Santa Rosa County, Florida
“No way! That’s a human bone?” Deputy Greer seemed a bit freaked out, and Creed wondered how long he’d been in law enforcement.
“Gunner, drop that.” The man named Sully bent over his dog and pointed to the ground.
She relinquished the bone as he dug deep into the pocket of his baggy pants and brought something that looked like the corner of a dried out sandwich. Whatever it was, Gunner reluctantly made the trade. Sully picked up the bone with no hesitancy and handed it to Norwich.
From her daypack, the sheriff yanked out a pair of latex gloves. She pulled them on and dug in the pack again until she found an evidence bag. In the meantime, Creed started to retrieve Bolo’s reward toy. The dog may not have found what his handler had asked for, but he did alert to a scent he’d been trained to find.
Before Creed fingered the toy, he noticed Bolo had repositioned himself to face Hogan. His nose twitched, pointed up, and sniffed directly in the man’s direction. Hogan had his back to the dog and focused on the exchange of the bone from Sully to Norwich. But Bolo was no longer interested in the bone. Instead, he inched forward until his nose almost touched the hem of Hogan’s jacket.
The final snort got everyone’s attention, especially Hogan’s. He wheeled around, almost losing his balance. But Bolo was finished. He patted the ground at Hogan’s feet, then look over his shoulder to Creed, making sure his handler noticed.
Just as Hogan started to dig in his pocket for the knife again, Norwich stopped him, putting up her gloved hand. “Hold on.” Then to Creed, she said, “Looks like your dog is still trying to tell us something.”
“I didn’t do nothing wrong.”
“Hush up,” Sully told the younger man, and it was clear this was finally someone Hogan would listen to.
Before Creed responded, Norwich addressed the two men now casually without letting on that they were squatting on private property.
“Mr. Creed and his scent dog are here helping us find a missing teenager. A witness claims the boy ran behind the Red Roof Inn and into the woods early this morning.”
She paused, as if sealing the evidence bag required her full attention. But Creed knew Norwich was studying the men’s reactions. Hogan’s eyes darted to the old man, but he had been acting strangely since they arrived. Sully, to his credit, didn’t flinch.
Norwich continued, “His parents are awfully worried about him. He’s only fifteen. Kind of small. Maybe five three, five four. Dark hair. Blue eyes. His name’s Caleb Monroe.”
“I didn’t see no runaway boy this morning,” Sully offered.
“Are there others staying out here? In the woods?” she asked, again casually, no recriminations or accusations.
Sully shrugged. “Sometimes. It’s hard to find a quiet place where people won’t bother you. Gunner and me try not to bother anybody in return.” The dog looked up expectantly at the sound of her name. Sully waited, not backing down and holding eye contact with the sheriff. “Are we in trouble, Sheriff?”
“Some of this land is private property,” she told him and paused. Sully only nodded. “Right now, I’m only looking for the boy.” Then Norwich lifted the evidence bag. “And you’ll need to show me where your dog found this bone.”
“Sure, sure. I can do that.” He fingered his chin, already trying to remember.
Hogan fidgeted, and the deputy stood stock-still, his weapon holstered but his hands on his waist as if he might need to be ready to draw again.
During this whole exchange, Bolo hadn’t moved. When Creed glanced down at him, the dog tapped his paw again and wagged his snout in Hogan’s direction. He looked up at Creed. Another tap as if to say, Why aren’t you getting this?
“Sheriff,” Creed said. “Do you know what Caleb was wearing the last time anyone saw him?”
Norwich glanced over. She noticed Bolo, his nose back up, sniffing and all but pointing. Then she took a hard look at Hogan.
“That jacket seems a bit small for you.”