Read Blind Seduction Online

Authors: T Hammond

Tags: #talking dog, #team bas, #team red

Blind Seduction (26 page)

 

“And, what is your objective for him learning those
scents?” Bas asked warily, from behind me.

 

“I’d be worried he might be injured if he’s sniffing
coke or stuff like that,” I added.

 

“Some of the evidence you two examine may contain
trace amounts of narcotics. If Red is able to identify what a
narcotic is, and even which specific drug he smells, it adds a new
weapon to your team arsenal.” He reached past me to scratch Red’s
ears (I could tell by the moan of joy), and said, “I’m in agreement
with the task force, our priority should be to reduce your risk by
limiting the times you and Red could be exposed to the public.
Kidnapping seems to be an overly dramatic worry, but you have a
very unique and valuable resource in your partnership. There is a
huge potential for exploitation.

 

“If time allows, and Bas and David agree the drugs
look safe for him to learn, it should be fine.”

 

Detective Stephens let us know the next set of
clothes were ready for inspection. This time he was finished in
under fifteen minutes.

 


It’s all Bob’s smell this time. Just like on the
other clothes, he has his scent over the front of the shirt and
sleeves. The front and sides of her jeans. Only one side of the
bra, and on the underwear.”

 

“That makes sense,” Detective Stephens said. “In this
case, the bra was torn off by grasping and pulling one cup until it
broke. The slacks are elastic waist, so there was no reason to have
the scent focused at the zipper, like the last pants.

 

“Is there anything about any smell you like or don’t
like?”

 


I smell the cigarette again. It’s very strong and
smells funny.”

 

“Marijuana?” Officer Marks guessed.

 

“Possibly,” I said. “If it’s a strong odor, it could
be a cigar. Red, did you smell the weird scent you didn’t know from
the first set of clothes?”

 


No, not this time.”

 

The third box was pretty much the same, with Bob
being the only scent trace Red was able to pick up on.

 

By the time Red was outfitted with new booties, the
last tarp was ready. “This last box,” Detective Stephens explained,
“is from the fourth victim. It’s less than a week old and a lot
more violent than the previous three assaults. She is still in the
hospital.”

 

David came up behind me and wrapped his arms around
my shoulders. “This one is really bad,” he whispered. “Clothes are
torn up, and there is a lot of blood. I hope Red can help.”

 

Red worked on the clothes for almost forty minutes
before he said,
“No. No, not the back, I want to smell the
inside.”

 

I repeated Red’s request. David added, “I think Red
means he wants you to turn it inside out, not flip it over.”

 

It was maybe five more minutes before Red said,
“There is some of Bob’s blood on this.”

 

“What?” I said, startled into standing up. “Be
careful not to touch it, Red.” I cautioned.

 

“Detective, Red says there is some of Bob’s blood on
the piece of clothing he is indicating.”

 

“Holy shit!” someone said.

 

“Watch the language,” I cautioned automatically, “the
dog repeats everything.”

 

“Sorry,” the voice murmured.

 

“Are you able to work something out so Red can show
you the exact spot without him touching anything?”

 

“Yes,” Detective Westfield replied. “There is so much
of the victim’s blood in this area; I’m not surprised a few
isolated drops were missed. Inside lining, front of the skirt, at
the hem. Skirt, back side of the right hand pocket,” he added. It
took me a moment to guess he was probably identifying the blood
locations for the person who was typing the transcript of Red’s
findings.

 


It’s definitely Bob. There is a light odor on the
shoulders of the shirt, but I don’t know what it is.”

 

“Can you show me where, Red?” Detective Westfield
asked after I relayed Red’s observation. “Slight oil-like stains on
shoulders near collarbones, between top button and sleeve
seams.”

 

David told me they were re-bagging each of the items
separately for further testing. “They seem pretty excited,” he
said.

 

“You have no idea,” Lt. Faber sighed from close by.
“It’s so frustrating to look at bags of evidence and not be able to
see a clue. The skirt is literally soaked through with blood. It’s
an amazing find, on Red’s part, to single out a sample of Bob’s DNA
from the victim’s. I can’t thank you enough for helping us
kick-start this investigation again.”

