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Unfortunately, I missed the chance to get down on my proverbial knees and plead with her today. Because today is her day off, and I have no idea if she returns to work tomorrow. Either way, it serves me right to suffer a little longer.
To add salt to my well-deserved wound, the construction crew was in the restaurant again this morning. A little quieter today, they shoveled down their breakfast like heathens. But I didn’t miss one of the guys asking Kirsten’s childhood friend how his date went last night. I also didn’t miss the way Kirsten’sfriendlooked in my direction as he said,“Perfect.”
Asshole.
I head south on Lighthouse Lane, surveying some of the town’s rental properties as I pass. As I roll past the last Fox rental, a call comes in on the radio.
“Attention all units, 10-54 called in by hiker. South of Fossil Mountain Highway, west of Granite Parkway, on the eastern ridge of the mountains butting against Barron Cabin number three. Who is responding?”
A 10-54? Holy shit.
I peer into the rearview mirror to see Pepper sitting at attention in the back seat. Today, she may actually get to do police work.
Plucking the radio from the dash, I press the button and reply. “Officers Emerson and Pepper, fifteen minutes out and en route.” I flip the overhead lights on but leave the siren off.
As I set the radio back in the cradle, another voice echoes through the cab of my cruiser. “Chief Emerson responding. Ten minutes out.”
The second my father’s voice fades from the speaker, I smash the accelerator to the floor. Naturally, the chief of police should make an appearance at a crime scene. In a small town, it is to be expected. But if I arrive a minute later than the fifteen minutes I promised, the chief will have my head. Knowing my father, he wants me on scene before him.
“That’s what an Emerson looks like. A man with foundational concepts to benefit the town. An innovative man with a good head on his shoulders. A respectable man the town looks to in hard times.”
His small but poignant speech on what it means to be an Emerson—one of the seven Stone Bay “elite” families—replays in my thoughts as I fly past the general store on Fossil Mountain Highway. The words “innovative”and “respectable”stand out more than the rest.
Bringing Pepper onto the force—the town’s first K-9 officer—and offering to train more K-9 teams fulfills the innovative part of the equation. Though the town hasn’t had much need for K-9 officers in the past, their extrasensory skills will only enhance the department and aid in closing cases more efficiently.
As far as being respectable, that comes with time and maturity. Respect is earned, not simply handed over because of the badge on my chest or the surname I bear. This much I know. I’ll be the first to admit I still have growing up to do. My blowup in the restaurant yesterday knocked my respect status down a few pegs. Integrity? I have that in spades. Keeping promises? I’d have to be on my deathbed or in the ground to not make good on my commitments.
If my father would recognize how much I’ve accomplished instead of pointing out all the things left unchecked, I wouldn’t have this constant need to prove my worth.
I pull onto the south shoulder of the highway, the first to arrive.Thank fuck.Hopping out of the cruiser, I shrug on my jacket, then open the back door and let Pepper out.
“Officer Pepper,” I say her name sharper—a tone reserved for work—and she stands taller. “We need your expertise today. Ready?”
Pepper lets out a single bark.Yes.
“Let’s go. Find the hiker.Such,” I command in German, telling her to search.
When I decided to train Pepper to be an officer, I learned it was best to teach commands in another language. Online, I read several articles and most had one thing in common. K-9 officer commands are often in German. It avoids confusion if the K-9 hears other command words in English, especially from someone other than their human officer companion.
We trudge through the woods and I let Pepper lead. She doesn’t have a specific scent to guide her, but her nose will differentiate humans from the earth much quicker than my own. A little more than a mile from the road, Pepper slows her pace and drops her nose closer to the ground. I remain silent and let her do her job.
At the foot of the mountain, Pepper veers southeast, drops her nose completely to the ground, and picks up speed—a sign we are closing in on the target. My eyes scan the forest as she guides us toward the hiker. Less than a minute later, a flash of fluorescent orange comes into view.
“Stone Bay Police Department!” I holler. “I’m with a K-9 officer. Do not make any sudden movements.”
A man in his late forties or early fifties meets my gaze and nods. “I understand.”
Pepper barks as we approach the man. I step into Pepper’s line of sight and give a nonverbal command to stop but remain vigilant. She stops barking, holds her position, stands tall, and scans the forest.
Pepper was trained to respond to verbal and nonverbal commands. Nonverbal commands are reserved for uncertain situations and I don’t want possible suspects aware of what she will do next.
“Brav, Officer Pepper,” I praise her. Shifting my attention to the man, I introduce myself. “I’m Officer Emerson. The station informed us you discovered a body.”
The man nods, his face paling. “Yes.” Slowly, he lifts a hand and points behind him. “On the other side of the boulder. A young woman.” Sweat beads his brow as he teeters in place. “I’m staying in the Barron three cabin and decided to hike the base of the mountains.” He covers his mouth with his hand. “Oh god.”
“Sir, you should sit down. Put your head between your knees and take some deep breaths.”
He does as I instruct, seconds before Pepper starts barking.
