Scent of Murder

by James O. Born

  The deputy reached for his pistol, but Slaton already had the Beretta in his hand. He swung it toward the surprised deputy, ignoring the Golden Retriever, even as it approached.

  At the same time, Michelle let out a scream. Everything weighed down on him at once when all he wanted to do was aim the pistol and fire.

  * * *

  Darren instinctively released the lead as he reached for his Glock and Brutus tugged hard. Slaton already had a pistol in his hand, but he was in an awkward position coming through the boards.

  Darren stepped to one side as Slaton’s pistol came on target. Then he saw Brutus, who had never shown any aggressive tendencies and had not been trained, charge Slaton, even distracting him with a snarl as he sprang into the air. He hit the fat man just as the pistol fired, and the muzzle flash filled Darren’s vision. He heard a second shot.

  The first bullet struck him in the upper chest and immediately knocked the wind out of him, as well as sending what felt like a strong electrical charge through every nerve ending in his upper body. The force of the bullet was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, and he dropped backward with the pistol still in his hand. Then he felt a jolting pain in his neck and didn’t know if it was a side effect of the first round or if the second round struck him.

  The last thing he noted before his vision faltered was Brutus latched on to Slaton’s left arm.

  * * *

  Slaton fired twice at the deputy as the goddamn dog knocked him backward. Then he felt the searing pain as the yellow dog dug his teeth into his left forearm. He had held up the arm to fend off the dog, but had no idea how much it would hurt.

  He panicked and squeezed the trigger of the Beretta. The first shot had no effect on the snarling hound. The second time the dog yelped and released its grip, but Slaton still felt a pain in his hand, and blood was pouring from his arm. It only took him a second to realize that not only had the dog ripped up his arm, but the bullet had passed right through the dog and struck Slaton’s hand.

  The dog was now on the ground whimpering, and the deputy was flat on his back. This was not the time for Slaton to feel sorry for himself. He had to get the hell out of Dodge. Now.

  45

  A shooting happens completely out of context to most people’s lives, even cops. It is a rare and devastating occurrence. Those were the words from training that popped into Tim Hallett’s head when he heard the shots and saw Darren go down.

  Instantly he aimed his Glock and started to scoot in a sideways crab walk toward Darren, keeping his pistol up and pointed at the building where the shots had come from. He didn’t dare release Rocky for fear he would charge the shooter. This could be considered contrary to his training, which taught that dogs are tools to protect people. But Hallett wasn’t about to let his partner go.

  As he cleared the side of the small boarded-up building, he caught a glimpse of Bill Slaton squeezing through another hole in the fence. He could also see Brutus was on the ground, whimpering. With every fiber in his body, he wanted to stop Slaton, but his duty and his loyalty were clear.

  Rocky barked, then wailed at the sight of Brutus.

  Hallett kneeled down to check his friend’s pulse and see if he was breathing. Darren wasn’t quite conscious, and his eyes couldn’t focus. Hallett had seen these signs of shock in accident and shooting victims over the years. Before he started to unclip Darren’s vest and search for the wound, he grabbed Darren’s radio mic and made the call no cop wants to.

  Hallett recognized how close to panic he was. He had to get it together to broadcast a call for help that was clear and concise. He depressed the microphone button and spoke in a voice louder than he intended. “10-24, shots fired.” He gave their exact location. “We need immediate EMS.” The numbers alone—10-24, officer down—would keep unnecessary traffic off the radio and attract cops from every district. He dropped the radio mic and yanked on Darren’s vest before giving a suspect description. It would be a few minutes before anyone needed it anyway, and he had plenty to keep him busy at the moment.

  Darren didn’t make a sound.

  * * *

  Bill Slaton stumbled through the fence into a backyard covered with rotting, cracked plastic kids’ toys. He still had his Beretta, and he was trying to stay calm. He surveyed the area but didn’t see anyone and started to run, going through several backyards before turning toward the street in the quiet neighborhood. There he slowed down and started to walk along the cracked and uneven sidewalk. He knew a running fat man in this neighborhood would only draw attention.

