“Thanks, guys.”
Ben adjusted the heavy backpack and got on his bike. Hero stood right next to him, his head cocked to the side, his eyes locked on Ben.
Hero was waiting for his signal.
Ben untied his dad’s sweatshirt from around his waist. He held it out for Hero to sniff.
Hero ran his snout over the soft, faded fabric. He paused at the frayed neckline and gave it an extra sniff. He exhaled sharply to clear his nose, then sniffed some more.
“Hero!” Ben said, his voice full of urgency: “Find Dad!”
Hero took off like a shot. With one last look back at his friends, Ben followed. Hero flew ahead so fast that Ben had to stand up on his bike and pedal hard to keep up.
The late afternoon sun was low in the sky as they reached the end of the block. Without pausing to let Ben catch up, Hero turned right at the corner, his muscles rippling and his gorgeous black coat glistening.
Ben followed as closely as he could. Hero never slowed his pace. He was on a mission, and time and speed were of the essence.
For a mile or more, they headed down quiet residential streets. The only sound was the whirring of Ben’s bike tires on the asphalt. No one was out in their front yards or wandering the sidewalks, but Ben saw flashes of life through the windows of the houses he rode by. It seemed like every television played the evening news—updating the townspeople about his missing father.
Soon, they turned onto a road that led through the more industrial end of town, where businesses and warehouses had closed for the day.
Ben recognized this road, and he realized where Hero was leading him. His heart—already pounding from the hard bike riding—beat even faster.
Hero was leading him straight for the woods.
Ben had been tromping around in these woods his whole life. When he wasn’t at baseball practice, he and Hero played ball and wandered around there every day after school. This was where they had found Scout, when he was just a tiny, scruffy pup who hadn’t eaten in days.
And Ben and Hero had gotten trapped in these woods with Noah, Jack, and Scout during the hurricane. They had rescued Scout from an alligator, found a Boy Scout troop, and played an epic game of baseball.
But most important, these were the same woods where the two escaped convicts could easily be hiding at that very moment—with Ben’s dad.
Ben swallowed hard. This wasn’t going to be easy. If he and Hero found his dad, that meant they’d probably find the convicts too. And then what?
It was growing dark. He had a flashlight, but if they were trying to sneak up on two criminals, then the last thing he should do was use it. That meant Ben would have to follow Hero in complete darkness as evening turned into night, with only the neon lettering on Hero’s vest to guide him. And Ben would have to communicate with Hero without making any sound.
Ben was going to have to be on his guard—and put his faith entirely in Hero.
Hero would hear and assess every snap of a twig, every rustle of a leaf that sounded out of the ordinary. Hero would sniff the air carefully, repeatedly, and sense even the faintest hint of a person among the trees. Hero could smell someone from miles away. And . . . well, if it came down to it, Hero was pretty great at attacking bad guys too.
Hero dipped through the tree line and into the woods. The leaves overhead blocked out what little sunlight remained, and the air was chilly and damp. Despite the sweat he had worked up riding his bike, Ben shivered.
Hero snuffled at the ground as he ran, then raised his head and sniffed at the air. He swiveled his head back and forth, taking in thousands of different smells at once, sorting them, then picking the right one to follow.
They stuck to the edge of the woods, never going deeper than a couple hundred feet from the tree line. Ben was confused—why would the men who had taken his dad stay on the perimeter of the woods, where they would be more likely to be spotted? Why wouldn’t they head for cover deeper into the forest?
But he trusted Hero. There was no better search-and-rescue dog out there. If Hero said this was the way they needed to go, then this was where they were going.
After a mile or so of hard riding, Hero took a sharp left and zipped out of the woods. Ben followed him off the dirt and onto a paved road.
Ben knew exactly where they were. They rode for another quarter mile before Hero stopped and sat down, his signal that he had found what he was supposed to be looking for.
Ben shook his head in amazement.
“Hero, you’re one smart dog,” he said, catching his breath and laughing.
Hero stared at the wide, squat building across the road.
