Tahoe Blue Fire (An Owen McKenna Mystery Thriller Book 13) (9 page)

THIRTEEN

Whatever Mallory said into his phone created a big reaction. Within minutes, four black-and-whites appeared, sirens off but light bars flashing blue and red strobes. Two unmarked cars followed. I recognized one of the men who got out as the Chief. Mallory spoke to all of the cops. One of the sergeants gave some orders, and cops spread out over the snow piles. Two walked into the snow canal that had been cut by a rotary.

A road grader came up Sierra Blvd., making a loud roar and throwing out black diesel smoke. It pulled to a stop when the driver saw Mallory beckoning him. The driver got out and walked over to Mallory. They spoke. Mallory took him over to the snow canal in the center of the snow dump. They spoke and pointed and gestured. The grader driver shook his head and turned his palms toward the sky as if to say, ‘I don’t have any idea.’

I stayed back with Spot, petting him, reassuring him.

When confronted with a problem, dogs don’t have our kind of linear thinking ability. They aren’t as smart as chimps or gorillas or dolphins or elephants when it comes to problem solving. But they get a clear sense of the big picture. And their emotional intelligence with regard to what people want is far beyond that of any other animal. Dogs are the only animals that study a human’s face. Dogs can tell what a human wants by the smallest of looks or actions. The most casual glance or concern on a person’s face causes a dog to respond. If a dog sees the human look toward their leash or a treat, the dog jumps up in excitement. But if a dog sees grief or fear or sadness, the dog comes to nuzzle and give comfort or, if necessary, turn toward the door or window and growl. Dogs want nothing so much as to please people.

I’d given Spot the task of looking for a particular human scent. Which led him to a bone with the same scent. Bones and scents are both familiar experiences for dogs. But soon the discomfort set in as Spot realized that bones aren’t supposed to have human scents. Add in the master’s reaction - a quiet but obvious change in my manner and, no doubt, a huge, negative change in my own scent, the odors of horror and disgust - Spot realized that another human had died. Worse, he understood at some level that it was his discovery that brought the realization to his owner. He’d made the worst of discoveries, and it made him seriously depressed.

Over the next two hours, other city cops showed up as well as three CHP officers and a couple of El Dorado County deputies. One of the local cops had a K-9 unit, and, using Sean’s glove for a scent source, the cop put his German Shepherd through multiple searches. The dog was a trained professional, much more focused than Spot, and he alerted over and over at multiple places. The dog and the officers dug out dozens of bits and pieces of body and clothing. Some were found in the snow piles, while others were found far out into the forest.

Mallory came over to me. He pet Spot as he spoke. In his other hand he held another Coke.

“Here’s what we’re thinking. You tell me if this seems wrong. The path cut down the center of the snow dump didn’t go all the way through, as you noted. It looks like the killer cut it in advance as a trap. Somehow, he enticed the guy to walk into the cut in the snow. What he used for bait, I have no idea. Once the vic was in there, he came in with a rotary plow, the auger and impeller on high speed. The snow walls were too high for the vic to climb out, and he was trapped.

“Looking at the pattern of dispersal of human remains, it looks like he aimed the discharge chute a short distance directly in front of him. After he’d first chewed through the body, he continued forward and plowed through the remains again, re-processing the pieces so to speak, breaking them up into much smaller chunks. And on the second pass, it appears that the driver directed the discharge chute far out into the forest, oscillating it left and right as he drove. If you and your hound hadn’t found this, it’s entirely likely that when the snow melted over the course of the summer, nothing would have been noticed. The odd piece of fabric a hundred yards over there would have blown away. The odd pieces of bone or flesh a hundred yards the other way would have rotted and dried and been inconsequential. As for bigger pieces like the hand, coyotes would have carried them off. I’m guessing that when the killer was done with his evil deed, he probably blew a lot of fresh snow through the rotary, cleaning the equipment so to speak. Once the rotary was back at the yard, the rotary might not have shown any sign of what it had been used for. It would have been the perfect crime but for your hound dog.”

Mallory rubbed Spot vigorously behind his ears. Spot seemed not to care. “Does that fit with your sense?” Mallory looked at me. I couldn’t tell if he really wanted my opinion or if he was just trying to make me feel like a part of the process.

“Yeah, that seems a likely scenario,” I said.

Mallory stared at Spot. Spot hung his head. Mallory’s forehead was creased with deep wrinkles.

“My canine struggles with human death,” I said. “This is a particularly brutal experience.”

Mallory pointed over to the professional K-9. “The German Shepherd looks pretty bummed, too.”

I turned to follow his point. The police dog was sitting in the snow next to its handler. The dog’s tongue was out, panting. When you know the German Shepherd breed, you learn to see the difference between a vigorous pant to cool off and the stressed pant of anxiety. This was anxiety. The dog’s ears were back. It hung its head. And its gaze went left and right as if searching for some sense of comfort.