  He sucked in a couple of big breaths and wiped the sweat from his eyes with his bare hand. He couldn’t believe what he had just done to get away from the scene. This was going to come back to bite him in the ass. The only question was what he would accomplish before some cop put a bullet in him.

  His left arm was covered with blood, and the bullet hole in his hand trailed blood along the sidewalk. Then he got hold of himself and realized there were plenty of cars along the street and he had a skill most people did not. He saw a Honda in front of the next house and stepped out onto the street to get to the driver’s side. He felt for his Buck knife inside his left pocket, wincing in pain as he jostled his injured hand.

  Slaton had to stick the gun back in his belt to use his right hand to hold the knife and use it to crack the window. The first strike had almost no effect. As he brought his hand back for the next one he heard someone call out, “What the hell are you doing?”

  Slaton’s head snapped up to see a tall, muscular Latin man with no shirt and a gun in his hand rushing out of the house.

  46

  Hallett could feel the pulse stabilize in Darren’s carotid artery. Now that he had the ballistic vest off and saw little blood, he realized the one bullet had struck the upper part of the vest. The second had splintered into his unprotected shoulder and neck. Claire had arrived and knew exactly what to do. She cut away the T-shirt, and they saw the discoloration of Darren’s upper chest where the bullet struck.

  Claire looked at Hallett and said, “I got this. Go find that asshole.”

  Hallett nodded, stood, and said, “Not just yet.” It was hard to step past Brutus, but he had to find Michelle Swirsky. He wanted to cry out when he saw the blood splashed along the yellow fur of the Golden Retriever. Brutus’s stomach was moving as he tried to breathe, but he didn’t have the strength to lift his head. His front left leg was injured, and his chest was bleeding.

  Now Hallett released Rocky, who immediately went to the injured dog and gently nudged Brutus’s head with his nose, then licked the wound on Brutus’s chest.

  Hallett cursed when he realized he wasn’t wearing a uniform and a ballistic vest and had no flashlight to pull off the tactical holder. He stuck his head in the building with the board ripped off of it and followed the beam of the small flashlight on the ground. Michelle Swirsky, wearing a blindfold, was tucked in the corner with her legs pulled in next to her.

  Hallett said clearly, “I’m a police officer, Michelle. Are you injured?”

  She sniffled but made no clear answer.

  He stepped all the way into the building, saying softly, “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re safe now.” Squatting next to her, Hallett fumbled with the blindfold until it pulled free of her long brown hair. She looked startled, and he remembered he wasn’t wearing a uniform. He also realized she wasn’t wearing any pants. This was one more sensory overload he didn’t need. He heard more cars pull up outside.

  Then Claire Perkins called his name and leaned into the building. “The paramedics have Darren.”

  He sighed with a slight relief.

  Now it was time to find Bill Slaton.

  * * *

  Rocky quickly scanned for any other threats, then took a moment to check his friend Brutus, who was hurt. Rocky tried to lick the yellow dog’s wounds. Brutus whimpered quietly. That wasn’t like him. Brutus never whimpered and was always the first to play rough when Rocky, Smarty, and Brutus
played together.

  Rocky looked up, trying to find the scent of the bad man on the wind. He was going to bite him. No matter what, Rocky had to bite the bad man hard.

  This was a feeling Rocky had never experienced before. This was no game and it was not fun. He thought he understood Tim a little better now.

  * * *

  Bill Slaton didn’t think he was technically panicked. He was functioning but recognized his heart rate and shallow breathing would catch up to him soon. This asshole with the gun didn’t make things easier.

  The man from the house didn’t raise the pistol but shouted, “Get away from that car.”

  Slaton didn’t look up from the window he was working on as he said, “Can’t do that. It’s an emergency.”

  That caught the man by surprise as he twisted up his face, then said, “Whatchu talking about, man? That’s my girlfriend’s car.” He still didn’t aim the pistol.

