Sworn To Protect

Jordan’s German shepherd partner, Snapper, had been missing since the day the suicide note had been found. Recently the team had learned that Snapper had been picked up by an animal shelter not too long ago and adopted out. The once-majestic canine had been a stray on the streets for so long that he had become unrecognizable. The NYC K-9 Command Unit was attempting to contact the man who had adopted Snapper. So far, they’d had no success.

Jordan would want Snapper home.

He would want Martin prosecuted and tossed in jail.

He wouldn’t want anyone on the K-9 unit to circumvent justice and mete out punishment without due process.

Tony knew that. He had been working hard to keep his emotions in check and not allow anger to skew his perspective, but he was angry. Jordan had been one of the best. Not just at his police work but at his friendships and his life. He had been loyal, brave and devoted. He should have had decades of service left to the community. He should have grown old with Katie, raised a bunch of kids with her and retired into a life of leisure. Tony frowned, stepping over a downed tree that had fallen next to the tracks.

He had grown up in Queens and still lived there, renting a one-bedroom floor unit in a multifamily house right on the edge of Forest Hills. He and Rusty spent their downtime in this park, walking the trails and hiking through the oak woods. They both knew the area, and Rusty was confident as he loped ahead. After Tony had freed Rusty from his lead, the dog had circled back to find Tony in the park and then led him here. Like any well-trained search dog, he knew his job. Find the subject and return to the handler again and again, until the handler and the subject were in the same place.

With backup arriving and fanning out across the five-hundred-acre expanse of trees and trails, it wouldn’t take long to find Martin if he had stayed in the park. Based on the direction Rusty was heading, Tony didn’t think he had. There was a crossroad ahead, dirt and gravel that cut through the park. Vehicles were prohibited, but that didn’t keep teens and young adults from driving through.

Rusty sniffed an area in the center of the road, circled around and headed east. Tony followed. Tire tread marks were clearly visible, all of them sprinkled with leaves and debris. They had been there awhile. From the look of things, Martin wasn’t in a vehicle.

“Find!” Tony called, encouraging the Lab to keep searching.

Rusty made another circle, sniffing the ground and then raising his head. He had caught the scent again. Tony followed him off the road and into the woods.

The day had the crisp edge of winter, the bright sunlight filtering through a thin tree canopy. From his position, Tony could see a trail that wound its way through the trees.

If Martin knew the area and the park, he would know that the trail led to a busy road and an easy escape. Tony had every reason to believe Martin was familiar with the area. He had been renting an apartment just a few miles away before his arrest for Jordan’s murder.

A murder Martin had tried to make look like a suicide. Tony shook his head, unable to stop thinking about it, what Martin had done. Tried to do. If he had gotten away with it, Jordan’s family would have spent a lifetime trying to understand how they had missed signs of Jordan’s depression. They would have wasted energy on unfounded regrets.

The thought still filled Tony with fury.

Again, he had known immediately that Jordan would not have taken his own life. His friend had had too much respect and appreciation for all that God had given him.

There were others who had doubted, though. People who had whispered that Jordan might have had secrets or addictions or relationship troubles that had sent him into a spiraling depression.

Those whispered rumors had only compounded the tragedy of Jordan’s death.

Somewhere in the distance a dog barked, the sound carrying on the breeze. Another joined the chorus, the wild baying of a hound on the scent. This was Tony’s music, his symphony. He loved the sound of working dogs doing their thing. He loved being part of the NYC K-9 Command Unit. His father had wanted him to follow in his footsteps and become a homicide detective, but Tony enjoyed pounding the pavement, interacting on a daily basis with the community he served. The fact that his job choice had led him into K-9 work was something Tony was constantly grateful for.

He loved what he did.

He loved the life he led.

But, a piece of his soul seemed to have disappeared the day Jordan died.

They had been as close as brothers.

Losing him had left a giant hole in Tony’s life.

He had been trying to fill it with work, but even that had begun to feel hollow. There had to be more than long days stretching into long nights and a quiet apartment.

He frowned.

He hadn’t been sleeping well lately. That had to be the reason for his melancholy mood. Nearly eight months after Jordan’s death, and he was still burning the candle at both ends. In the first few months, he had been trying to figure out exactly what had happened to his friend.

Now, he was desperately trying to get a step ahead of Martin.

He was close. Tony could feel it.

Rusty growled softly, and the warning made the hair on the back of Tony’s neck stand on end. He knew his canine partner better than he knew the park or Queens or New York City. Rusty only growled when he sensed danger.

Tony whistled to call the dog back, then stood still, listening to the sudden silence of the park. A bird took flight, zipping away from a tree a dozen yards away. Leaves rustled. Branches snapped. Someone was coming, and he wasn’t being quiet about it.

Tony pulled out his gun and aimed it in the direction of the sound. Martin had dropped his gun near the clinic, but if he’d been able to get his hands on one firearm, he could certainly have another.

Seconds later, a teenager stumbled from the woods, his face ashen. Thin and gangly, his entire body trembling, he looked to be thirteen or fourteen. Probably a kid playing hooky from school who had run into a lot more trouble than he had expected.

“Hold it! Hands where I can see them,” Tony shouted.

The kid whirled in his direction, his eyes wide with fear. “Some guy has got my friend. He has a knife to his throat.”

Tony didn’t need to ask who. He knew. This was exactly what a coward like Martin would do. Find an innocent bystander and use him as a shield during his escape.

“Which way did they go?” Tony asked.

“That way!” The boy pointed through the trees.

“Stay here. Rusty, find!” The Lab plunged into the undergrowth. Tony followed, branches snagging his clothes. Rusty bounded ahead, ears flapping, tail high. He knew where he was going, and he shot straight as an arrow toward the scent pool.

He disappeared into a thicket.

Tony raced after him, radioing in his location and hoping backup would arrive quickly. Martin had already committed murder; there was no reason to believe he wouldn’t do it again. The teenager he’d kidnapped could be as easily disposed of as he had been abducted.

Rusty barked, and the sound reverberated throughout the woods.

“Call your dog off!” a man shouted, the voice high-pitched and filled with anger and fear.

Tony plunged into the thicket, pushed through the heavy bramble and thick vines and shoved his way into a small clearing.

Martin was just ahead, his arm around a young teen’s waist, a knife held against the boy’s throat. Rusty was snapping and growling nearby.

“Let the kid go, Martin,” Tony said calmly.

“Call off your dog,” Martin responded, the knife nicking flesh, a tiny bead of blood sliding down the kid’s throat.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t cry out. He just stared into Tony’s eyes, silently begging for help.

“Rusty, off,” Tony commanded.

The Lab continued to growl as he backed off and took his place next to Tony.

“That’s better,” Martin muttered, stepping backward, the knife blade still pressed against the boy’s neck. “Now, put your weapon down, and we’ll all be just fine.”