“C’mon, Spot, let’s go see if we can put on some cheer.” I slipped my fingers under his collar and pulled him with me. When we got to the officer and his dog, I introduced Spot and myself. The man was in his late twenties, and he looked a bit gray with shock.

“I’m Christopher Benning, and this is Davis,” he said, looking at his dog.

We shook hands.

“It’s been a tough afternoon for Davis, huh, boy?” Christopher bent down and pet his dog. “Tough for your dog, too, I guess. He’s the one who found the first pieces, right? Sorry if that’s the wrong word to use. I’m still pretty new at this stuff.”

“No problem,” I said.

“Someone said you were a cop in San Francisco.”

I nodded. “After twenty years, I decided to come up here and try the private version.”

“I started out as a rookie in Vacaville,” Christopher said, “and then I heard about an opening on the SLTPD, so I transferred up to the lake. All I wanted was to ride. Snowboard in the winter, mountain bike in the summer. I love dogs, so I applied for K-nine training.” Christopher looked down at his dog. “Davis is a natural. Smarter than I was in the third grade. He and I worked on his training for two years. He aced all the tests, and we were chosen to be a K-nine unit.” Christopher looked around at the snow dump. He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “I knew being a cop would be tough at times. But I never imagined this.”

I reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

“You focus on Davis, you’ll get through these things fine.”

“I guess. But this is nasty stuff. As long as you’re here, would you mind holding Davis’s leash for a minute. I need to check in with the sergeant.”

I nodded and took the leash, and Christopher walked off.

Davis stood up, a bit startled at being left alone with me and Spot. I took the opportunity to introduce the dogs to each other.

Usually, dogs meeting each other is a happy affair, sniffing and appraising and taking in the doggie body language that helps them sort out their social structure. But as Spot came close to the German Shepherd, they regarded each other without much interest.

The shepherd was nervous, not because Spot was twice his size but because a man had died, and the shepherd had been tasked with finding many of the pieces.

When Christopher came back, Davis pulled toward him. He didn’t wag, but he was obviously eager to go somewhere else.

A thought came to me. “Hey Christopher,” I said. “I would like to do one more search on another item. My dog is clearly not the same caliber as yours. Would you mind sending Davis out again?”

“I suppose. He won’t like it, but I guess that’s part of his job. What kind of a search?”

“I’ve got another item, a pillowcase, from another missing person. I don’t imagine that there will be anything to find, but what if?”

“I’ll wait,” Christopher said.

I went back to the Jeep and brought out the pillowcase in the plastic bag.

Christopher went through the routine with Davis, making certain the dog had a few good whiffs with the pillowcase over its nose. When Christopher gave the search command, Davis trotted off. There was no enthusiasm in the dog’s movement, but his focus was obvious.

The dog went over to the edge of the snow dump. I saw no sign of scent recognition, but Davis was smart enough to go to the area that yielded the results on the first missing person. Davis went down the edge of the field of piled snow, then turned around and came back. Sometimes he held his nose near the ground. And sometimes he held his head high, air scenting. When he got to the corner of the snow piles, he turned and trotted down the side where the dead-end canal had been cut in the snow. The dog went past the opening of the snow canal without slowing. He retraced his steps and still found nothing.

Davis went another thirty yards into a new area. He stopped with a jerk so sudden, it was as if someone had an invisible leash on him and yanked it tight.

Davis lifted his nose into the air, turned a circle, then ran up onto the snow piles. He trotted along, up and down over the humps, then made another abrupt stop. He put his nose to the snow, then started digging.

Christopher started jogging toward Davis.  

Davis went down a half foot, then lowered his nose into the hole and pulled out yet another piece of fabric.   He turned and trotted off the snow dump, across the plowed area and out toward Christopher, who used an evidence bag to take the fabric. Christopher pet Davis vigorously. The two of them walked back to me.

Mallory was approaching from the side and got to me just as Christopher and Davis came near.

“Your dog doesn’t have to keep searching,” Mallory said to his officer. “We have enough evidence for now.”

“Mr. McKenna asked me to do one more search using a different item.”

“What item is that?”

I held up the pillowcase. “This is Darla Ali’s pillowcase.”

“The missing girl,” Mallory said. He turned to Christopher. “Your dog found something?”

Christopher held up the bag. Inside was a large piece of fabric.

“That’s purple,” Mallory said. “Nothing like the denim or the other fabric pieces.”

“Sanford Burroughs let me into Darla’s room,” I said. “I looked in her closet. About half of her clothes were purple. And Sanford said that she was wearing a purple jacket the last day he saw her.”