  Slaton might not have been an actual cop, but he could read people, and this guy was all show. If he meant business he would’ve come out of the house shooting. Slaton pulled the Beretta and casually fired three quick shots without aiming. The idea was to frighten the man away, but he was surprised to see the guy go down. Slaton didn’t have time to inspect his handiwork; he went back to focusing on getting into the car. He knew he didn’t have much time.

  The guy on the ground didn’t mean shit. Slaton had just shot a cop, how much worse could he make things? It was liberating in an odd way.

  * * *

  As soon as he was convinced there was enough help on scene, Tim Hallett moved toward the fence with Rocky, ready to give chase to Bill Slaton. Hallett had a badge on a chain around his neck, hoping that would slow any antsy deputy who saw him. But as he pushed through the ragged hole in the fence, he wished he was in uniform with his god-awful, heavy ballistic vest. There was no time to get it.

  Claire tended to the girl as Sergeant Greene and an extra paramedic did what they could for Brutus. When the young paramedic protested that he wasn’t paid to work on animals, the sergeant snapped, “You better stop the bleeding and stabilize him or you might not make it off the scene in one piece.”

  Hallett burst through the hole in the fence instead of making a careful tactical entry. He risked that Slaton had moved on. It was a safe bet. Hallett also wished he’d been smart enough to grab a portable radio, but as far as he knew there was no one here to help him yet.

  Rocky had a fresh scent and started to move into the backyard of the one-story house but stopped to nudge a plastic football like the one he played with at home. Without any encouragement from Hallett, the dog refocused on his job and was moving quickly through the backyard.

  Hallett had his Glock out, scanning the bushes and the corners of the houses as Rocky led him through several yards. This was a rare case where he didn’t give a warning that he was going to release his dog. Either he or Rocky was going to tear Slaton a new asshole.

  He thought about Darren and Brutus on the ground and said a silent prayer. A veteran once told him there was no room in police work for vengeance, but right now that was a difficult concept to grasp.

  Hallett heard three quick shots close by, and he picked up the pace. This was going to be over one way or the other in the next few minutes.

  47

  Claire used her sharp Gerber knife to cut the tape off Michelle’s hands, then quickly helped her get dressed in the privacy of the abandoned office. She left the stubby flashlight lying on the ground, as well as the blindfold and shredded tape. That was something the crime scene people could deal with. Claire knew it was more important to get Michelle to a safe, comfortable place like her Tahoe, rather than worry about keeping all the evidence in perfect order.

  Right in front of the building, Sergeant Greene and a paramedic comforted Brutus, who gave a faint pant. Her heart broke at the sight of the dog. She felt like his aunt. This sort of thing had never been covered in training.

  Not far away, more paramedics arrived and helped with Darren. There were so many grouped around him she couldn’t see her partner.

  No matter how much she wanted to be next to him, comforting Darren or helping Brutus, her duty was to this traumatized girl. She guided Michelle so she didn’t have to see too much of the carnage around her. Claire swallowed hard, trying not to let Michelle see how upset she was. This girl had been through enough already.

  * * *

  Hallett let Rocky pull him into the front yard and onto the sidewalk. He immediately saw a man on the ground in the next yard holding his hip. Slaton was standing next to a Honda, forcing the door open. He looked back at the man on the ground, and immediately Hallett worried that Slaton might shoot again. He couldn’t risk it. Hallett let Rocky go and moved into a position to take a shot himself.

  Neither Rocky nor Hallett made a sound, and Slaton didn’t look up until Rocky was next to the car. The fat probation officer raised his pistol just as Rocky launched himself. The dog flew into the air, parallel with the Honda’s roof. It was a true shock-and-awe maneuver.

  Rocky struck Slaton high and latched on to his left shoulder near his neck. He knocked the probation officer off balance, but somehow the man managed to stay on his feet.

  Hallett closed the distance in an instant and saw that Slaton still held the pistol in his right hand. Hallett had to shoot. He had no choice. He raised his Glock, realizing that Rocky was in the way. He’s just a tool. That’s all Hallett could think. He had no choice. He had to shoot.

