Can you check in for me, please? I need to take care of Sam first and give him a thorough going-over,” Sarah replied, continuing in the direction of her truck without waiting for an answer. She wasn’t ready to face the lieutenant and the dive team commander just yet.
Sam is my first priority at the moment anyway,
she thought,
but I also need some time to figure out how to deal with the whole situation.

Sarah reached her truck and set her pack down on the edge of the tailgate. Gunner started to whine, excited that his handler and playmate had returned. “Hey there, Gunner. Did ya miss us?”
At least he’s glad to see me,
crossed her mind as she thought of the dive team. Sam’s ears pricked up and he listened to the exchange between Sarah and the other dog. Sarah peeked into the crated dog’s confines to check his water. Satisfied he still had plenty, she turned back to Sam. “Okay, boy, your turn.”

She had Sam lay down on the tarmac in the parking lot. He sparingly obliged. Sarah kneeled down beside him. It was standard protocol for a handler to give a complete once over of their canine partner to make sure they were physically fine once completing an assignment.

Starting with his mouth, head and ears, Sarah closely examined the dog. She continued down each leg, inspected each paw, the pads and his nails. She finished with his head and limbs and checked his under-belly and tail. Convinced there were no splinters or thorns stuck in his pads or minute cuts or bruising, she allowed the dog to right himself and stand back up. Sam stood and shook himself vigorously. Dog hair flew in all directions. She took a slicker brush along his broad sides and back, and pulled out the last few remaining briers that had hitchhiked back to camp in his thick double coat. Cupping Sam’s dark sable head in her hands, she nuzzled him close to her face. Taking in a deep breath she heartily whispered to the dog, “You did a great job!”

Sarah was stalling. She couldn’t help feeling like she would be going up against a wall for trying to follow up on her dog’s indications.
Time to get a move on and head over to the command unit.

“Truck,” she commanded. Sam jumped up on the tailgate with ease. She directed him into his crate, checked his water and gave him a cookie. Gunner continued to whine faintly. “Oh hey there, boy,” she spoke to Gunner in a soft tone trying to appease and quiet him. He was still excited to see them both. Sarah slipped a cookie through the crate slats to him. “I’ll be back shortly,” she promised and turned toward the command unit. Both dogs stared at Sarah from within their crates. They felt the distracted tension emanate from her, causing them worried concern for their handler.

Sarah pulled her cell phone from her pocket and dialed Kellee. “Hey, Kellee, I’m heading over to the command unit now to meet with the lieutenant and the rest of the search management team including the dive team commander. How do you think I should handle this?”

Kellee and the other canine handlers were slowly making their way back to base from their search tasks.

“How strongly do you feel about Sam’s indication being accurate?” Kellee asked.

“It was pretty black and white. Per his body language and strong indication, I’m positive there’s a body out there. I’m just not sure how far across the lake.”
It was more than just the dog,
she thought.
Weird,
it’s also a feeling
.

“Well you need to get over to the lieutenant ASAP and explain how strongly you feel that your dog is correct. No matter what the dive team members interject. As you know, they won’t support having that area searched a second time, especially by canine teams.”

Kellee and Sarah quickly went over what the water search strategy should be once a dog was assigned to grid the area by boat.

“When will you and the guys be back in base camp?” Sarah asked Kellee.

“ETA about 15 minutes. I’ll get to the command unit as soon as I get Meika taken care of. You’ll be fine, Sarah. Just try and be as professional as you can. It’s important that we handle this well if we ever want to be called back for a future search by this agency.” Kellee ended the call.

Sweat marks showed through Sarah’s long-sleeve uniform shirt. Beads of perspiration appeared along her brow. Her anxieties returned in full force. She wiped her forehead with the sleeve of her shirt and tucked her long curls behind her ears. Completely stepping out of her comfort zone, she stood up tall and left the security of her truck.

Sarah gathered her courage, her moxie, and headed through the lot to the command unit. Collecting her thoughts, she deliberated how to portray her case to convince the lieutenant and dive team to reconsider. They had to run the canine teams on boats in the area in question. Sarah needed to get dogs on the water. There was no uncertainty in her mind.
But how am I going to make the dive team, park rangers and the state police understand that?

As Sarah approached the unit, she noticed the policeman who replaced Dave earlier at the sign-in table. He was the trooper who had lifted the tackle box out of the boat. She tipped her head in acknowledgment and smiled as she passed by. He never turned his head from the table; he only looked up fleetingly over silver-rimmed sunglasses. He didn’t respond to her in the least. She felt a pit in her stomach.
Asshole.

She watched as ground-pound teams continued to come and go, checking in and out. They turned in their assignments, debriefed and received new search tasks that would take them back out on the trails of the park.

As Sarah reached the steps to the command unit, she could hear a heated discussion in progress. She thought she heard Dave’s voice intertwined in the conversation. She could distinctly hear the commander of the dive team. “She’s an inexperienced dog handler. She has no idea what she’s talking about! We’ve covered that area thoroughly.” The dive team was used to being in control and running water searches in this county. The pit in her stomach grew.

Park rangers and the local police agencies would oversee land searches but generally would concede water search management to the dive team. The lieutenant was the incident commander for this event due to it being both land and water without eyewitnesses. Although the lieutenant had deferred the majority of the management of the water coverage to the dive team, she was still running the show. The dive team was not used to having management involved. Personalities, egos and strategies were clashing.

