by John Grit
Deni barked a series of orders over the air, starting with Foster. “Get your men outside and search the area around the house. Look for a blood trail – anything.”
Capt. Donovan broke in after she requested that the entire neighborhood be cordoned off. “We’re on it, Sergeant. Get to the scene and supervise, while I make sure no vehicle gets out of the area and no one sneaks out on foot.”
“Yes sir,” Deni said.
Racing down the last street, they were hindered by groups of alarmed and angry people in various stages of dress, almost all of them armed. A few carried kerosene lanterns. The driver laid on the horn and yelled out of the window, “Get out of the way. The killer’s making tracks while you’re wasting our time here. Get out of the damn way!”
“Stop!” Deni yelled. She jumped out and addressed the gathering crowd. “A mother has been murdered, and we believe a little girl has been kidnapped.”
Several people moaned, “No! Not again.”
Deni raised her voice. “Everyone. Quiet!” People continued to talk. “Shut up and listen!” The crowd quieted down. “First, no one leave any family members alone and unarmed. Make certain that all of your children are guarded. Once your family is secure, I need a dozen people to go that way.” She pointed to her left, down the street. “And a dozen more to go this way.” She pointed to her right. “See anyone with a little girl in tow, hold him for questioning.”
“Hold him, hell,” a man in the back of the crowd yelled.
“Just hold him until we get there,” Deni warned. “Don’t go killing everyone with a little girl! You’re more likely to kill the wrong man than the one we want.” She reiterated, “Just hold him until we get there. Once we’re sure we have the right man, he’ll get what’s coming to him, I promise.”
The crowd began to thin as people headed to their families, while single adults with no children headed down the street to do what Deni had asked. She jumped back in the HUMVEE. “Let’s go.”
The driver laid on the horn and took off.
When she got to the house, Deni found Chesty and Tyrone already there, searching for clues. Chesty had a lantern. The rest of the house was dark but for soldiers with flashlights.
Standing in a bedroom, Chesty’s face looked distorted because of the angle of the light hitting him from below his face. When Deni walked in, he looked up from a photo he was examining. “Looks like a mother and daughter living alone. The mother’s lying near the back door, dead. The little girl’s missing.”
Deni nodded. He wasn’t telling her much she didn’t already know. “There’s a chance the girl’s still alive, but we don’t have much time.”
Chesty handed her a photo. “Must be the girl we’re looking for. It’s probably more than a year old, though. She’ll be about eight, older than the other victims.”
She looked at it and handed it to Tyrone, who also committed the image to memory.
Chesty moved out of the bedroom into the hall. “The killer forced the backdoor, with his shoulder it looks like. There’s no sign he used a pry bar or other tool. The only damage is where it splintered around the lock.”
Deni followed. She looked down at the woman’s body that was lying on the kitchen floor in a wide puddle of blood. “Wearing night clothes. She must have been woken up and came to investigate the sound of him beating the door open.”
The victim appeared to be in her thirties. Family photos she had seen in the bedroom told Deni she had lost a lot of weight since the plague. She noticed something sticking out from under the body. “Help me turn her over.”
Chesty bent down and turned the body on its side, revealing a butcher knife.
“She had a knife,” Deni said. “The intruder got the door open and shot her when she tried to protect her daughter.”
Tyrone was disgusted. “Why the hell didn’t she have a gun?”
“Might not have believed in them, or some such nonsense,” Chesty said. “Cost her her life and maybe her daughter’s.”
Deni stood. “I’m no cop, but I’m wondering if this is our child killer. This guy’s got more spine than the little girl hunter.”
“True,” Tyrone said. “But we have a missing girl.”
She raised an eyebrow. “And we have to find her, ASAP.”
Chesty looked sick. “God, I hate to think we might have two crazies to deal with.”
A soldier walked in and addressed Deni. “Sergeant. There’s a civilian outside with a German shepherd. He says the dog is trained to track.”
In seconds, everyone was outside on the front lawn.
