Canine Cupids for Cops

by Deirdre O'Dare

  He’d always hated closed dark spaces. Although he’d learned to control the worst of his phobia, he felt clammy sweat break out on his body and had to fight the urge to slam against the walls and door in hopes of finding some way to break free. However, it could be worse. He was not bound or trussed up. Steadying himself with a few deep slow breaths, he pushed up from the floor where Alesandro’s shove had sent him sprawling. He found he could stand and move a step in either direction. A long arm’s length to the rear, he felt a wall.

  * * * *

  Perry almost stayed longer than he should have, considering he had another split shift to work. He drove a little faster than normal when he headed back to Riata. Julio had given him a lot to think about. Really, the only question now was how much to pursue while he was on duty and what might be better done privately, out of uniform and in his own vehicle.

  He parked in the usual spot and let himself in through the back door, expecting to find Ike in the kitchen. The house was empty. Both dogs came to greet him, Badger clearly aggrieved that he had left her home and the little red guy simply wanting some attention. From the looks of things, Ike had not been back since he left that morning. Since it was now past midafternoon, worry began to gnaw in Perry’s gut.

  Had he hurt the other man, scared him, offended him? Although he’d thought he was learning what to expect from Ike, he realized how little he really knew about him. Ike seemed quiet, easy-going, and laid back. He rarely took exception to anything. Perhaps, though, that was just a survival mechanism he’d developed to make it through his years in prison. Now that he was free, would he cut and run if things did not go as he felt they should?

  No. Perry shook his head. Ike would never leave Rojo. If he’d taken off, the dog would surely be gone, too. Still, he walked down the hall and looked into Ike’s room. Everything was tidy, bed neatly made and clothes—not many but the extra jeans and shirts he’d bought recently—folded carefully and stacked on the old table. He hadn’t left. From all the signs, Perry felt sure of it.

  He had to get into uniform and head out. Maybe he’d swing by Dot’s and see if Ike was there. Something might have come up so Ike volunteered to stay longer than usual. Yeah, that had to be what had happened. He told himself he was reassured as he hurried to dress, grab his gear, and head out. At the back door, he paused, debating. Should he leave Badger to keep the littler dog company or take her, as usual?

  “What do you want to do, Badger girl? You can stay here and babysit if you want to. I think I’ll be okay.”

  She sat, head tilted a few degrees as her tail fanned a slow arc on the wooden floor. The smaller dog edged up beside her, bright eyes as intent on Perry’s face as hers were.

  “I can’t take you both,” Perry said. “Badger’s kind of official, but, little guy, you’re not. I’m not sure how you’d behave or if you’d try to sneak out and run off. Ike would kick my ass if I lost you.”

  The small dog whined, very softly. All at once, Perry had the strong sense something was wrong. Ike hadn’t had the pup very long, but they’d built a real bond. The dog sensed something. In his gut, Perry did, too. Ike was in trouble.

  “Come on.” The instant he opened the door, both dogs dashed out past him, heading straight for the official SUV. Well, that takes care of that. He opened the door on the driver’s side and they both jumped in, Badger with her usual easy hop and the little guy with a powerful bound. Badger took her usual place on the passenger side, while the smaller dog crouched beside her, wedging his body tightly against hers.

  “You keep him in line, girl. It’s your responsibility.”

  Badger just gave him a look. You know you don’t have to tell me that, written all over her face.

  He went to Dot’s first. No, Ike was not there, and Marco had not seen him.

  “He was gonna come in about two,” the injured vet said, “but he never showed. Not like him. Ike’s reliable.”

  Perry nodded. “Yep. I have a bad feeling that something has happened. I wish I knew where to start looking.”

  Marco hesitated a breath. “Can’t help you. Well, there was one thing. About the time Ike was due to get here, I heard a car come down the alley. I was elbow deep in dishwater, and by the time I went over and looked out, it had gone on by. Shiny black SUV with the darkest fuckin’ windows I ever seen.”

  The one that passed me, going up to Esperanza. The time would be about right. Oh boy, Ike is prob’ly in deep shit.