It was the Gulfport Police Station.
6
BEN HELD OPEN THE FRONT DOOR of the station for Hero, who sauntered into the building like nothing had changed—like he was still a police dog on the force and he was reporting for duty.
Hero walked right past the officer seated at the front desk. The tall, burly man leaped out of his seat—which looked tiny underneath him—and ran around the desk. He made a beeline for Hero with his arms open wide.
“Hero!” the officer cried, dropping to his knees and embracing the dog. “I’ve missed you, buddy.”
Hero sniffed at the collar of the man’s uniform. “You’re sniffing for the Sarge, aren’t you, pal?” The man’s eyes softened. He put his big, meaty hands on either side of Hero’s head and scratched him behind the ears. “If anyone can find him, it’s you.”
The policeman stood up, walked over to Ben, and enveloped him in a massive bear hug, squeezing the air out of Ben’s lungs.
“Hey, Ben.”
“Hey, Officer Biagini,” Ben grunted into the man’s chest. Officer Biagini released Ben, who inhaled gratefully. “Your dad’s going to be all right, okay?”
“Okay.” Ben smiled weakly.
“Did they ask you to come in?” Officer Biagini asked as he led Ben and Hero down the hall. Usually the station was busy with activity, but today it was weirdly quiet. Ben didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “To help out, I mean?”
“Um, not exactly,” Ben said.
“Ah, I see.” Officer Biagini smiled down at Ben. “Well, I’m sure they’ll be glad to see you.”
They stopped at the end of a long hallway. In front of them was a gigantic rectangular room, filled to the brim with a sea of desks.
Now Ben knew why the rest of the station was so quiet: Everyone was in here. A huge group of officers hustled around the room, talking with one another, tapping at their computers, speaking into their phones and walkie-talkies, and gesturing wildly over the desks. Phones dinged and rang and bleeped. A TV hung high on the wall, with the local news playing on mute. Ben saw his dad’s name, Officer David Landry, run across the bottom of the screen.
There had been a few other times when Ben had seen the whole force working together on a big case like this—but usually his dad was at the center of the action. He’d never thought that his dad would be the case.
At the center of the busy mass of policewomen and -men stood the head of the force, Chief Roberts. He was barking out orders, answering questions, squinting at his cell phone, and signing forms.
“Ben! Hero!” Officer Perillo’s voice called out over the hubbub. She ran over to Ben. “What are you doing here?”
The room went silent. Officers froze mid-sentence. All heads turned toward Ben and Hero. Even the chief looked up from his phone and locked eyes with Ben.
Ben broke out in a cold sweat.
“Uh, hi?”
Chief Roberts broke the awkward silence.
“Hello, son,” he said to Ben. “It’s good to see you. We’re doing everything we can to find your father.” The chief’s phone vibrated in his hand. “Excuse me, Ben,” he said. He raised the phone to his ear. “Yeah. What do you have for me?” He turned away and bowed his head as he listened carefully to the person on the other end.
Officer Perillo put one arm around Ben’s shoulder and
reached down with the other to pet the top of Hero’s head. Hero nuzzled her palm and licked her fingers. One by one, the other officers returned to their work.
“Ben—what is it?” Perillo asked. “Did you hear from your father?”
“No—I just—” Ben surveyed all the people who were working so hard to find his dad. For a second, his resolve wavered. He knew these were the best and smartest law enforcement officers in the entire state—and he was lucky they were on the case. How could a thirteen-year-old kid possibly help?
But that question didn’t change what he knew in his gut.
“Hero and I can help.”
“Ben—”
“We can find my dad. You know we can. You know no one is better trained than Hero—” Ben waved a hand toward his dog, who sat with his front legs perfectly aligned, looking up at them with rounded eyes. Hero flicked his ears at the urgent sound in Ben’s voice.
Hero was ready. He just needed Ben’s command.
“Ben,” Perillo began, her tone apologetic. Ben hated when grown-ups used that I’m-talking-to-a-kid voice. “You’re right. No one is better than Hero. And you’re darned good at tracking yourself. But this is a really dangerous situation.”
