Sheriff!” Creed yelled and pointed.
At first Norwich didn’t see it. By now, the crashing and rustling in the dry undergrowth grew. She raised her service revolver just as someone shouted, “Gunner, stop!”
The voice was a deep bass reverberating through the woods and filled with urgency.
“Please, don’t shoot.” The man who yelled was only a blur, thrashing through the trees, arms swinging as if it helped propel him forward. But clearly, he was too far back to control the situation.
“Bolo. Sit and stay,” Creed told his dog in almost a whisper, and Bolo obeyed. He saw the young guy drop the knife to his side as he turned to watch.
Creed got to his feet and shot a glance back at Norwich then the deputy. “It’s probably just a dog.”
Neither law officer dropped their gun.
“I’ve seen an alligator come that quickly,” Norwich said, adjusting her stance and taking aim.
“It’s Gunner,” the young guy told them. “That dog wouldn’t attack nobody. Not like yours did.” Then he noticed their guns, and his eyes went wide. “Hey! Wait a minute. Don’t shoot!”
By now, Creed had quietly inched forward and inserted himself in front of them all.
“Mr. Creed. Norwich noticed. “That’s not a smart thing.”
“Gunneeeeer!! Stop!”
That’s when the crashing came to a sudden halt. The grass and foliage went still less than fifty feet away. Too far for Creed to see.
The man could be heard in the distance, breaking branches and sending birds flapping. But the force charging through the shrubs had listened to him and went silent.
Waiting now. Listening for the man’s voice.
Creed glanced back at Bolo. The big dog didn’t look concerned. He glanced at the spot where the intruder was hidden from the rest of them. His eyes sought Creed’s, but only briefly. Then his attention went back to the young guy with the knife as if to say, this is who we need to watch.
But that man didn’t appear to be a threat right now. He shifted only to get a better view of Gunner’s owner while keeping an eye on the law enforcement officers.
“Old Sully wouldn’t hurt nobody either,” he told them.
Creed had to agree. Gunner’s owner had slowed considerably. His pace had petered out to a stumble-run. The cartwheeling arms now stretched in front of him as he grabbed onto and leaned against trees, using them to pull himself along.
“Maybe I’d believe you if you’d put that knife away,” Norwich said.
“Will you put your guns down?”
Creed looked over his shoulder. Bolo sat calmly, still watching the guy, but not with his earlier urgency.
Norwich looked at Bolo, too, then caught Creed’s eyes. Slowly, she lowered her weapon. To her deputy, she said, “Let’s stand down. But stay ready.”
Finally, the young man folded the knife and dropped it into his jacket pocket. That’s when Creed noticed the faded denim jacket was too small on the guy. The sleeves came inches above his wrists and pulled tight across his back.
Creed looked over at Norwich and her deputy, but both turned their attention to the man stumbling his way closer.
“And who exactly is Sully?” Norwich asked. Her bangs stuck to the sweat of her forehead. The rest of her steel-gray hair was pulled back into a ponytail sticking out the back of her Santa Rosa Sheriff ball cap. Lean and nimble even after a heart attack six months ago, Norwich had a calm but authoritarian stature and approach. “Is he the owner of this property?”
“He’s one of the old-timers. He has a nice set-up.”
And he hadn’t answered her question.
Norwich exchanged a glance with Creed, that made him almost expect an eyeroll. But she kept her face expressionless, as much for her deputy as for the young man. Both were focused on Sully, while Creed watched the spot where the dog named Gunner had gone silent.
As its owner got closer, Creed held back a smile, recognizing the swish of grass as a tail wagging. He could see the hunched back slowly rising. A black snout poked between the green and red of a holly bush. But again, the dog waited, the grasses waving and twirling, the closer the owner got.
The man named Sully stopped and placed his hands on his knees. He wheezed and gasped for breath. Feather-white hair stuck to his scalp in a band of sweat where a hat or cap had recently been. His skin reminded Creed of worn leather, brown and creased with lines in his forehead and at the corners of his eyes. Bushy eyebrows were more gray than white.
Creed wasn’t good at guessing anyone’s age, but the man was older than Creed expected. When his head bobbed up with the rest of his body, his chest still heaved. He looked over at them, and his eyes didn’t quite track like they should, which probably accounted for that awkward run.
“Gunner,” he said. “Come on over here.”
The dog obeyed, and they finally got a good look at the animal. A mixture of brown, Gunner surprisingly stood a foot shorter than Bolo. Creed guessed it was a terrier mix with short floppy ears and a wiry coat that stood up on its head like the dog had just gotten out of bed. There was one other surprise. Gunner was a girl.
She definitely attracted Bolo’s attention. The Ridgeback approached with purpose, his nose twitching and sniffing without a signal from Creed. Only now, Creed realized what drew Bolo’s interest. It wasn’t the dog. It was the bone Gunner proudly displayed, clenched in her teeth.
Sully noticed, too. “She found that this morning,” he told them. The man was still trying to catch his breath. Another wheeze came from his throat, and his chest moved underneath the threadbare shirt. “Been parading around with it. What’s going on here?”
Bolo had led them to the young guy with the knife, but now his nose worked overtime. He moved tentatively, sniffing the other dog, no longer interested in his initial target. He leaned so close he triggered a growl from Gunner.
“Are we going to have a problem here, Mr. Creed?” Norwich asked.
Creed readied himself, but he didn’t interrupt. He hoped he didn’t need to. A few more sniffs, and Bolo turned back around, then sat at Creed’s feet. He waved his nose toward the bone in Gunner’s mouth. At the same time, he tapped the ground with his paw.
“Mr. Sully, where did your dog find that bone?” Creed asked.
“Somewhere out in the woods. Looks to me like a bear.”
“I don’t think it’s a bear.” Creed looked back at Norwich and gestured to Bolo sitting at his feet. “Bolo doesn’t alert to animal bones.”
He watched her do a double take, looking from the bone to Bolo, then finding Creed’s eyes. She understood.
“So, what exactly is he saying?” the deputy asked. It hadn’t quite registered with him, and he stared at his boss, waiting for an explanation.
Creed answered for her. “Bolo tracks missing people, but he’s also a cadaver dog.”