Sarah surprised herself. She smiled as she entered the unit.
All of this is because of my team and my dogs,
she thought
.
She was beginning to find the day’s events almost humorous. If the situation wasn’t such a serious setting, she would have laughed out loud. Normally she didn’t like to draw attention. When Sarah stepped into the hallway of the unit, all conversation abruptly halted and everyone turned to look at her.

“It’s about time you made your way over here,” the lieutenant stated.

Sarah looked from the lieutenant’s face to Dave and then to the two dive team members. She had wanted to keep control of this whole situation in the hands of the dive team commander and try and persuade him to take her and one of her dogs out on the lake, but he had already anticipated the dog team’s next move and faced the lieutenant, demanding it was not necessary. They knew Sarah would go above their head. She had already proven early in the day that she didn’t follow search protocol when she’d let her dog lead her to the boat.

Sarah couldn’t help thinking the dive team commander had an ulterior agenda.
Did they view her as a threat?
Was he thinking it might make the dive team look bad if a dog located the body in an area they had already searched?
She almost felt like she was playing a game of Risk, and instead of being first-responder resources that should work together toward a common goal, it seemed as if they were fighting for turf.

Sarah pulled the paperwork which included her map, notes and task assignment out of her BDU pants pocket. Unfolding the pieces of paper, she handed them to the lieutenant. “This is the area we covered,” she began and pointed to the tattered map. The rest of the occupants stood back with their arms crossed in a defensive manner except Dave. They remained quiet for the moment. Sarah continued giving details of her search task and how her dog behaved. Where and when Sam had first gotten scent, his body language right up to where he entered the water and started barking. She was nervous. Flashes of her childhood and dealing with authorities crept into her thoughts.
Stop it,
she forced herself,
this is different.

The lieutenant began to question Sarah. “Are you positive your dog had human scent? Can you guarantee the dogs can pinpoint where the body is? The dive team doesn’t believe we should be wasting time or any resources covering that area again.”

“Yes, I am positive that Sam hit on human scent. No, I can’t guarantee anything. But I do feel strongly that we should follow up on this lead.” Sarah answered with an air of certainty. The dive team commander rolled his eyes and turned away from the conversation with a huff.

“So what would be your next step if this was up to you? How would you run your search strategy if you wanted to follow-up on the information from the task you ran with your dog?” the lieutenant asked.

Sarah thought back to her recent conversation with Kellee. She tried to choose her words wisely as she thought of the dive team standing there.
Is this some kind of test?
She had never been in a position before where management asked for her input. “If the wind is still predominately from the north as it’s been all day, I would put two canines on the water with a boat driver and a spotter. Start one canine team here,” Sarah pointed to the north shore on the other side of the dam. “Start that team gridding east to west from the northern shoreline heading south.” Pointing to the southern side, she added, “And I would put a second team here gridding west to east heading north. Each team should grid approximately 400-500 meters each way.”

Kellee entered the command unit as Sarah was deep in discussion with the lieutenant. Sarah wasn’t sure how long Kellee had been standing there. The lieutenant looked up at Kellee and asked, “Do you agree with her strategy?”

Before answering, Sarah watched Kellee collect her thoughts. “Yes, the strategy is correct regarding how we work the dogs once one has indicated human scent coming off the water from the shoreline. I would use the ranger’s boats to run the dogs. Their Boston Whalers have a shorter gunwale and will make it easier for the dog to lean over and be closer to the water’s surface. If the rangers are available to drive their boats, we can send two of our team members and a canine per boat.” She finished by adding the diver team should be on standby so they can be ready to assist should the dogs hit on something while out on the lake.

If the canines were successful in isolating a vicinity, the divers could come into that area to try to locate and actually recover the body.

The dive team commander threw his hands in the air and looked toward the ceiling of the command unit again a second time when he heard Kellee speak of his team serving as standby for the dog team.

Sarah watched as his face went from a tan color to shades of purple. His salt and pepper hair appeared grayer and one could almost see the steam gush from his ears.
What a major asshole. He’s gonna give himself a cardiac.

It didn’t go unnoticed on the rest of the responders. They edged further away from where he stood.

“This is a complete waste of time and resources,” the dive team commander declared, slamming open the door. He stormed out of the command unit.

Unaffected by the drama, the lieutenant turned toward her communication officer. “Can you raise the park rangers and see if we can get two rangers and two of their boats to meet us over here to run the dogs and their handlers?”

The communication officer immediately put in the transmission. Rangers responded quickly. They could supply two men and two boats at the dock closet to the command unit in twenty minutes.

“Sarah, get Gunner and yourself ready to go,” Kellee directed. “I want you two in the first boat starting on the southern shore. I’ll ride with you. We’ll give Joe and Garrett the other task starting from the northern shore.” Kellee picked up her FRS radio to contact the other canine team members and let them know what their next assignment would be.

Tentatively, Sarah stepped outside the command unit and headed back to her truck. She was trying to control her anxieties. Scenarios played out in her head of what the outcome might be. She tried to stay optimistic that this would all work out. Positive her dog was right, she felt like she was being put to the fire.

Water searches could be a long, drawn-out process; it can be stressful work in itself. Adding in all of the negative attitudes from the dive team only made the stress rise to a higher level. She knew if they failed this task, it was pretty much over for her team as far as getting called out from this agency in the future. Resources clashing didn’t go unnoticed to those running the incident. Much would be riding on this search assignment.
God, I hope this goes well.