  “Thanks, Marco. That’s exactly what I needed to find out.” He wheeled around and almost ran back to his unit. Time to go up the Esperanza road again. Given what Julio had told him, he knew where to begin his search.

  Chapter 7

  Shortly before Perry reached the Esperanza town site, he found a faint track leading off from the main road. He pulled into it and followed the dim mark around behind a clump of bushes and scrubby juniper trees. There, he parked. It was a warm day for December, so he rolled the windows down about a quarter of the way. Badger would not try to get out if they were halfway down or more, but he wasn’t sure about Ike’s dog. He didn’t want either of them running loose while he did some reconnaissance.

  Creeping along with all the stealth he could command, he left the car, crossing to the other side of the main road while no traffic was in sight. Then he worked his way along, drawing closer to the row of occupied houses. He did his best to remain unseen. Near the edge of the open area that marked the limits of the new town, he stopped, concealed behind the last thick foliage. The sun was sliding down as the afternoon waned. Soon it would vanish behind the rugged peaks to the west. Maybe he’d see something while the light was still strong.

  The two closest houses seemed deserted. Probably the men who lived there were out patrolling the mine. Perhaps they had no families. The mining company seemed to prefer that. He knew at least two watchmen were on duty all the time and were supposed to make rounds of the main area, which was about fifty acres, at least every hour, partly on ATVs and some on foot. It was very quiet. A bird chirped near him. Then a distant dog barked twice. Silence until he caught the faint sound of raised voices. The noise seemed to come from the third house, next door to where Ike’s cousin Carlos Lopez lived. A woman came out on the porch of that house, looked around, and then stomped inside again, clearly unhappy about something.

  Beyond that stood another quiet house and then the one where Julio lived. This time, Perry would not go near it. He hoped no one had paid much attention to his earlier visit for he certainly did not want his friend to come to any harm. If some of the bad guys figured him for a snitch, things could go south in a hurry.

  Damn, he couldn’t quite make out the shouted words, much less identify the voices. Perhaps he wouldn’t recognize any of them anyway, but he wished he could get closer. Just then, a slender, neatly dressed man stepped out onto the front porch. He wore sport slacks, a golf shirt, and a light jacket. His voice came clearly.

  “No, we’ll do it my way, Carlos. I’ve heard enough from you. Although your son may be my primo bodyguard, that gives you no authority. The man will stay where he is for now.” He turned as if to reenter. “Miguel, drive back down to town and bring up a small amount of the regular stuff. We’ll leave it with our deceased friend when we go. It will simply look like a deal gone bad.”

  Perry heard some grumbling words, but then nothing more. The slender man went inside and a shorter, husky one soon emerged from the back. He walked to the ramshackle shed and opened the double doors. After he disappeared inside, Perry soon heard the sound of a vehicle starting. The black SUV with the dark windows pulled out and headed down the road. It passed his hiding place about fifteen feet away and continued on toward the highway. This time, he got the license number. It had a New Mexico plate, one of the new centennial turquoise colored ones.

  He’d heard enough. Whether “the man” referred to Ike or not, the group clearly had a prisoner they planned to kill and leave with some drugs. As he headed to the unit, he did not t
ry to be stealthy. Once away from the edge of the clearing, he jogged to where he’d left the county SUV. His first act was to get on the radio. In this canyon, reception wasn’t the best, but he got the important facts through. He needed backup as soon as possible up at Esperanza to assist in a drug bust. No red lights and sirens, but speed was critical. With any luck, they’d capture some drug dealers, perhaps even a moderately significant man in the cartel hierarchy. And I might save Ike. I know he’s the prisoner, I just know it.

  Needs and wishes pulled him two ways. He wanted to return to where he could watch the house and listen, maybe intervene, but he also needed to meet the other deputies and officers as they arrived and work out a game plan. He felt sure that even if one had left, several people remained in the house. Even if he saw Ike or learned for sure that he was there and in danger, it would be a damn fool stunt to charge in, one man and one gun against an enemy whose number and firepower were not known. He wanted to, though, more than anything. Surely Ike was in danger, and Ike was coming to mean a great deal to him.

