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Authors: D. D. Ayres

Rival Forces (28 page)

BOOK: Rival Forces
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Once satisfied that Lily was calm and ready to work, Kye moved quickly through the warmth of the house's interior. Even in the dark, the captured heat within the house was beginning to thaw out his fingers and toes, making them tingle painfully as he quickly exchanged his soggy pants for jeans. There was nothing for him to change out of his undershirt into so he simply zipped his parka over it. He had to go back out into the cold so there was no real use in warming up. Except for the thermos of coffee that appeared in his hand.

The sheriff's wife had arrived, thinking that Yardley might need a woman's help. She'd even come prepared with sandwiches for her husband's officers.

Kye swallowed a ham sandwich in a few bites, amazed at how hungry he was. But it was eaten on the move. He had to get back out there and find Oleg before his injuries and the cold claimed him.

The sheriff drove them back to the site where other law enforcement officers were still gathering evidence on the utility road. A man had died. There'd been an attempted kidnapping of a federal witness. A home had been invaded. Shots had been fired. There would be many inquiries into the events of the night.

The searchers came to quick agreement. Lily would lead the search. Everyone, even the deputy's dog, would stay behind her so as not to confuse the scent.

Kye carried her off onto a snowy area in front of the truck. The wind direction wouldn't be a problem since they were up in the trees. The snow, at last, had petered out. Only problem, the woodlands here were heavily evergreen. Their pungent oily scent might cover Oleg's.

But Lily was game, prancing around on the snow-covered ground as she had done on the ski slopes of Utah.

Kye bent down and rubbed her chest to get her into search mode. “Good girl, Lily. Good girl.” He held the muzzle that belonged to Oleg under her nose so that Lily could catch the Czech wolfdog's scent. Then he took it away, unleashed her, and stood up. “Search. Oleg. Search!”

The toller immediately began sniffing the air. Moving in ever-increasing circles, under the arc of lights she suddenly paused, barked excitedly, and ran forward down the road.

“Go!” Kye followed Lily, who was doing some heavy air sniffing as they went along. It was but a few seconds before the deputy's hound seemed to catch a scent, too. The dog raced forward, straining at the end of his handler's long search leash.

They quickly went off road, up an incline, and into the woods. Kye could hear Lily moving ahead of them. The sky was clear now but the winter woods were murky. Only the flash of Lily's bright-red coat when she crossed the light thrown by his flashlight offered a vivid contrast with the bare branches of oak and chestnut and the blue-green density of evergreens.

Every few minutes, Lily would stop and do what he called her wave motion, moving her head up and down, trying to find the scent on an air current to keep them moving forward. Once enclosed in woods, scents often became misdirected. Cool weather kept scents from rising from the ground.

For ten minutes, they moved between field and tree stands, heading east and then south, deeper into the woods without a track. Kye kept his gaze forward, watching Lily's back though she was anywhere from ten to fifteen yards ahead of him. It was clear she was in her element, tracking and glorying in the chase. Once in a while she glanced back at him.

He was just about to call Yardley when Lily stopped dead. She sniffed twice. Snorting and backpedaling, she began yipping excitedly and then running in circles, sneezing and yipping.

“What's that mean?” The sheriff had come up behind them.

“She's found something. Stay back.” He was very much concerned that Lily had caught the scent of death.

With a heavy stroking heart, he moved forward. When he was within ten feet of Lily, he withdrew the FLIR. It was a forward-looking infrared device that would allow him to see variances in heat. Every living thing gave off heat. He hadn't wanted to use it while there was a chance he could scan a raccoon or other wild creature. Now he aimed it in the area where Lily was dancing in concern. It registered two signatures, Lily's the brighter of the two.

“Found him. Stay back.”

“Heel.” Lily came bounding toward him, thrilled to get the chew toy Kye pulled out as reward. He snapped on the leash and handed the end of it to the sheriff.

He turned and approached the injured dog slowly. Oleg was lying on his side and did not even lift his head as Kye approached. He was hurt and in pain.

Kye used his flashlight to guide him but held the beam off the dog's face so that it didn't blind the canine.

“Hey here, big fella. Hey, Oleg. You've had a big night, haven't you?”