“We can handle it,” Ben said. His moment of self-doubt was gone. “Hero and I have done this before.”
“I know,” Perillo said. “But—”
“We got something!” Chief Roberts cried out from across the room. “Everyone, let’s huddle.”
Perillo shot Ben a worried look.
“Ben,” she said gently. “You and Hero should go wait in the lobby. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Ben understood what Perillo was trying to tell him. If it was bad news, she didn’t want him to hear it this way, in front of all these people. “Thanks, but it’s okay.” He swallowed the lump in his throat and braced himself.
Perillo stared at him for a long moment, her hand gripping his shoulder tightly. She exhaled. “Okay.”
Perillo, Ben, and Hero joined the group that had gathered in a half circle at the center of the room. Perillo nodded at the chief, telling him to continue.
Chief Roberts pressed his lips tightly together, pausing for a moment to weigh his words carefully.
“We got a lead,” the chief said.
Ben’s heart clenched like a fist. He gasped with relief. The officers let out a collective cheer.
“Sergeant Landry’s cell phone pinged a tower on the northern end of the national forest. But then it stopped.”
“How long ago, boss?” one of the officers asked.
“Eighteen hundred hours.” Roberts looked at his watch. “That’s . . . less than twenty minutes ago. We need to follow this fast, but bear in mind—it could mean nothing. Maybe his phone isn’t even with him anymore. We don’t know. We can’t let hope get in the way of our judgment here, people.” The officers looked down at the floor, letting the chief’s words of caution sink in. “Be smart, and be careful. Now let’s move.”
Ben ran the chief’s words through his head again, scanning them for clues. Why would his dad’s phone only send a signal for a moment? If his phone was working, why didn’t he make a phone call or send a text?
Ben grabbed Perillo’s arm. “He turned his phone on then turned it off again. That’s what that means, right?”
Her eyes grew wide with recognition as she grasped what he was saying.
“He did it on purpose,” Ben went on. “He wasn’t able to use the phone. So he was . . .” His mind was racing. “He was sending us a signal.”
“I think so,” Perillo said.
Ben was filled with nervous energy. He ran a hand through his hair and turned away from Perillo, took a few steps, then turned back. Hero whimpered at him, and Ben reflexively wrapped his fingers around his dog’s collar. “If he had to turn his phone back off, that means . . .”
Perillo nodded, her expression grim. “That means he’s not alone, Ben. They’ve got him.”
The convicts.
Ben’s dad had been captured. A wave of fear crashed over Ben. Images flooded his brain: His dad being taken. His dad fighting back. His dad tied up.
Ben’s chest was tight with a fear that bordered on panic. Breathe, Ben, he heard his father say. Take one step at a time.
Ben forced himself to exhale slowly and take a deep breath in. The knot in his stomach began to loosen. He began to think more clearly. And as he did, his fear crystallized into something else: determination.
If his dad was out there with those two criminals, then Ben most definitely wasn’t going to sit around here waiting for someone else to go and save him.
“Please,” Ben said, his voice filled with desperation. “If they have him, then we have to hurry. We have to find him. No one can do it faster than Hero. We both know that.”
Perillo squeezed her eyes shut as she considered what he was saying. Ben waited. Finally she looked right at him. “Wait here.” She walked briskly to the chief and spoke into his ear. The chief leaned in to listen, looking up at Ben as Perillo spoke. Perillo gestured toward Ben and Hero. Chief Roberts put a hand to his forehead and shook his head.
Perillo stood back, crossed her arms, and waited. The chief seemed to be weighing something. Finally, after another shake of his head, he nodded.
Perillo turned on her heels and crossed the room quickly back to Ben.
“You’re coming with me,” she said, pulling him by the arm.
“What do you mean? I’m not leaving!”
“Nope. You’re not leaving. We’re leaving. We need to get you suited up. I have to find some gear that fits you. Looks like Hero’s all set.”