A tall, thin man in denim coveralls stood in the street, a large German shepherd sat patiently next to him, panting and looking around at the crowd with calm interest. The man had him on a leash, but it appeared to not be needed, as the dog sat waiting his master’s command. He spoke when Deni and the others approached him. “Before the plague, I trained dogs to search for children lost in wilderness areas.” He swallowed. “I had to euthanize all but one of my dogs, couldn’t feed them all. That was one of the worst days of my life. Anyway, you let me in the house so he can get the scent, Shep here will track the killer for you.”
Chesty was doubtful. “Can it single out the killer’s scent from all the other people who’ve been in and around the house?”
The man nodded. “Sure.”
He had Deni’s attention. “What’s your name?”
“Jack Taylor,” the man said.
“Come with me. I want you to track a little girl.”
“Yeah,” Tyrone said. “Give the dog a whiff of her clothes.”
“Okay,” Jack gave the leash a gentle tug, and the dog stood. “Come on, Shep. We have a lost girl to find.” The dog yelped and became excited, looking up at his master, breathing heavy and coiled to take action. “Only thing,” Jack warned, “Shep’s going to have a problem tracking over asphalt, so I hope she stays on dirt. The oil on the street messes up a dog’s ability to smell.”
“Well, do what you can,” Chesty said. “A killer has run off with a kid.”
“Come on, Shep,” Jack said, and they all rushed into the house.
Deni led Jack into the girl’s bedroom. Jack yanked the pillowcase off the girl’s pillow and said, “Find her, Shep! Find the little girl!” He held the pillowcase against the dog’s snout. Shep grew excited and pulled at the leash, heading out into the hall, past the dead mother, and out the backdoor.
“I’ll stay here,” Tyrone said. “In case you need me to circle around in front with a vehicle.”
A military helicopter arrived and circled overhead. Deni got on the radio and informed the pilot what they were up to.
The dog didn’t hesitate, plunging ahead and across the yard behind the victims’ home, straining at the leash. Jack took advantage of Shep’s abilities and ran to keep up. The others followed along behind.
Shep never barked but whined excitedly, eager to drive on, and Jack struggled to let him close on the girl as fast as possible. When they reached the next street, Shep stopped and sniffed the asphalt.
“Has he lost the trail?” Deni asked, worried the hunt was already over.
Jack urged the dog on. “Find the girl, Shep.” After ten seconds of Shep sniffing at asphalt and looking bewildered, Jack pulled on the leash. “Come on, Shep.” He led his dog to the other side of the street and gave him slack on the leash. Shep worked back and forth excitedly in ever increasing arcs. His whining picked up and he took off across the yard of the next house over.
The hunt ended in the carport of what appeared to be an empty house. The dog kept walking in circles, sniffing at the concrete and whining. No amount of coaxing from Jack could change the fact his dog had lost the scent trail. The disappointment on the dog’s face appeared to equal Jack’s.
Without a word, Chesty kicked the front door down. His shotgun ready, he yelled into the dark house, “Sheriff Department. Anyone in there needs to come out with his hands up!”
Deni illuminated the
interior with a powerful combat light attached to her carbine. It was powered by lithium batteries that can be stored ten years and the Army still had plenty of them in their supply line. “Come out with your hands up!” she yelled.
No answer.
Jack knelt beside his dog. “Is there anyone in there, Shep?”
The dog looked at its master and whined but didn’t move. Instead, it sat down.
“Nobody in there,” Jack said. “Shep would know if there was. He’d smell ‘em.”
Not taking Jack or his dog’s word, Deni and Chesty endured many tense moments and carefully cleared the house. Deni’s superior training showed, but Chesty had been to several state law enforcement classes and did his part.
Deni emerged from the house appearing dejected. “See if you can get your dog to pick up the trail again. We have to find that girl.”
“I already have,” Jack said. “The girl got into a car.”
Deni nervously rubbed her forehead. “You sure? How can you tell?”
