"I don't think we can even get into the backyard." She tried to move to the gate, but it was blocked with debris, rusty metal, roof shingles, and boxes dissolving from former rainstorms filled with junk.
They tried the other side of the house, but it was just as inaccessible. "Well, it's the fugitive's house, so we can enter it if we can reach it."
They returned to the porch, and both of them took turns kicking at the door until it gave way. The house smelled of cat urine and mold. She had been right. The house was a disaster inside.
Then something moved in the clutter in the hallway foyer. Rats?
An orange cat jumped out of the debris, and Ivan yelled out. The cat raced out the door.
“We would need masks and hazmat clothes to go in there. And we need to get animal control to come and get the cat—and others if there are more inside,” Kendra said.
“Do you have that equipment?” Ivan asked.
“No.” She contacted animal control and then called Rowland. “Hey, Ivan and I are at a home where the fugitive is supposed to be, but the house needs someone in hazmat clothes to retrieve him.”
“Okay, I’m sending a couple of men,” Rowland said. “Any sign of your fugitive?”
“A light is on in the house, and a cat came out. We’re getting animal control to take it in. From what I saw and smelled, the house is bad news. And more animals might be inside. Outside the house is just as bad,” Kendra said.
“The guys will be there soon,” Rowland said.
“Thanks.” Then they ended the call. “Normally, we would cover the house as much as we could to keep the fugitive from running, but we can’t even reach the backyard. Maybe he can’t either.”
Ivan shook his head. “I never expected something like this.”
“Yeah, we get all kinds of different situations. You just have to be prepared for anything. If he’s in there, he probably feels we won’t go in. That he’s safe.”
“He doesn’t know how determined we are.”
“Exactly.” Kendra got out her water container and drank from it. The orange cat came over to her and rubbed against her legs. She crouched and petted her. “Hey, sweetie.” The cat was scrawny and underfed, but really sweet. She hoped it would find a new home where she would be cared for as she should be.
Animal control arrived and took the cat, cuddled her, and then put her in a crate. “Are there more animals in the house?” the one officer asked.
“Not sure. But as pungent as the cat urine smells in the house, I suspect there are more,” Kendra said, Ivan agreeing. “We’re just waiting for officers in hazmat suits to enter the house.”
They waited, and not long afterward, a couple of officers, dressed in white hazmat uniforms from head to toe, arrived, rammed the door all the way open, and then went inside the house, their guns drawn. At least they could take down the perp if the guy wasn’t cooperative.
She wished she had the gear that she needed to get into the house to arrest the fugitive. But when the police officers worked with them, they would still turn over the money to pay for the fugitive, even if she and Ivan hadn’t actually captured him. They had located him—if he was in there.
More short-haired cats ran out of the house: another orange, a tuxedo, and three tabbies, two black cats, and a tortoise shell. But she wondered if others in the house were hiding.
Then she heard furniture or something being moved by the front door.
They figured the police officers would apprehend the fugitive, but a few minutes later, to Kendra and Ivan's shock, they saw movement in the vines at the side of the property. Kendra immediately pulled out her taser. Ivan grabbed his pepper spray, and they headed to where the gate would be if it wasn't covered with so many weed vines, trees, and shrubs.
"He's coming that way?" Ivan asked.
"Looks like it. The police officers wouldn't be coming through that mess."
A man cried out, and she wondered if the officers had followed him outside. She hoped that neither of them had been hurt.
Then the man cursed a blue streak as metal moved, was tossed, or more of it was stepped on to the side of the property. He cried out again.
"Do you think that's the fugitive?" Ivan asked.
"Yeah. He might need a tetanus shot if he cuts himself on rusty metal."
"I bet he hasn't tried to walk through there in eons," Ivan said, ready to shoot the guy with pepper spray if he needed to.
