He led her into the grassy barrow ditch beyond the debris field, where he stopped and stood with one front paw raised for a second before stretching his neck forward to touch something with his mouth, something hidden from view by the foliage. Then he sat and stared at her, his signal that he’d found something left behind by the person he’d been tracking.
With a buzz of excitement, Mattie praised him as she pulled her flashlight from its loop on her utility belt. The polished steel barrel of a deadly-looking revolver glittered in its beam. She recognized this handgun and didn’t need Brody to identify it—a Smith and Wesson .38 Special.
“We’ve got a gun,” she called to Brody as she marked the spot with a short spike topped with a strip of orange flagging tape. “I’ll leave it for the crime scene techs to process.”
Carrying his AR-15 Colt rifle, Brody came up behind her. “That’s one strategy. Leave the murder weapon so it won’t be found on your own property. I’ll bet the gun will be untraceable.”
Stella had followed Brody. “We’ll see. I’ll check it for prints, and if it hasn’t had its registration number tampered with, I’ll run it through the ATF National Tracing Center for ownership. Maybe we can get a quick turnaround.”
Mattie doubted it would be that easy, or the shooter wouldn’t have left the gun at the crime scene. “I’ll see where the track goes from here.”
After being told to go ahead and search, Robo took her across the barrow ditch to a barbed wire fence that separated the ditch from the meadow. Beyond that, slight indentations in the tall grass beckoned.
“Robo, wait.” Her intuition had paid off. She’d believed it possible that the shooter had left the scene on foot, especially if Nate had known him. Maybe the guy had even sat in the van with Nate before he killed him.
Brody joined her to look out into the meadow.
“He’s got a hit,” she told him. “We need to let him follow it.”
“I’ll get backup.” Brody keyed on his radio mic. “Garcia, pull back in. We’re going into the meadow to search.”
Stella joined them. “How do you two want to work this? You know the shooter could still be out there.”
Reading Robo’s body language would be more important than ever. He could tell her “someone is here” versus “someone was here.” “I’ll follow Robo on the scent track. Can you and Garcia flank me?” she asked Brody.
“Sounds like a plan. LoSasso, you stay here and control this area. Make sure the public stays out. Shut off the headlights on the vehicles around here. I don’t want us backlit like targets at a shooting range.”
Garcia jogged up, his tactical rifle held ready. A force veteran, he was built like a fireplug and he looked eager to go. Brody took a few seconds to brief him, and then they stamped down the bottom two strands of the sharp barbed wire so that Mattie and Robo could pass through.
She clipped on Robo’s leash, wanting to keep him close as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. A breeze rippled the knee-high alfalfa and grass mix as Robo tugged on his leash, wanting to follow the hot scent. Mattie’s chest tightened as she felt the responsibility of leading the others into the field, where she could barely see Robo’s shadow, much less interpret the nuance of his movements.
She took a breath. “Ready?” she murmured.
“Go ahead,” Brody said.
She bent, ruffled Robo’s fur, and used an excited voice to direct him. “Robo, let’s go find the bad guy. Search!”
Robo surged forward, forcing Mattie to trot a few steps until she could slow his momentum. She didn’t want him going out too fast through the tall grass. She pinned her eyes on his shadow and spoke to him quietly, asking him to take it easy whenever he pulled against her too hard. She strained to listen, locating the quiet rustle made by Brody and Garcia, slightly behind and off to each side.
Moonlight glinted off Robo’s back. He kept his nose to the ground, and soon enough it became apparent that he was leading them toward a large stack of baled hay, a perfect spot for someone to hide.
She kept her voice down while she spoke to Brody over her shoulder. “We’ve got to clear that haystack. That’s where Robo’s headed.”
Brody called a halt. “Garcia, you hold a point here and watch the front and left side. I’ll circle to the right and clear the backside. Cobb, you stay on the track.”
Mattie raised her face and tested the breeze against it. Northerly, coming from the haystack. If the shooter remained hidden behind the stack, Robo would probably catch his scent on the wind. But no guarantees.
She let Robo pull her forward through the deep grass while she watched his every move, looking for his head to go up and his hackles to rise, his way of telling her that someone is here, someone is out to get us.
Robo raised his face into the wind, and her heart did a double-step. She drew a breath to shout a warning to the others, her eyes glued to Robo’s back. But his hackles remained down. No change.
“Clear!” Brody shouted from ahead and off to the right. Static crackled the air as he used his radio to check in with Garcia, who reported an all clear from his side.
Robo’s head went back down, nose to the ground, as he led Mattie up to the stack and around its right side, where she could see for herself that it was clear. But as her dog swept around the corner, he came to a sudden stop, sniffed the area, and backtracked. He stuck his nose in a depression between bales to sniff, then turned to sit and stare at her. His signal that he’d found something.
Already adrenalized, she felt a new high surge through her. “Robo’s got a hit on the stack.”
Brody moved forward. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. He’s trained to indicate anything outside the environmental norm when we’re on a track like this.”
Brody turned on his flashlight and aimed its beam into the stack. A pint jar filled with liquid and topped with a strip of white cloth under its cap was nestled in the crease between the bales. “Molotov cocktail,” Brody said, moving closer to take a whiff. “Smells like kerosene or some type of fuel.”
This was probably the reason Robo had raised his head to sniff the wind out in the field. Brody had to move close to smell it, but her dog had picked up the scent at about thirty yards.
“After pouring accelerant inside the van, this is probably what our guy used to ignite it,” Brody said. “He evidently didn’t need this one. Garcia, keep a watch out here until we can get the crime scene unit to process this. Maybe we’ll get prints.”
“You got it, Chief.”
Brody turned to Mattie. “Can Robo pick up where the guy went from here?”
“I’d bet on it.” She patted Robo’s sides and told him again to search. He lowered his head to whiff the base of the grass around him with a soft snuffling sound before setting a course on a diagonal toward the road.
Now that Mattie knew the stack was clear, she shrugged away the tightness that had gathered between her shoulder blades. She and Robo took the lead while Brody fell in behind. Robo took them to a fence about three-quarters of a mile from the crime scene and lowered his head, making it clear he intended to slip under it.
“Robo, wait.” Mattie made him pause so they could safely cross through the barbed wire before allowing him to sniff his way through the tall grass into the barrow ditch. He touched a hidden object with his mouth and then sat, his eyes finding hers.
Mattie grabbed his ruff and hugged him close, praising his find. She signaled to Brody, who came forward with his flashlight. He parted the grass to reveal a tan leather, work glove, large enough to fit a man.