Dance of the Bones

With his Glock in a small--of--the--back holster, Brandon knew there was no way he could manage any kind of gunslinger quick draw. “Gun!” he shouted, hitting the deck and hoping that Dan would do the same.

What Brandon didn’t realize—-what he hadn’t observed in any of Dan Pardee’s dog--training sessions—-was that, in the world of combat dogs and their handlers, that single word, “Gun!,” was an urgent command all its own. Hulk didn’t react immediately because his master hadn’t issued the command. Brandon had done so, and Bozo was Brandon’s dog now. The shepherd’s crouch--powered spring covered the distance between him and the woman in a single leap. He knocked her flat and was all over her while the offending gun went spinning harmlessly out of reach.

“Get him off. Get him off!” she screamed. “He’s hurting me!”

“Off!” Brandon and Dan ordered together. “Leave it,” Dan added for good measure. Obligingly, Bozo stepped away.

Jane sat up and used the frame of the car to pull herself to her feet. The gray wig she was wearing had been knocked askew. Blood flowed from her damaged right wrist.

“That dog is vicious and needs to be put down. I’m calling the cops.”

“Please do,” Brandon said. “Actually, I can hear sirens, so one of your neighbors must have already phoned it in. Dan, you and Hulk keep an eye on her. Don’t let her go anywhere. In the meantime, there’s something Bozo and I need to do.”

Brandon stepped forward and picked up Bozo’s lead. Then he drew a strip of colorful material out of his pocket and held it out to Bozo. “Find,” he ordered. A moment later, Bozo was standing at the back of Lani’s Fusion barking his head off.

With his heart racing in his chest, Brandon walked over and pressed the trunk release. At first glance, Lani was so still that he thought she was dead. After a heart--stopping moment, he realized she was asleep. Not asleep—-unconscious. A moment after that he spotted the tiny but still--bleeding puncture wound on her arm.

He spun around and strode back to the woman, who was leaning against her car. “What have you done to her?” he demanded, brandishing his fist. “If she dies . . .”

Brandon might have gone after her then and there, but Dan barred his way, Dan and Hulk together.

“The cops are here,” Dan said. “Let them handle the situation.”

“Lani’s there. We need to get her out of the vehicle.”

“No,” Dan told him. “The cops need to see it—-all of it.”

A patrol car pulled up behind Dan’s Explorer, followed by an aid car and a fire truck. The young patrol officer who walked up the driveway toward them was exactly the kind of cop Brandon had worried might walk into this mess—-someone who was inexperienced and still wet behind the ears. The name plate pinned to his shirt identified him as Officer Lopez.

“A man named Henry Rojas kidnapped my daughter and locked her in the trunk here,” Brandon explained, stepping toward the Fusion. “I believe this woman was his accomplice.”

“I didn’t!” the woman screamed. “I had nothing to do with it—-nothing at all. And that man set his dog on me. Look at my wrist. It’s a wonder I’m not dead.”

Ignoring the woman’s protestations, Officer Lopez followed Brandon and Bozo to the back of the Fusion and peered inside.

“Is that your daughter?” he asked.

Brandon nodded.

“Is she dead?”

“She’s still alive, but she needs medical attention. The man holding the other dog is Dan, her husband.”

“Any guns here?” Officer Lopez asked.

“I have one,” Brandon admitted. “And so does Dan. He’s Border Patrol. I’m Brandon Walker, retired sheriff of Pima County. We both have permits. The woman there tried to draw a weapon on us. It’s over there on the far side of her vehicle. If it hadn’t been for Bozo here, Dan and I would be history.”

Lopez nodded. “Sounds like a valuable animal. We had a report of shots fired, but we couldn’t get an exact location. When someone called in to report a disturbance at this address, we came here instead.”