Hamilton had a warm brown complexion and black hair with a single stripe of electric blue at the front that she wore in a tight bun as per the rule for all female patrolmen. She hadn’t been in the K9 unit long, but from what Isaac had heard of her, she and her canine partner, Tank, were quickly making a name for themselves.

  “Hey, Hamilton.”

  She nodded. “How can I help you, Sarge?”

  “We’ve got a female body in the house,” Isaac said as he started walking, leading Hamilton around the side yard to the back of the house. “She was stabbed multiple times. Witness, a next door neighbor, says he heard a commotion and saw someone run from the back here into the wooded area behind the houses. I’ve kept everyone out of the backyard in the hopes that your dog can pick up a scent.”

  Hamilton nodded, her eyes scanning the yard. “Okay, great. I’ll need to speak with that witness before we get started.”

  Isaac pulled out his small handheld radio and pressed the button. “This is Sgt. Taylor. I need the witness brought to the to the south side of the backyard. And make sure he is walked through the front yard to get here, do not go through the back.”

  “Acknowledged, Sergeant,” came the reply.

  “Thank you for that, Sergeant,” Hamilton said. “Most supervisors don’t think about cops contaminating a search field during a call.”

  “You’ll find that I’m a big believer in our K9 Unit, Hamilton. I’ve seen what the dogs can do and I respect them. Dogs can be a valuable asset. I personally believe all police departments should have them. Regardless of the department’s size.”

  Officer Hamilton smiled at him, and Isaac decided she was actually a very attractive young woman.

  “Thank you for saying so, Sarge. The K9 program can use all the support it can get.”

  When the witness was finally brought over to them, Isaac stood by and listened while Hamilton questioned him about what he saw.

  “And where exactly was the very last place you observed the suspect, sir?” Hamilton asked Mr. Silverton.

  “Well the last place I saw him was right over there, just before he disappeared into the trees.” The man pointed out toward the grove that ran behind the row of houses. “He ran right between those two huge evergreen pines.”

  “All right. Thank you for your help, sir,” Hamilton said and then turned to Isaac. “That’s where Tank and I will begin.”

  “Do you need an escort?” Isaac asked. “Someone to track with you?”

  Officer Hamilton grinned, but Isaac could see the attitude behind it.

  “Thanks for the gentlemanly offer, Sarge, but Tank and I will have each other’s backs.”

  Isaac held up a hand. “I apologize, Hamilton. I wasn’t trying to be chauvinistic, just practical. I would offer the same escort to any of our K9 teams going out to track a murder suspect in the dark of night.”

  “No, I’m sorry, sir,” Hamilton said, sounding contrite. “It’s just that I usually end up having to babysit my backup instead of concentrating on my dog. And that’s just a recipe for disaster. So Tank and I will be fine on our own.”

  Isaac drew in a deep breath. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her to be out there on her own with only her K9 partner as backup. In fact, he admired her determination and her confidence. He only hoped she wasn’t refusing the extra backup to try and prove a point.

  He decided to trust her judgment.

  “All right. Get on it.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  2

  Officer Riley Hamilton marched back through the front yard and across the street to her SUV. Through the lightly tinted windows she could see Tank pacing about in his huge cage, waiting for her to return.

  At the back of the vehicle, she opened up the hatch and reached for the compartment that held her gear. She pulled out a small flashlight and secured it in a pocket of her dark blue cargo uniform pants. Then she checked her gun and returned it to the holster at her thigh. Finally, she pulled out the tracking harness and lead and secured it under her arm while she opened up Tank’s cage. She clipped the short traffic lead to his collar before the dog came bounding out of the vehicle.

  Tank was gorgeous, if she did say so herself.

  And impressive as all get out.

  Okay, so maybe she was a little bit biased, but she had heard it from multiple people. Not all of them cops either.

  A medium-haired, rust-colored, 90 pound German Shepherd with a black mask — meaning his face and muzzle were black. And the most intelligent brown eyes Riley had ever seen on a dog.

  Seriously.

  There were times he would give her a look that she would swear was more human than animal. It was slightly freaky. And the dog had a presence about him. Intimidating and commanding. An air that said ‘I ain’t afraid of shit, but you should definitely fear me.’

  It was the way he looked at people. The way he watched everything going on around him.

  Like he was studying you.

  Learning your secrets and your tells.

  Tank didn’t miss much, and he was a great judge of character.

  If her dog didn’t like you, Riley rested secure in the knowledge that she shouldn’t trust you either.

  “Time to go to work, buddy.”

  She closed the hatch and locked it up. Then she fisted the loop of the leather traffic lead in her left hand.

  “Heel.”

  She led Tank across the street to the yard in question, noting with some interest the looks of intrigue and apprehension her partner garnered from their fellow officers.

  Yep.

  Tank was impressive.

  She walked him around the house to the backyard and about ten feet out from where the witness claimed to have last seen their suspect. When she stopped walking, Tank sat and looked up at her. Waiting for instructions.

  “Good boy. Stay.”