Oleg roused himself to lift his head but whined and lay back down.

Kye got down on his knees. An injured dog was often a frightened one and he didn't want to get bit if he could help it. “It's okay, Oleg. Good boy. You saved lives tonight. Yes you did. You deserve a medal.” Kye wished he knew some Czech phrases but he hoped his tone would convey his intentions.

“Need to get you out of here, Oleg. Going to put the muzzle on you.” He held it out so that Oleg could sniff it. After a moment, the dog did just that. He bared his teeth but did not try to bite it.

“I know. I'd hate it, too, if I were you. But it's okay. Just a precaution.”

When Oleg lifted his head again, Kye slipped the wire basket over his snout. When Oleg didn't react, Kye quickly slipped the straps into place and buckled it.

Using the blanket he'd brought with him, he scooped up the Czech wolfdog. He wasn't surprised by the dog's sudden growl of warning or even when he tried to snap at him. He felt the dampness of his fur wasn't all from the snowy ground.

Once he held him in his arms, he turned to the sheriff. “Let's go. Can someone call ahead to wake a vet?”

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

April, Harmonie Kennels


Hier.
Storm. Thunder.”

The pair of four-month-old Belgian Malinoises, born on New Year's Eve, came running on Yardley's command. They were rangy and lean, like a pair of teenagers. Of the six, Yardley had determined that these two had the most drive and intelligence for law enforcement work. Taggart, her senior trainer, had chosen two of the others. The final two had been adopted by law enforcement personnel looking for companions for their working K-9s.


Sitz.
” They dropped butt, all rapt attention as two pairs of serious intelligent dark eyes in black-masked faces gazed adoringly up at her. Their ears stood tall and wide, revolving like satellite dishes. Too big for their heads now, but the dogs would grow into them.

Smiling, Yardley waved the ball launcher, a long plastic wand with a tennis ball attached at the end, under their noses. And then she began walking. “
Hier.

Eager to earn the ball, they followed her, watching the ball's every movement as she made slow sweeps through the air. As she passed a picnic table she raised the wand up so that the ball traveled over the top. “
Hopp.

Both puppies jumped up on the table, eager to follow the reward they knew would come at the end of the game. Much of early training for potential K-9s was about helping the pups overcome natural fears of leaping, balancing on unfamiliar surfaces, and hesitations with new things so that they gained the confidence to try new things if their handler was telling them to do something. Practicing balance and agility gave them both. Soon they would learn to go into dark places, climb ladders, and force entry through a doorway. But for today, they were building muscle memory and getting exercise.

As she moved on, they leaped off the table after her, their natural athleticism showing in their fearlessness launching themselves from the height. She jogged quickly over to the wooden railing of the deck attached to the classroom building. As she lifted the ball wand up, Storm and Thunder jumped for the narrow railing on top. Storm made the leap easily. Thunder had to scramble a bit to keep his footing. Encouraged by the moving ball, they stepped cautiously along the two-by-four, like tightrope walkers on a high wire. Yet they both jumped off this higher perch without hesitation.

Yardley went back to the beginning and repeated the skill until they both were jumping and balancing unhesitatingly on the rail. Another lesson learned.


Gute Hunds!
” Her pride sounded in her voice, high and girlish as she bent to love on them. The puppy pair were pretty happy with themselves, barking and wagging tails. They had already learned not to leap on a handler.

After a moment, she held up the ball launcher again. Both puppies came to immediate attention and sat, dark eyes fixated. Thunder was the first to notice that Yardley had pulled a second ball from her pocket. He glanced at her and barked.

Laughing, she reared back and launched both balls into the air. The brother and sister's heads snapped, their bodies doing a little dance of coiled energy. But neither chased after the balls.

When the balls had bounced in the thick spring-green grass Yardley cried, “
In ordnung.
” Okay, they were free to play.

The pair took off like they'd been shot from a cannon.

Both were very eager to learn, and came with a natural drive to please. Storm was a bit more courageous than Thunder at this stage. But Thunder would develop the slight advantage of male weight and size as they continued to grow.

Yardley grinned as she watched the pair. Her first breeding project was a success.

“Here you go, boss.”