  * * *

  Slaton sensed the dog before he heard the damn thing. It moved so fast and hit him so hard he had no chance to react. Jesus Christ, it was in his face. Then he felt the teeth dig in along his clavicle and literally saw stars. Now his left shoulder matched his mutilated left arm and hand. He was starting to really hate police service dogs.

  Slaton tried to raise the pistol, intending to either kill the dog or shoot Hallett, who was rushing toward him. All the dog could do was bite, but Hallett could shoot him.

  Blood squirted into his face, distracting him as the dog clamped down with a power he could barely comprehend.

  Somehow he was able to force his arm up and look down the barrel of his pistol.

  * * *

  Rocky saw the bad man near a vehicle, heard the loud noises, and knew the man was dangerous. But that didn’t matter right now. If he didn’t act, Tim would be in danger. Besides, this bad man had hurt his friend Brutus. He didn’t care how many loud things made noise, this bad man was about to get bitten. He had to keep Tim safe.

  Rocky charged along the ground without making a sound. Just before he leaped into the air, the man turned and saw him. That made the bad man move just enough for Rocky to miss his throat where he had aimed. Rocky’s teeth sank deep and solidly into the man.

  Rocky was surprised the bad man was still standing on his two legs. Rocky clamped down harder and let his body hang limp, hoping to pull the man off his feet.

  Rocky knew the man might be able to hurt him, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to hang on. Then he heard Tim close by. The next noise startled him.

  It was a loud thing.

  * * *

  Hallett ignored Slaton’s cry of pain and the spray of blood coming from his shoulder. Instead, he concentrated on the front sight of his Glock. Rocky swayed in front of Slaton like the balance of a grandfather clock ticking back and forth.

  He had no choice. Hallett squeezed the trigger. Once. Twice.

  Slaton’s gun fell to the ground.

  So did Rocky.

  48

  Claire had Michelle fully clothed again and sitting comfortably in her front seat. Michelle trembled and grasped for Claire every time she shifted in the seat, as if she might leave the area. When Claire looked out the window, she saw Sergeant Greene on her feet and barking orders over the radio. Claire could hear sirens coming from every direction. Some were close and some were far off, but there was no doubt that all of them were headed to this spot.

&n
bsp; Claire leaned out the window of the Tahoe but made sure Michelle knew she wasn’t leaving. As much as she wanted to back up Tim, again she had to realize her duty was this girl’s safety. She could see Darren move his head, and then he looked at the sergeant and croaked, “Brutus?”

  One of the paramedics tried to quiet Darren down. The paramedic looked up at the sergeant and said, “He’s in shock. It looks like his vest took one bullet, but it might’ve cracked his sternum. The other bullet fragmented into his shoulder and neck. We’ve gotta get him over to JFK right now.”

  Claire could appreciate how calm the sergeant stayed. As the only sergeant on the scene, she had a great deal to do. She glanced over at Claire and without saying a word, using only a facial expression, inquired about Michelle Swirsky sitting in the passenger seat. Claire gave her the okay sign with her fingers.

  The sergeant said, “I’m going after Tim and Slaton.” She wasted no time pulling her Glock from the holster on her hip and hustling toward the ragged hole in the fence.

  * * *

  Hallett stepped toward the open door of the Honda, his pistol on target. Bill Slaton was sprawled on the ground as blood pooled around him. His mouth opened and closed and he tried to say something, reminding Hallett of a snapper he once caught spearfishing. Hallett was in no mood to listen. He reached for the Beretta discarded on the street, picked it up, worked the de-cocking lever, and stuck it in the small of his back, secured by his belt.

  Rocky eased away from the fallen man, snarling the whole time. The dog’s face was covered in blood, but he didn’t appear to be injured himself.

  Hallett said, “Good boy. Kalmeren.” Telling the dog to calm down in Dutch seemed like the right thing to say. This was too much to happen in just one night. His head started to spin. Policy said he should give first aid to the injured man, but he had to check the victim lying on the lawn.

  Hallett backed away from Slaton’s twisted body and turned toward the man in the front yard. All he said as he approached him was, “How bad?”