Mattie recalled the two bullet entry wounds she’d seen on Nate’s chest in a tight pattern over his heart. The person who’d pulled the trigger had been close. “I think Nate Fletcher might have known his killer.”
Stella stared out the windshield at the blackened van. “Shot at close range. Sitting in his van at the side of the road. He could’ve stopped to talk to a stranger, but the familiar shooter plays out better. Did you know Mr. Fletcher?”
“No, but Cole did.” Mattie summarized what she’d learned from Cole. “I’m a little familiar with his wife. She was a few years behind me in school.”
“What do you think about her as a suspect?”
“I don’t know her well enough to have an opinion, but we’ll have to look at her.” In a case like this, and especially with suspicion of a familiar shooter, you always had to look at the spouse.
“With Sheriff McCoy away on vacation,” Stella said, “I’ll need to notify her. I want you to go with me to help observe reactions. After you let Robo do what he can with this scene, we’ll go on out to the ranch.”
Upon hearing his name, Robo came to the front of his cage, and Stella turned to thrust her hand through the heavy-gauge steel mesh grill that separated his cage from the rest of the unit. She buried her hand in the fur at his neck. “You’re warm, you big lug. Mattie, your partner comes in handy for more than just his nose.”
Stella knew only part of it. Robo had become Mattie’s best friend and protector. He’d saved her life in more ways than one, and he was about the only fellow being she could whole- heartedly trust.
The firemen were rolling up hoses, evidently having drained the fire truck’s reservoir.
“Looks like they’re finishing up out there.” Stella tousled the fur behind Robo’s ears as he leaned into her hand, looking like a big teddy bear. “Game on, Robo.”
Mattie turned off the SUV’s engine, slipped on a jacket similar to Stella’s, and stepped out into the damp breeze. The acrid stench of burned rubber and plastics hung in the air. What with the washed-out soil from around the truck and the smoky residue of scent that surrounded the area, she wondered how Robo could find anything at all. But dogs had the special ability to sort through layers of scent and home in on whatever they were searching for, and she had confidence in Robo’s nose.
Stella joined her at the back of the Explorer just as Chief Deputy Brody drove up in his cruiser. “Here’s Brody. I wondered if they’d be able to reach him.”
Mattie opened the hatch and leaned in to pet Robo. She’d spied Brody early at the dance, circling the floor with various partners until he’d settled on a tall blonde with an athletic build who looked like she knew how to handle herself on a dance floor. Brody, built like a wedge with seriously broad shoulders and the energy of a jackhammer, had appeared to be in his element, twirling his partner in a series of gymnastic moves. Thinking back on it, she realized they’d disappeared and he hadn’t returned.
Stella headed to meet him, and Mattie heard her start to brief him on what they knew so far. Brody was in charge of the department in the sheriff’s absence, while Stella would head up the investigation, but they would all work on the case together.
Robo snuggled against her, wagging his tail as she patted him down—part of her method to rev up his prey drive, his cue that it was time for the hunt. “Are you thirsty, Robo? Let’s get you a drink.”
Because moisture enhanced a dog’s olfactory ability, she splashed fresh water into his collapsible bowl from a jug she kept stored in his compartment. He lapped at the water while she debated which equipment to use. His blue nylon collar was used for evidence detection, while his search harness was typically used for tracking a human. She needed to use both tonight.
As a police patrol dog, Robo was trained in search and rescue, search and apprehension, and detection of narcotics and gunpowder, so he could find spent shell casings, dope, and people. With this dog, the specific equipment wasn’t as important as it might be with others; he often seemed to take on whatever task lay before him, whether she’d planned it or not.
She looked toward the hay meadow beyond the burned van and wondered if Nate Fletcher’s killer could still be out there in the darkness, observing the theatrics of the firestorm he had created. She decided on Robo’s harness and stuffed the collar into her utility belt, thinking they would look for the shooter’s scent first. She strapped on Robo’s Kevlar vest, and because of the amount of shattered glass in the area, she decided to put on his leather booties to protect his feet.
With a hand gesture, she signaled Robo to jump down from the vehicle. The booties made him high-step around for a few seconds before gliding around her legs and attaching himself to her left heel. He gazed into her eyes with expectancy. On the job.
Brody sauntered over, his thumbs hooked into his utility belt, resembling a well-sated feline. Or maybe that was just her read on him, knowing what she did. Stella followed and they huddled together.
“CBI called,” Stella said. “They’ll have a crime scene unit here in about thirty minutes.”
Mattie scanned the litter in the area. “The spray from the hose has probably washed anything useful out of the van, but I can have Robo search for evidence as soon as things cool down. First, I want to see if there’s anything he can tell us about the shooter.”
Brody cocked an eyebrow. “Ask him to give us a description?”
Mattie gave him a thin smile. “Seriously, I wonder if the shooter stayed around out there.”
They all turned, trying to search beyond the headlights into the meadow. The moon cast enough light to reveal a stretch of rolling grass dotted with haystacks, but that was about it. The base of the foothills defined the farthest edge of the field over a mile away.
“If anyone’s out there, you and Robo would be sitting ducks,” Brody said.
“Not sitting. We’ll be on the move.” Mattie waved her hand toward the road. “And maybe the shooter jumped into a vehicle and took off. Let’s see if we can find out.”
“Okay. Go to it. There’s very little traffic on this county road, but let me tell Garcia and Johnson to stop anyone that might come.” Brody left to get things set up.
“Don’t leave this area without someone with you, Mattie,” Stella said.
“I won’t. I’ll wait for Brody.” Brody covered her back whenever possible, and she’d come to rely on him. “First I plan to search a circle around the periphery of the scene to see if Robo hits on fresh scent.”
Mattie led Robo toward the edge of the road, where she could pat his sides and begin the high-pitched chatter that told him it was time to start. He bent around her legs before backing off to wag his tail and watch her face, prancing on his front paws.
A fugitive often exuded a scent tainted by stress that some officers called endocrine sweat. As part of his patrol education, Robo had been trained to track people leaving the scene of a crime on foot, and he could do it without a scent article.
Mattie unclipped his leash, and he circled her feet, a bundle of energy in anticipation of a command that would release it. She raised her arm and waved it outward. “Let’s find the bad guy, Robo. Search!”
Robo ran along the edge of the road, sniffing the ground, searching for scent. Mattie kept a keen eye on him while he worked. It was up to her to read his body language, to interpret his movement, each tiny communication between dog and handler.
When he didn’t hit on anything near the road, she called him back and asked him to start working a circle around the van. Robo quartered the area, his head moving back and forth, and her heartbeat quickened as she realized he was narrowing in on fresh scent.