 

“How’s our super dog holding up?” Detective Westfield
asked. “Can Team Red hold out for another thirty minutes of crime
fighting?"

 

Officer Marks must have gotten the last set of
booties off, because Red sat in front of me and lifted a paw onto
my lap.
“I’m thirsty, but I’ll smell more stuff. I like
Detective Westfield. He likes dogs and has three at home. He has a
cat, too,”
he added, with disdain.

 

I had to laugh at my crazy dog. I told the detective
Red was happy to smell narcotics. “Red likes you because you’re a
dog owner, although he’s not too impressed about your cat. Can we
get him a drink of water from somewhere while we are en route?”

 

****************

 

We excused ourselves from the task force team and
followed Detective Westfield to another area of the building. There
were plenty of dog bowls in the narcotics room where it appeared
K-9s were the norm. After Red drank his fill, and greeted a couple
of the other working dogs, we were escorted to a secured area with
a large safe bolted to the floor.

 

According to Red, meth, and heroin stank; he hated
the smell of both. Cocaine made him sneeze, but he told me he had
the scent of it. Marijuana was not the lingering smell he detected
on the clothing.
“This stuff isn’t bad. It smells a lot like hay
or grass,”
he concluded. The connection wasn’t lost on any of
us, and we had a good laugh. We weren’t able to explain to Red why
his marijuana-grass association was funny, and maybe it wasn’t.
Maybe we were happy from a productive morning and any reason to
laugh was a good reason.

 

By the time we left the police station, it was after
2:30 p.m. and we decided to go to Dick’s Hamburgers to pick up a
few large orders of Fish & Chips to take back to my place.

 

We were still concerned about the email Officer
Blair'd sent out, and David said he would see if he could get an
appointment to chat with Detective Garner. But, all in all, it was
a fruitful day. We’d go back to the house, talk about the last four
hours, and exchange our thoughts and ideas about improving our
team. Team Red. I kinda liked that.

 

Chapter Twenty-Five

 

“…and the rapist was apprehended Friday afternoon
without incident. Detective Stephens, speaking on behalf of the
Spokane Police Department was quoted, saying: ‘The warrant for
Jeremy Thomas Lang was issued due to forensic evidence recovered
from the fourth victim’s clothing.’”

 

Janey folded the newspaper she had been reading aloud
to us, and slapped it down on the table top. “Go Red! Awesome job,
finding Lang’s blood enabled the cops to match him to the DNA in
their database and arrest his ass.”

 

Red had been excited ever since the announcement on
the news last night regarding the capture of the north-end rapist.
When Janey phoned me after the broadcast, we decided to get
everyone together for a celebration breakfast.

 

The phone rang in the kitchen and Ken called out,
“I’ve got it!”

 

“I have high hopes Red and I will be able to assist
with more police consulting. He had fun; I think it was really
rewarding to be able to make a difference.” I leaned back into the
couch cushion, snuggling a shoulder against David’s chest. He
dropped an arm around me to pull me into a hug.

 

David added, “I’m glad to see they managed to keep
you and Red out of the investigation. The low profile—”

 

“Excuse me,” Ken interrupted. “Detective Westfield is
on the phone.”

 

“Great,” I smiled, reaching out a hand for the
receiver. “Good morning, Detective. Congratulations to the task
force for catching the rapist so quickly.”

 

“I’ll let them know. We had quite the celebration
yesterday when the warrants were issued. I’m actually calling on a
semi-personal issue I was hoping you and Red might help me
with.”

 

“Sure, if we can,” I replied.

 

“I know you live somewhere out here on the
north-side. I have a place out in the Wandermere area. Molly, is a
golden retriever, new to me; I adopted her from the shelter two
weeks ago. I’m wondering if I could introduce her to Red to see if
he can get her to open up a bit.” He laughed. “I know this sounds
cheesy, but I was hoping we could set up a play date for our
fur-kids.”