“Christ,” Mallory said. He crushed his empty Coke can into a wad so small, it was as if it were made of tissue. “The missing girl was butchered here, too? This isn’t just a sick murder, this is a disaster.”

FOURTEEN

Christopher sent Davis on several additional searches. The dog brought back multiple pieces of evidence that made it clear that Darla Ali had met the same fate as Sean Warner. The cops all stayed focused on the job even as a dark mood settled over everyone.

“You know how ‘live finds’ cheer up depressed dogs?” I said to Christopher after Mallory left.

He frowned. “One of the search-and-rescue trainers mentioned that, but it seemed a bit touchy-feely. We did lots of mock searches in training. But we all thought it was just about teaching dogs to perform search and rescue. Are you saying that it really helps their mood?” He looked down at his dog whose head was low.

“Yeah. Finding human bodies is the worst for dogs. Why don’t you go hide and I’ll send the dogs after your scent? When they find you, they’ll be very glad to have found you alive and not dead. It’ll make them feel better.”

Christopher said, “Okay. Where do you think I should go?”

“Don’t look around as I talk to you, or it will give it away to the dogs. What do you have that I can scent them on?”

“My cap or my jacket. We learned in search-dog training that caps and pillowcases are best. Anything that comes in contact with the head.”

“Cap it is. There’s a panel truck off to your left, down about a half a block. It’s parked in front of a big snowbank. There’s a slight breeze coming from that direction, so the truck is mostly upwind of where we are now. That would be a good place to hide. But let’s not clue the dogs in advance that we’re arranging something unusual. So be very casual and take off your cap.” He did as I said. “Both dogs are watching you. Make a show of looking over toward Mallory on your right as you hand me your cap with your left hand.”

Christopher did as I suggested. The dogs watched him turn and look toward Mallory. Christopher held out the cap with his left hand. Moving slowly, I took the cap and stuffed it into my pocket.

Scanning in the opposite direction from the panel truck, I looked toward the forest. “I’ll take the dogs for a little walk into the forest behind those trees on the other side of the snow dump so they can’t see you. That will put them a bit out of line from your scent trail. We don’t want their search to be too easy. I’m guessing that your dog will be tempted to follow your walking path, bloodhound style. But he’ll also be crossing your drifting scent plume. So he may abandon your trail and try to go directly to you once he’s got your scent.”

“Got it,” Christopher said. “No doubt you saw how I send Davis on a search?”

“Yeah. Same approach I use with my dog. I’ll walk away with the dogs. You go down that side street. Your dog will turn around to see where you’re going. But after we’re in the forest, you walk around the block, then get behind the snowbank on the other side of the truck. I’ll count to one hundred. Then I’ll scent the dogs on your cap and send them on a search.”

“Got it,” he said.

We both left on our missions. Davis came willingly on his leash, but he kept turning his head to watch Christopher recede down the block. He whined a bit, but I knew it would be worth it in the end. Spot was on my other side. Because of Spot’s height, I don’t need a leash. I just hold his collar.

I counted slowly as I walked. When we got to the forest and I knew the dogs couldn’t see Christopher, I stopped. At the count of 100, I started talking, making my voice excited.

“Okay, boys! Do you want to do a search? Sure you do! Davis, are you ready? Spot, are you ready to search?” I put my hands on their chests and vibrated them. “Okay, time to smell Christopher’s cap!” I put the cap on each of their noses. “Do you have the scent? Do you?” I unclipped Davis’s leash and let go of Spot’s collar. Then I dropped my hand in a pointing motion as I said, “Find the victim!”

I gave Spot a smack on his rear, his signal to search. But Davis was already sprinting away. He made little squeals as he ran back toward the place where we’d last stood with Christopher.

Spot ran fast, but a Dane is no match for a German Shepherd in acceleration. Danes can get up to high speed, but it takes time. Shepherds begin a run as if they were shot out of a bow.

As Davis came near to the place where we left Christopher, he did little leaps as he ran. He held his nose high, air-scenting. Spot was behind him. I couldn’t tell if Spot was following a scent or if he instinctively knew that it made more sense to follow the trained professional dog.

Davis jerked to a stop, turned 90 degrees, nose high in the air, and turned again. Then shot off in a new direction, directly toward the panel truck down the block.

Spot followed.

My last glimpse of them was as they leaped over the snowbank.

I trotted after them and found Christopher romping with both of them. The dogs were both jumping with excitement.

“Wow, it really works!” Christopher said. “Look at them! Good boys!” He tried to pet them, but they were jumping around too much.

“Now we should both take our dogs home without letting them go back to the snow dump and those smells. They will leave this area with happy memories.”

Christopher beamed at me. “Thank you so much. I never would have believed this if I hadn’t seen it.”

“Happy to help,” I said.