  * * * *

  Ike assessed the dimensions of his temporary prison. He didn’t like the feeling of being trapped. Despite the crawling fear, he knew he needed to learn all he could about the space. It could spell the difference between life and death.

  The cramped cubby was clearly a closet. There was a metal pipe rod about shoulder high. To one side, he found some wire hangers. A couple of them held garments that felt like jackets. They were full of dust. He stifled a sneeze when his movements shook it into the air. Past that, there was a wall. He tried to orient himself to the way the house sat. It faced the southwest, so the rear door must be to the northeast. Retracing the path he’d been forced along, he decided the room in which the closet sat was on the northwest corner. He pressed a hand against the wall. It felt cool, almost cold. Since the other sides were warmer, this must be an outside wall.

  Although he didn’t really expect to find an escape, he felt over the wall inch by inch. Most of it seemed rough, like crude plaster. That was how the whole house appeared to be finished. As he ran fingertips along, he came to a wooden frame. Inside it, the surface was smoother. Glass, he guessed, but painted over. The window was not large, maybe a foot wide and a foot and a half high. It would be a tight squeeze to get out but in a pinch, perhaps he could. He thanked the powers that he wasn’t handcuffed or bound. These drug dealers seemed to be over-confident.

  Having learned all he could for the time being, he slid down to sit on the floor, his back to one of the inside walls. Although there had been muffled conversation most of the time he’d been in the closet, he had only been able to make out a word here and there. Now raised voices made listening much easier.

  One of the men, he thought the one with the pistol, wanted to shoot him now. The slender man’s distinct cool and almost formal voice replied. “No, it’s too soon. A shot might draw attention we don’t want. We’ll be ready to leave the drugs here on the floor, and the car will be running at the rear door. That’s when we shoot him.”

  Well, this sounds like the end of the road for me. Fuck. I would have liked to stay around and get to know Perry, maybe gradually work up to a better job and gain some respect again. Guess I’ve been living on pipe dreams and borrowed time.

  He didn’t hear much more conversation, but soon, he did hear a vehicle start up and drive away. It sounded like the powerful engine of the SUV they’d used to bring him here. Maybe he had a reprieve until the car and its driver returned unless the thugs had another one stashed nearby.

  As the sound of the vehicle faded, he caught Chivo’s—Carlos’—whiny tones. Although the words were not clear, he recognized the voice. The guy had talked that way as a teenager, when Ike had still been just a kid. Even then, in retrospect, Chivo had had a mean streak and bullied the younger kids.

  He heard footsteps as if someone were pacing around, perhaps in the main room, just past the doorway to this one, probably once a bedroom.

  The boss’s voice came again, clear now. “No. Go home, Carlos. You don’t need to see or hear anything more. You did your job, and you’ll be rewarded once this is over. Your wife will be getting worried by now. You don’t want her calling anyone. I don’t know what you’ve told her, but I know how wives are. My own Estella is wise enough to mind her own business and enjoy the lifestyle I provide her. For now, go home and stay inside until tomorrow. When they show up, you can tell the cops you heard a shot or anything you want to say. It won’t matter then, but you can say you didn’t see anything, don’t know anything, and you won’t be lying too much.”

  A grumble, more steps, and a door slamming. Then everything got quiet. Rising again, Ike felt around the window once more. He got the small knife he carried out of his jeans pocket. They had not even patted him down. Dumb crooks.

  Very gingerly, he began to pry and pick at that frame. The wood was old and splintery. Maybe he could get the window loose. He had to be quiet, but he persisted. Finally, there was enough of a crack that a bit more light filtered in and a whisper of colder air. Night would come soon. Darkness might be his friend. He made a last effort to dig a little more and then pry. The window shifted with a screechy noise.

  “What was that?” The voice came from outside, maybe even in the bedroom. Close, too close. Ike sucked in a breath and held it, trying not to move a muscle.

  “Oh, quit worrying. Probably a cat or something outside. Sit down. Miguel’ll be back soon, and we can get this project finished.” That was the slender man, the boss. More footsteps, but they grew softer and soon quit.