 

“What are you doing now? Bas, David, a couple of
friends, and I are having a huge breakfast this morning. Come on
over and bring Molly. We have plenty of food,” I added as an
afterthought, “so if you’re married, or have a significant other
you live with, feel free to bring her or him along too.”

 

There was a pause at the end of the line. “I’m not
sure how to take it that you think I might be gay.”

 

“Don’t read anything in to it, Mr. Macho-cop guy. I
have no idea what your preferences are; I haven’t even considered
them. I’m covering the options so you know you, and whoever you
might bring, would be welcome in my home.”

 

“It’s only me and the dogs, although I’ve been
running errands with just Molly this morning. I’d love to stop by,
if you don’t feel it’s an inconvenience.”

 

“Not at all. We’d love to have you and Molly over.” I
recited the address, which he told me he could input to his car’s
navigation program.

 

“It looks like I’m about five minutes away. Can I
bring anything?”

 

“Hold on a sec.” I covered the receiver, “Ken, we
have one more for breakfast, do we need anything from the store he
can pick up en route?”

 

“Nope,” Ken said, “we’re covered.”

 

“Looks like we have everything we need, detective.
Thanks for offering,” I told him.

 

“Please, I’m off the clock. My friends call me
Gil.”

 

“We’ll see you shortly then, Gil.” I disconnected the
receiver and placed it on the coffee table in front of me, then
gave everyone a brief explanation about what was going on and asked
where Red was.

 

“In the kitchen, begging for scraps,” Janey said.

 

“Red, you have company coming to visit you. Detective
Westfield is coming to breakfast and bringing one of his dogs with
him. Her name is Molly.”

 


Does he have stuff for me to smell?”
Red laid
his head in my lap, so I could scratch his ears.

 

“I think the detective likes you and wants a chance
to talk to you,” I said. “Since you’re not on a leash, could you
stay by me when Molly comes in? Maybe lie down and let her come to
you?”

 

Red was quiet.
“This is one of those times where
you aren’t thinking like a dog. This is my territory. I can’t lie
down when she’s standing in my house. I will try not to scare her,
or start a fight, but she needs to respect this is my
place.”

 

“Let’s see how it goes? No fighting. Let me know if
she will be a problem and I can ask the detective to put her in the
car, okay? If Bas or David asks you to go outside, please listen to
them.”

 

There was a firm knock on the door and I felt Red
stand attentively facing the entryway, his ribcage pressing against
my knees.

 

“I’ve got it,” Bas said, from the chair across the
coffee table.

 

David brushed a kiss to my temple. I liked that he
stayed seated with me curled up in his warm embrace.

 

“Good Morning, Detective Westfield. Hey Molly.” Bas
greeted.

 

“Just Gil, is fine,” the detective replied.

 

Bas made introductions to Janey and Ken. Gil must
have approached closer to the couch because David told me, “Molly
seems well-behaved and curious about our boy. Red is approaching
her now. She dropped to a play posture.”

 

“Red?” I asked, “How’s she acting?”

 


She’s not alpha. She is friendly. Can I show her
my backyard?”

 

“Gil, if you want to unleash her, Red will take her
outside to play. The yard’s enclosed so she will be safe here.”

 

“It’s the strangest thing. She doesn’t seem to get
along with my two dogs at all.”

 


His other dogs are males.”
Red asked me,
“Are they neutered?”

 

After I translated, Gil replied, “Not both of them,
but since she was spayed at the shelter, I didn’t think it would
matter.”

 


What is spayed?”
Red asked.

 

“Spayed is like neutered, except the doctor makes it
so the female can’t have puppies,” I explained.

 


Molly smells really nice, she’s in heat. She is
probably acting aggressive because the male dogs are bothering her.
I’m still young, so she doesn’t care if I’m around her.”

 

“The shelter spays and neuters all the dogs before
they get adopted,” Gil said in response to my translation. “She
must have fallen through the cracks. I’ll call them later to see
when they can fit her in for the surgery. I already paid for it
when I paid her adoption fee.”

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