“Wait—what do you mean?” Ben was confused. He wasn’t being sent home?
Perillo was walking fast. Ben scrambled to keep up. “You can’t be on my rescue squad if you’re not wearing something I can see in the dark.”
Ben couldn’t believe his ears. “He said Hero and I can come?”
“Yep.”
“What did you tell him?”
She stopped midstride and turned to face Ben. “The truth. I told him that Hero is our best bet of finding your dad fast. And that you come with the dog. You’re the one Hero listens to. Hero knows your dad, and you know Hero. We need you. Both.”
“Thank you—I can’t even believe . . .” Ben trailed off. “What did the chief say?”
“He said there’s only one condition.”
Ben’s heart sank. “What?”
“Don’t mess up.”
7
BEN HEARD THE BEATING OF THE helicopter blades through his headphones. He gripped the armrest and watched the ground move farther away as the copter rose into the air. Hero sat calmly beside him, unfazed by the loud noise and the extreme heights.
Hero had ridden in a helicopter many times when he’d been on the job with Ben’s dad. Ben, however, had only flown in one once before, when he and Hero were rescued from the woods after the hurricane. But he had barely noticed the flight that time. This time he was aware that it was a lot less like flying in a plane—and a lot more like riding a roller coaster—than he had expected. His stomach swooped and rolled as the aircraft tilted to head north, rising as it went.
Ben’s dad’s cell phone had pinged at the far northern end of the woods—the same woods where Ben and Hero had spent so much time together.
Ben surveyed the land below. What if his dad was down there somewhere? What if they were flying over him right that second?
Ben pushed the worry out of his mind. They were on their way and they were doing the best they could do. He looked over at Perillo. She was staring at a tablet in her hand, reviewing communications with the rest of the search team and a map of where she and Ben were headed.
She gave him a thumbs-up and spoke into the microphone attached to her headset. Her voice came through Ben’s headphones. “We’ll be there in just a few minutes. We’re landing a couple of miles from the site. Then we have to hike in. You good?”
Ben n
odded in reply and turned back to the window. His stomach was getting used to the motion of the helicopter, and he started to relax.
Hero scooted over and rested his muzzle on the window, his wet nose pressed against the glass. They sat like that for the rest of the flight, Ben’s hand on Hero’s neck. He ran his fingers through Hero’s silky fur.
As he often did, Ben wondered what Hero was thinking at that moment. There was no way Hero understood the details of what was happening—that Ben’s dad had been taken by two escaped convicts who were probably armed and definitely dangerous. But Ben had no doubt that Hero understood, on some level, that Sergeant Landry was in trouble. Hero knew that Ben’s dad needed him—that the whole family needed him. All of Hero’s training and all of the powerful instincts he had honed over the years made him amazingly attuned not just to smells and sights and sounds, but to emotions too.
The helicopter hovered over a wide clearing near the edge of the national forest. Stretching out ahead of them as far as Ben could see was a blanket of thick foliage and dense treetops.
“I’m going to put her down now,” the pilot said into the communication system. “Hang on.”
Ben’s stomach flipped as the helicopter moved rapidly downward, but the landing was smoother than he’d expected. They dropped right into the middle of the clearing and touched down gently.
Perillo unbuckled herself quickly while Ben fumbled with the straps. He jogged out of the helicopter after her. Hero bounded out ahead of them both and ran in a wide circle, sniffing at the ground. His movements were quick and jumpy—almost frantic. He picked his head up to listen and sniff at the air, then dropped his nose back down again. He skittered a few steps in one direction, then another.
Dirt flew up in little puffs around his paws as the helicopter blades churned behind them.
Ben had never seen Hero like this before. Like he always did, Hero was tracking and cataloging the thousands of scents he was picking up, but there was something else going on too. Ben watched as Hero’s ears went up and his head swung around toward one sound, then another. He saw Hero’s muzzle twitch and his eyes cast about, unable to rest on one sight. Ben crouched down.
Rescue Mission Page 3