“This isn’t the first time Shep and I’ve been at this,” Jack answered. “She got into a car of some kind, and she’s too young to drive, so she wasn’t alone. In fact, the way Shep was acting while on the trail, I would say the killer was with her. There was certainly more than one person.”
Chesty swore under his breath. “Last time he got away on a motorcycle. At least we think so.” He thought of something. “Can you go back to the crime scene and get your dog to follow the killer’s trail? More than likely it’ll be the same as the girl’s.”
“Sure, but like you said, the killer took her. It’ll be a waste of time because the trail will lead us right back here.”
“Hold on.” Deni thought for a second. “Nothing about this matches the other killer. Something else is going on here.” She shook her head as if to clear it. “Whatever. Forget that for now. We have to find the girl.”
“The perimeter is our last hope,” Chesty said. “Just pray he didn’t manage to get out of the area before your soldiers and the townspeople bottled him up. If not, he’s long gone and that girl is lost.”
“It’s going to be a long night and day. Every house within the perimeter will have to be searched, one by one.” Deni contacted her superiors by radio and gave a situation report.
After she had signed off, Jack spoke up. “Shep will make it faster. He can smell if she has been in a house. He can smell her scent where she got out of the car and walked in, of course, but he can even tell if she’s been in a house recently, even if he doesn’t catch where she got out of a car.”
“Will you stay and help?” Chesty asked.
“Sure. Glad to.”
“Thanks,” Chesty said. “We appreciate it.”
They were interrupted by a bright spotlight from down the street. The spotlight was instantly aimed in another direction to stop blinding them. A HUMVEE approached and slowed to a stop. Donovan got out. “Sorry about the light. My driver needed to ID you. Is this where the trail ends?”
“Yes sir,” Deni answered. “We fear the killer may have gotten out of the area before the perimeter was cordoned off.”
“Let’s hope not,” Donovan said. “I have more people on the perimeter now, so he’ll not get past us. We have teams searching homes as we speak and every vehicle gets searched before passing our roadblocks. If he’s still in the area, we’ll find that girl and him both.”
“Any trouble with the civilians complaining about Posse Comitatus?” Chesty asked. “Some people won’t like the idea of the Army being involved in law enforcement.”
“We just tell them a kid’s been taken and they cooperate,” Donovan answered. “Since the plague most people are so desperate for help they don’t worry about that stuff. We’ve been acting as law enforcement since not long after everything went to hell.”
Distant gunshots interrupted their conversation. Everyone instinctively flinched and ducked down behind cover. A burst of full auto fire told them it was likely soldiers had just shot someone.
Donovan ran for the HUMVEE, barking orders to the driver. “Get me there, now!” He jumped in and was on the radio as soon as he hit the seat.
Deni and Chesty moved out of the street onto the lawn. They had left their vehicles behind and couldn’t follow.
Jack pulled his dog out of the way. “I hope that girl doesn’t get caught in the fighting and take a bullet.”
Deni saw a group of three men running toward them. “The shooting might not have anything to do with the killer and the girl.” She looked down the street expectantly. “I wonder what this is.”
Chesty followed her gaze and saw them for the first time. The men were yelling something, but he couldn’t make it out. “Something’s up,” he said, and ran toward the men.
The others followed.
As they got closer, Deni could make out their words. They were saying something about a girl.
One of the men yelled, “We found her! She’s okay.”
Deni ran up to the men. Nearly out of breath, she asked, “What about the man who took her?”
One of the other men answered, “She was alone. The guy let her go.”
Deni and Chesty’s eyes met, relief and puzzlement on their face.
“Did she give you a description of the man?” Chesty asked.
“Yeah,” one of the men answered. “He’s her father.”
~~~
Donovan looked through the HUMVEE’s windshield. Three soldiers searched a pickup. A man’s bloody body lay motionless in the street only five feet away from the open pickup door.
