Capitol K-9 Unit Christmas: Protecting Virginia. Lenora Worth

his ears alert, his tail high. Focused, but not cautious. So far, the dog didn’t sense any danger.

      They moved around to the front of the house, and Samson headed straight across the yard, sniffing at a soggy cigarette butt that lay on the sidewalk. It seemed odd that Virginia had been able to smell the smoke.

      He left the butt where it was and walked to the porch, Samson on-heel. The dog nosed the floorboards, sniffed the air, growled.

      “Find,” John commanded, and the dog raced off the porch and around the side of the house, sniffing the ground, then the air. He nosed a bush that butted up against the edge of the house, alerting there before he ran to a window that was cracked open. No way had Virginia left it that way. Someone who’d been through what she had didn’t leave windows open and doors unlocked.

      Samson scratched at the window, barking twice. He smelled his quarry, and he wanted to get into the house and follow the scent to the prize.

      “Hold,” John said, and the dog subsided, sitting on his haunches, his eyes still trained on the window.

      John eased it open. The screen had been cut, and that made his blood run cold. Virginia’s instincts had been spot-on. Someone had been in the house with her.

      A loud bang broke the silence, and Samson jumped up, barking frantically, pulling at the lead. John let him have his lead following him to the back of the house. A dark shadow sprinted across the yard. Tall. Thin. Fair skin.

      “Freeze!” he called, but the guy kept going.

      “Stop or I’ll release my dog,” he shouted the warning, and the guy hesitated, turning a little in their direction, something flashing in his hand.

      A gun!

      John dove for cover, landing on his stomach as the first bullet slammed into the upper story of the house. He pulled his weapon, but the perp had already darted behind the neighbor’s house. No way was John taking a blind shot. It was too dangerous for the neighbors, for anyone who happened to wander outside to see what all the commotion was about.

      He unhooked Samson’s lead, releasing the dog, allowing him to do what he did best.

      Samson moved across the yard, his muscular body eating up the ground. No hesitation. No slowing down. He had unerring accuracy when it came to finding suspects, and the guy they were seeking was close. No amount of running would get him out of range, because Samson would never give up the hunt.

      John sprinted across the yard, knowing Samson would alert when he had the perp cornered. Ice crackled under his feet as he rounded the neighbor’s house, racing into the front yard. Samson was just ahead, bounding across the street and into a small park lined with trees. The perp had plenty of cover there, plenty of places to hide and take aim.

      “Release,” he called, and Samson slowed, stopped, sending John a look that said why are you ending the game?

      “Let’s be careful, pal,” John said, hooking the lead back on. “The guy has a gun.” And he’d already discharged it.

      They moved through the trees and farther into the park, Samson’s muscles taut as he searched for the scent. When he found it, he barked once and took off running. The darkness pressed in on all sides. No light from the street here. Just the ice falling from the sky and the muted sound of cars driving through the neighborhood.

      Behind them, branches snapped and feet pounded on the ground. A dog barked, and John knew that backup had arrived. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Dylan Ralsey and his dog Tico heading toward him.

      “Gavin called. I was closer than he was, and he thought you could use some backup,” Dylan said as he scanned the darkness. “His ETA is ten minutes.”

      “Thanks,” John replied. He didn’t stop. They didn’t have time to discuss what had happened, go over the details, come up with a plan.

      “Tico was bored anyway. It’s been a slow night.” Dylan moved in beside him, flanking his right, Tico on his lead a little ahead.

      The park opened out into another quiet street. Both dogs stopped at the curb, nosed the ground, whined.

      “He had a car,” John said, disgusted with himself for letting the guy escape.

      “Wonder if any of the neighbors have security cameras? Seems like that kind of neighborhood, don’t you think?” Dylan asked.

      It did.

      The houses were large, well maintained and expensive. Lights shone from porches and highlighted security signs posted in several yards.

      “That would almost be too easy, wouldn’t it? Look at some security footage, get a license plate number, find our guy?” he murmured more to himself than to Dylan.

      “We can’t assume the guy was driving his own car, but if we could get a tag number on whatever he was driving?” Dylan smiled through the darkness. “We’ll have something to go on.”

      “Did Gavin mention whether or not Morris sent the clothes we found this afternoon to the evidence lab?”

      “Not to me, but if they were sent, it might be weeks before you hear anything. If they can find some DNA, there might be a match in the system.”

      “Finding one will take even more time that Virginia might not have. The perp is bold. He entered the house while she was sleeping, and he had a gun.”

      “Did he fire it?”

      “Hit the side of the house. The bullet should be lodged in the siding.”

      “We might get some ballistic evidence from it.”

      “You mean Morris might,” John said. “He’s the local PD who’s handling the case.”

      “I know who he is. Gavin told me to steer clear of the guy.”

      “Guess Morris isn’t all that happy with my involvement.”

      “From what Gavin said, he’s on his way, and he’s not happy. Said you needed to stop stepping on his toes or things could get ugly.”

      “Should I sit back and watch a woman be terrorized?” John asked, allowing Samson to nose the ground, follow whatever scent he could to the east.

      “As a fellow member of the Capitol K-9 Unit, I’m going to have to say yes. Because that’s the official protocol.”

      “What would you say as my friend?”

      “You know what I’d say, John. Do what you have to do to keep Virginia safe.”

      “I guess you know which way I’m going to go,” John responded, because he couldn’t sit back and watch crimes be committed, he couldn’t back off and wait for help to arrive when he could be the one doing the helping. It was the way he’d been raised. His father, grandfather, brother, had all been police officers. They’d all given their lives for their jobs, sacrificing everything to see justice done.

      “I guess I do.”

      Samson stopped at a crossroad, circled twice, then sat on his haunches. He’d lost the trail. Not surprising. He was trained in apprehension and guard duty. Scent trail wasn’t his forte, though he’d done some training in that, as well.

      “Good try, champ,” John said, scratching the dog behind the ears and offering the praise he deserved.

      “The perp is heading toward downtown,” Dylan said, his gaze focused on the road that led out of the community. “If we had a description of the vehicle, I could call it in, get some officers looking for it.”

      “Anyone who confronts the guy is going to have to be careful. He isn’t afraid to use his weapon.”

      Dylan scowled. “That’s not news that fills me with warm fuzzy feelings.”

      “I wasn’t too thrilled, either.”

      “You’d be even less thrilled if you were lying