Yardley turned to find Taggart coming toward her with Oleg on the leash.

Her expression went serious as she watched the Czech wolfdog approach. Nothing in his stride gave away the surgeries he'd been through to repair damage after he'd been shot.

Taggart saw her frown and smiled a big toothy grin. “Stop worrying. He's doing real good, Yard. I got him up on the tires and then jumping the bales. He's leaping like a champion.”

Oleg came bounding up to her, a friendly growl issuing from him.

“Thanks, Taggart.” She took Oleg's leash and squatted down to scratch him softly. Oleg offered her licks in return. They'd become more than handler and K-9. They'd become a team. But she wanted to be certain her affection for Oleg wasn't clouding her judgment about his abilities. She needed to be sure he could do the things she thought he could.

When Kye had delivered him to the vet four months ago, Oleg had been in critical condition due to trauma, blood loss, and exposure. He'd taken only one of the two shots aimed his way. Miraculously, the bullet had struck his ear first, tearing a hole in it before entering his right hindquarter. It tore some muscle, but the penetration hadn't gone deep or shattered bone. He'd had surgery that night and again in the morning to repair the damage. Then came the weeklong wait to see if he would develop an infection. But the Czech wolfdog rallied, getting back on his feet faster than anyone expected.

Now all that was left of Oleg's experience was a torn ear and a tail that tended to lean to one side where a nerve had been damaged.

“Good news, boss. The sheriff called to say the court decision has come in. Oleg's in the clear.”

Yardley looked up with a smile. “No more threats against him?”

Taggart frowned, his face resembling a bulldog's. “I'd like to see someone say he's vicious after looking at those photos of what he suffered.”

Yardley thought the same thing. But people were strange. The fact that Oleg's attack had resulted in a death shocked everyone, including her. But the circumstances had been extreme. He was operating in near-blackout conditions, and he taken a bullet before his takedown bite. It was pure bad luck that his teeth had severed an artery. He hadn't been trained to kill. But he was doing his job of providing protection.

Still, all dog bites had to be reported. It had taken lots of testimony by friends and experts to convince a judge that Oleg wasn't dangerous in ordinary circumstances. That he didn't really know what he'd done, other than his job to protect his handler by biting the bad guy. Yardley had had to sign papers promising that Oleg would never work as a law enforcement K-9 before the judge would agree to consider allowing him to leave the shelter where he'd been placed while awaiting judgment.

“Too bad he can't now do his job. He's more than capable.”

“Thanks to you.” Yardley stood up and, not allowing herself to censor her actions, threw her arms about the big man and hugged him tight. “Thank you.”

He turned bright red and grinned like a schoolboy. “My pleasure, boss.”

It didn't matter that he couldn't work K-9 law enforcement. He wasn't going to be a ghost op K-9 private security dog, either.

Yardley had seen to that. She had told his owners that Oleg was no longer fit for the service they had in mind. It wasn't a lie. She hadn't liked what they had in mind. They'd been much too eager to hear the details of Oleg's deadly takedown. Wanted to know if a dog could train for that particular bite. She wanted nothing to do with them. In fact, she mentioned that if the news got leaked they were training murder dogs, they'd be out of business. Then she bought him from his handlers, paying top price for a dog that would never work a day in the career he'd been trained for. But there were other jobs he'd be equally good at.

Yardley reached for a tennis ball and held it up before Oleg. Then he noticed the pair of four-month-olds fighting to claim both balls. He glanced back at Yardley. And then at the pair. She knew what he wanted. She unleashed him.

He came in fast on the pair of puppies, hitting them low and knocking their legs out from under them. They went tumbling across the grass like a pair of bowling pins after an Oleg ball strike. They rolled and were up instantly, barking and chasing their tormentor. Oleg easily outran them, only to circle back and grab one of the tennis balls. The other ball forgotten, they chased him until their tongues hung like bright-pink flags from their open jaws, and they collapsed in the grass. Only then did she lob the third ball their way. Oleg, of course, beat the youngsters to the new ball, claiming it. They, in turn, went to find the abandoned balls. After a moment, three happy dogs lay in the grass chomping on their favorite toys.

BOOK: Rival Forces
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