“Had to fire,” one soldier said. “It looked to me like he wanted to die. He fired at me but wasn’t really aiming. I wasn’t going to take a chance, so I put him down.”
Donovan nodded. “Where’s the girl?”
“No girl. He was alone.”
“What?” Donovan looked in the cab of the pickup without thinking. Worry washed over his face. “He must’ve killed her already.” He looked for blood in the back of the truck.
Deni’s voice came over the radio. “We have the girl. She’s alive and unharmed.”
Confusion replaced worry on Donovan’s face. “What’re we dealing with here?” His question was directed at no one and no one offered an answer.
A HUMVEE came racing up. Deni jumped out. “The girl says it was her father who killed her mother and took her.”
“So this is a domestic thing?” Donovan asked.
“Well,” Deni said, “the couple had been estranged for years. The girl says her father was always pestering her mother to take him back. He showed up tonight and broke in. Looks like he planned to kill his wife from the beginning. He may have been planning to kill his daughter, too, but changed his mind and dropped her off.” Disgust washed over her face. “Who knows? Anyway, I had doubts from the start this was our girl killer; too much about this crime didn’t match his MO.”
Donovan looked at the dead man lying in the street. “Damn. The idiot should have been grateful he didn’t lose his wife and daughter in the plague.”
Deni remembered Donovan telling her he had lost his family early on, when the plague first hit the Eastern U.S.
Donovan directed his attention to Deni. “I’m glad the girl’s okay, but after all of this, we still have a nut out there hunting little girls.”
Chapter 20
Nate stood naked at a window and looked out into the dark night onto a street glistening from an earlier shower, reflecting the light of a dim moon. He felt a small hand on the back of his neck – massaging – as light as weightlessness, alternating into strong pressure and back to weightlessness, then two hands, flitting across his sun-darkened skin to his impossibly large shoulders, and pressing the worry-born kinks out. This was a mistake, he thought. Like feeding a hungry stray dog, it’ll come back to bite us both. It’s too human. And human beings are too weak to live in a lawless post-plague world.
“Stop worrying,” Deni whispered in his ear. “It’s already been d
one now. Worry won’t undo it.”
He turned and touched her face in the dark, cradling it in both his rough hands. He could tell she was smiling.
“I have to go,” she said.
He heard her turn, felt her leaving the room. It felt as though something had already sucked the oxygen out of it. For a moment, it felt as though the dying air would suffocate him. But he couldn’t allow it. He rushed to catch up, reached out and pulled her close, holding her in the dark. He heard her breath catch as their bodies pressed together.
A woman’s love made a man softer, tempering the steel in him, leaving it less like a hard, brittle file with sharp teeth that rasped and cut into anything that came too close; but being soft, being human, could be a liability in a world ruled by the claw and tooth.
He remembered the bewilderment in Brian’s eyes when he became much harder and colder, as the sickness took first his mother and then his little sister. He could tell that Brian was wondering if he had lost his father, too. He remembered wishing there was some way he could tell him the change was about keeping him alive, not loving him less. In fact, all the love for his wife and daughter had become directed at Brian, as well as the love he already had for his son. He didn’t love him less; he loved him even more. To survive, Brian had to mature and become as hard as the new world around him. As his father, it fell on his shoulders to force a little boy who had led a relatively easy life to become a man strong enough to take anything. Even as he saw the change, he felt pangs of regret. Watching innocence – his boy – die was painful, though it was vital, if a man was to be born. Only a man could survive.
“I have to go,” Deni said.
“I know.” He didn’t release his hold on her.
She laughed. “Am I supposed to wrestle my way out of your big arms?”
“Be careful out there,” he warned. “Don’t let this weaken you. It’s still dangerous. Death is lurking, waiting for an opening.”
She stiffened. “How could this weaken me?”
“Keep your mind on staying alive, not us.”
“Uh, okay. I wish you’d stop worrying. As if you’ve done something wrong by being close to me. This doesn’t put me in danger. I really don’t understand why you think it does.”