  * * * *

  By the time reinforcements began to arrive, dusk had fallen. Soon there were too many official vehicles to readily be concealed where Perry had parked, but they managed to get them all at least off the road and partly hidden behind brush. As dusk deepened, that might do.

  Perry filled in the two Alamo deputies, the state patrol officer, and a homeland security guy on what he had observed and guessed so far. He didn’t mention Ike. Somehow, that didn’t seem germane. If, by some odd chance, Ike really was the mysterious El Feo, he didn’t want to know and did not want anyone else to make the connection until it had to be accepted.

  Before they started walking on toward the row of houses, Badger whined. She sensed something was going to happen and wanted to take her part in it.

  Mike Martinez, another deputy, glanced Perry’s way. “Hell, Parker, let your dog come along. She might be able to help. She’s not a drug sniffer, but that’s one smart dog. I’ve seen her work. And she’s got those bulldog jaws, just like a steel trap.”

  With some misgivings, Perry agreed. Badger jumped out and then Ike’s little mutt did, too, before he could grab it. “Shit. If anything happens to that dog, Ike’ll kill me.” If he’s able to.

  Badger obeyed Perry’s quiet command to heel. She fell in step just outside and behind his left foot. The little dog streaked off and disappeared. Perry didn’t even know how to call him back. The fat was in the fire there. He’d just have to put that out of his mind for now.

  Acting on the rudimentary plan they’d devised, the officers fanned out so they could approach the house from every side. It was dark now, and only one dim light shone inside. It looked like some kind of lantern in the kitchen area, just inside the back porch. Perry crept as close as he dared and looked into the nearest dirty window.

  The well-dressed slender man sat in one of the wooden chairs beside a scarred table. A battery-powered lantern sat close to his left hand, the light shining on a pistol, a semi-auto. Judging by the size and shape, Perry labeled it a Glock 9mm. Almost outside the range of his vision, another man sat against the wall, facing the back door. He held either a rifle or a shotgun across his knees. Through the dirty window, Perry couldn’t tell. Badger squatted at his feet, easing back when Perry did into the protective darkness. The houses on either side were dark and seemed to be empty, even Chivo’s, but whether or not anyone watched he had no way to tell.


  Finally, all the officers were in place. There was one local officer for each of the house’s four sides. The Fed had assumed command. Even if Perry didn’t like that, it wasn’t worth getting upset about. As an outsider, the man didn’t know the area or the culture, but it probably wouldn’t make any difference.

  Soft owl-sounds came from each side of the house to indicate everyone was in place. The Fed lifted a portable loud speaker and hollered. It was so loud Perry almost jumped. “You’re surrounded. Leave the weapons and come out. “

  Perry edged toward the back door, his service pistol cocked and ready. Mike reached from the opposite side to open the door. Now Perry could see clearly. The slender man stood. He glanced down at the pistol on the table before he took a step, keeping his hands in plain sight. He started for the door, walking with measured steps. His expression was bland and impassive. Perry could see the man didn’t intend to do anything to get himself shot. Likely, he’d been busted before and probably would be bailed out within hours after any arrest. The middle echelons of the cartel had that kind of protection. He’d be back to Mexico long before a trial date was set.

  Just then, the little red dog scooted past Perry, darting into the house so fast he looked like a rusty streak. Where had the damned mutt been? What was he up to now? The dog almost tripped the guy with the long gun as he lunged up out of the chair. It was a shotgun, short-barreled and large caliber. An ugly weapon. As soon as the first man cleared the door, the guy cut loose with it, both barrels. Perry moved aside in time. He’d already sensed what was going to happen. So did the other deputy. Buckshot rattled against the plastered walls and scattered into the yard.

  A single shot from the front of the house put the hood on the floor. He wasn’t dead and probably not in immediate threat of death, but the shotgun slid from his hands and spun across the floor.

  So far, this was too easy. There had to be someone else in the house. When he’d been spying earlier, he thought there were at least five people here. One had driven off in the black SUV and they had two. That left at least two unaccounted for, the prisoner for one, but who was the other?