  She removed the short traffic lead that was used to keep the dog at her side, and clipped it to the loop on her utility belt. When she pulled out the tracking harness, Tank stood eagerly and waited for her to put it on him.

  Riley smiled. The tracking harness signaled that it was time to work. And there was nothing Tank loved more than working.

  The harness was attached to a 30 foot length of leather leash that would allow Tank the freedom to move about as they searched for their suspect.

  Riley took hold of the loop at the end of the lead and folded a small length of it into her left hand to make sure she had a good grip. Then she looked at her partner and gave him the command to begin.

  “Track.”

  Tank immediately put his nose to the ground and began to sniff. It didn’t take him long to latch onto a human scent. When he did, he took off through the giant Eastern White Pines and into the woods.

  Riley followed after him, her boots crunching against the inch of snow on the ground. She shivered and gave silent thanks for her decision to wear the thermal underwear under her uniform tonight. Last time she checked, the temperature was hovering right around freezing and dropping lower with each hour.

  The forecast was calling for more snow.

  The wooded area behind the victim’s house was not large. It stretched about ten acres in length across the back of the plat and maybe around 30 yards or so in width. But it was incredibly dense with patches of thick undergrowth in some places.

  Luckily for Riley, their trek wouldn’t have to traverse the entire stretch of woods. Her job was to trust her partner’s nose to track the suspect and follow along wherever he led.

  They moved stealthily through the woods. The only sounds she heard were the soft crunch of snow beneath their steps and the occasional huff of Tank’s breathing.

  Overhead, the moon was only about three quarters of the way full. Just bright enough to cast eerie shadows in the night that danced across the snow in her peripheral vision.

  Taunting her.

  Trying to spook her.

  Riley swallowed down the sliver of trepidation that tried to take hold of her thoughts.

  That was always the hardest part, she decided. Getting cool with being out here alone. Getting used to walking among the shadows. Getting comfortable with searching for criminals in the dead of night and relying on only her wits, her gun, and her dog to survive.

  But being a K9 handler was all Riley had ever wanted. It was her dream job. And she was determined to become the best at it. That’s why she and Tank got in all the extra training that they could.

  The department only allotted for two hours of training time as part of the K9 work week. So Riley and Tank would get in extra training during Riley’s free time. She usually aimed for a total of eight to ten hours of extra training per week. And all that extra effort showed in her dog’s performance on the street.

  Tank suddenly stopped and pawed at the ground. Then he sat down and looked up at Riley.

  “Good boy, Tank,” Riley quietly said as she reached for one of the pockets on her cargo pants and pulled out a small evidence bag. With her flashlight she quickly illuminated the ground in front of the dog and spotted the item he’d just indicated on.

  She carefully turned the bag inside out and picked up what looked to her like a piece of fabric that had been ripped from one of those puffer-style jackets people wore in the winter time.

  Item bagged and sealed, she turned off the flashlight, stuffed the evidence bag into one of her many pockets and looked at her dog.

  “Good job, partner. Track.”

  The dog stood, put his nose back to the ground and resumed their track. He took them deeper into the wooded area, through brush and over uneven terrain. At one point Riley felt Tank leap up onto some kind of platform and then down the other side of it.

  Just as she was about to hop up onto whatever the dog had just climbed over, Tank turned and circled back, sniffing all around the base of what turned out to be a small rock formation.

  “You got something else, buddy?”

  Tank pawed at an object and sat down, looking up at Riley triumphantly.

  She pulled out her flashlight once again and shone it on the ground along the base of the rock formation.

  A knife blade glistened in the moonlight.

  A spark of victory lit in her stomach.

  “Oh wow. Good boy, Tank.”

  Riley repeated the process of retrieving the evidence, this time pulling out a medium-sized bag from her pocket. The knife in question was covered in blood and it was the kind you might find on someone’s kitchen counter as part of a set.

  She stuffed it into the evidence bag blade first, but the handle was too long to fit. So she improvised, putting another evidence bag over the handle part and then securing the two bags together with the hair tie she had around her wrist. When the knife was safely stored in her pocket she and Tank resumed their track once again.

  Not ten minutes later the wooded area opened up onto a snow-covered grassy slope that led down to the road. Riley took short stilted steps all the way down the steep slope.

  At the curb, Tank indicated that they had come to a large pool of scent, circling around in a tight formation. Then he sat and looked up at her.

  “That’s all she wrote, huh boy? Can’t argue with that.”

  It was the truth. A scent puddle like that meant only one thing. Their suspect had gotten into a car, or onto a motorcycle, or some other type of vehicle that had been waiting at this very point for him or her, and disappeared into the night. But it had been a very successful track.

  Now to reward her partner.

  Riley pulled a tennis ball from her pocket and tossed it down on the ground.

  It bounced one time before Tank pounced on it, his tail wagging happily.

  “Good boy!” Riley said in a high pitched voice, rubbing the dog’s soft fur.

  Tank pranced around with the ball in his mouth, soaking up her praise. It was the proper way to end every job well done, whether they found their man or not.

  While Tank played with his ball Riley got on the portable radio attached to her jacket collar to report in.

  “2-Adam 24 to Base. I’ve just completed a track with my partner. We did not get our man, but we did pick up two articles along the way. I’ll be returning to the house forthwith.”

  “Copy that 2-Adam 24. Will advise the Detective Sergeant of your finds and impending return.”

  “Copy.”

  “Base out.”

  Riley looked at her partner. “Good job, buddy. Let’s get changed.”

  She removed the tracking harness from the dog and took a minute to coil up the 30 feet of lead attached to it. Then she tucked it under her arm and secured her partner with the short traffic lead once again.

  “Okay, let’s head back. Heel.”

  They hiked back up the slope and Riley allowed Tank to pull her up the steep incline. Then it was back into the woods where they retraced their steps back to the victim’s residence. The walk back took much less time since Tank was technically off the clock and no longer concentrating on following a scent.

  He had done his part.

  But Riley still had some work to do.

  By the time they made their way back to the crime scene, she spotted the Medical Examiner’s van pulling away. That meant the victim was finally being transported to the morgue and the Evidence Response Team was most likely finished with their part. It also meant that the detectives were already gone.

  Riley opened up the back hatch of her SUV and loaded Tank back up into his cage. She secured her gear and the evidence found during their track. Then she closed the hatch, got behind the wheel, and opened up her briefcase.

  She pulled out a pen and paper and began to draw a map of the track she and Tank had just completed, making sure to show where they began and ended and at what times. She also detailed exactly where they had found each of the evidence items. When she was done with her map she set it aside and started up the SUV. Then she pointed the vehicle toward the police station.

  Her drive back was relatively uneventful, with the exception of the occasional flurries turning to full blown snow falling and the temperature dipping lower.

  Once back at the station, Riley parked the SUV in the back parking lot and grabbed her track map. Then, leaving the vehicle running, she got out and opened up the hatch and gathered the two pieces of evidence.

  “I’ll be right back, buddy.”

  She closed up the SUV and locked it. Then she went inside the building. Because she didn’t want to leave Tank in the car too long, she kept on task, heading straight up to the fourth floor detectives section. She glanced around and spotted Detective Sgt. Taylor seated at his desk and headed that way.

  “Sgt. Taylor?”

  He looked up at her. “Officer Hamilton. Dispatch sent word you did not find our man.”

  “No sir, we did not. But we did find these.” She placed the two evidence bags onto his desk.

  “Whoa. That is a really big knife.”

  “Yes it is, sir. To me, it looks like the kind one might find on the kitchen counter of any given home. Like from one of those sets that come in a wood block?”

  “I know the kind you mean. My wife and I got a set as a wedding gift,” he said. “It’s sitting on our kitchen counter as we speak.”

  “And this other looks to me like a piece of fabric that’s been ripped from one of those puffer jackets people wear in the winter.”

  Detective Taylor nodded as he held up the bag and examined the scrap of material. It even had a small amount of filler substance attached to it. Most likely synthetic fibers used as insulation for the garment.

  “I know the kind you mean,” Taylor said again. “All right. You got a map for me?”

  “Yes sir.” Riley handed the paper over. “From the position where we found the knife my guess would be that the perp tripped and fell over that rock formation and dropped it on accident. If he was trying to hide it he didn’t do a very good job.”

  Taylor studied the paper and pointed to the end of the map. “This pool of scent you mention here?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Did you happen to notice if there were any traffic cams nearby on this road?” he asked, looking up at her.

  “Actually, I did. There is at least one facing south,” Riley said. “I’m sure it probably got a shot of our guy coming out of the trees.”

  “Excellent.” Taylor glanced over at his partner and pointed a finger his way. “Pete⁠—”

  “I’m on it,” the other detective said, picking up the receiver of his desk phone.

  If she had to guess, Riley would say he was most likely calling up to the IT department to get someone to gather the footage from that particular traffic cam for the last twelve hours or so.

  Taylor looked up at her again and then smiled. “Great detail. Your dog did good, Hamilton. Do me a favor and give him a treat from me, okay?”

  Riley smiled at him. She liked Detective Sgt. Taylor. Not only was he something of a legend at this precinct because of his proven psychic abilities, but he was also extremely easy on the eyes. And call her crazy, but something about the pretty brown face of his wife that smiled at her from the framed photo on his desk made him even cuter in Riley’s eyes.

  Yeah. It was a Black thing.

  “I will do that, sir. Good working with you.”

  “You too,” Taylor said. “I’m sure it won’t be the last time. You stay safe out there.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  3

  Isaac watched Officer Hamilton walk away and then turned to Pete with a heavy sigh.

  “What do you say we go question suspect number one in there and try to get him to give us a DNA swab before we pack it in?”

  He glanced at the murder board they had just put together with a head shot of the victim and one taken of her body at the crime scene. They also had an image of Mr. Franco on the board. He was listed as suspect number one, and a generic picture of a male silhouette listed as suspect number two.

  “Sounds like a solid plan. Maybe we can see what he knows about this second man in the woods with a butcher knife too,” Pete said.

 

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