Love You More (Tessa Leoni, #1)(80)

Or would there be bullet holes, red droplets giving testimony to a last moment filled with violence?

D.D. was a professional who didn’t feel professional anymore. She wanted to crawl into the backseat and wrap her hands around Tessa Leoni’s throat. She wanted to squeeze and shake and scream, How could you do such a thing! To the little girl who loved you!

D.D. probably should stay behind. Which meant, of course, that she wouldn’t.

“The SAR team is requesting further assistance,” Bobby was stating quietly. “We have four hours of daylight left, in less than ideal conditions. Dogs can only walk so fast. Same with the handlers. What do you suggest?”

“Shit,” D.D. murmured.

“My thoughts exactly.”

“Any funny business, I’m going to have to kill her,” D.D. said after another moment.

Bobby shrugged. “Don’t think too many people out here will argue with that.”

“Bobby … if we find the body … If I can’t handle it …”

“I’ll cover for you,” he said quietly.

She nodded. Tried to thank him, but her throat had grown too tight. She nodded again. He clasped her shoulder with his hand.

Then they returned to Tessa Leoni.

———




Tessa had left the Crown Vic. No coat, shackled at the wrists and ankles, she’d still managed to make it over to one of the SAR trucks, where she was watching Nelson unload his canines.

First two pet carriers contained smaller dogs, who were twirling in excited circles while barking maniacally.

“Those are search dogs?” Tessa was asking skeptically, as Bobby and D.D. approached.

“Nope,” Nelson said, opening a third, much larger carrier to reveal a German shepherd. “Those are the reward.”

“What?”

Having released the German shepherd, who loped around him in a tight circle, Nelson bent down to open the other two carriers. The smaller, shaggier dogs were out like twin shots, leaping at the German shepherd, Nelson, Tessa, Bobby, D.D., and everyone else in a twenty foot square radius.

“Meet Kelli and Skyler,” Nelson drawled. “Soft Coated Wheaten Terriers. Definitely smart as whips, but a little high strung for SAR work. On the other hand, Quizo thinks they’re the best playmates in the whole world, and I’ll be damned if he didn’t choose them for his reward.”

“He doesn’t eat them, does he?” Tessa asked skeptically. She appeared as a stain of orange against bright white snow, shivering from the cold.

Nelson was grinning at her, obviously amused by her statement. If talking to a murder suspect bothered him, D.D. thought, he didn’t show it. “Most important part of training a dog,” he said now, unloading more supplies from the back of his covered truck bed, “is learning the dog’s motivation. Each pup is different. Some want food. Some affection. Most hone in on a particular toy that becomes the toy. As a handler, you gotta pick up on those signals. When you finally figure out what the reward is, the single item that truly motivates your dog, that’s when the serious training begins.

“Now, Quizo, here”—he gave the shepherd a quick pat on the head—“was a tough nut to crack. Smartest damn dog I ever saw, but only when he felt like it. ’Course, that doesn’t work. I need a dog who searches on command, not when he’s in the mood. Then one day, these two”—he flicked a hand toward the bouncing, barking terriers—“showed up. Had a friend who couldn’t keep ’em anymore. Said I’d help out for a bit, till he could make better arrangements. Well, damned if it wasn’t love at first sight. Miss Kelli and Mr. Skyler ran all over Quizo like twin rugrats and he chased them right back. Which got me to thinking. Maybe playtime with his best buds could be a reward. Tried it out a few times, and bingo. Turns out, Quizo is a bit of a show-off. He doesn’t mind working, he just wants the right audience.

“Now when we arrive on-scene, I bring all three. I’m giving Quizo a moment here to interact with his buds, know they’re on-site. Then Kelli and Skyler will have to be put away—or they’ll be underfoot the entire time, let me tell you—and I’ll give Quizo the command to work. He’ll get right to it, as he understands the sooner he’s completed his mission, the sooner he gets to return to his friends.”

Nelson looked up, regarded Tessa squarely in the eye. “Skyler and Kelli will also help cheer him up,” the canine handler said levelly. “Even SAR dogs don’t like finding bodies. Depresses ’em, making it doubly important for Skyler and Kelli to be here today.”

Was it D.D.’s imagination, or did Tessa finally flinch? Maybe a heart still beat under that fa?ade after all.

D.D. stepped forward, Bobby beside her. She addressed Nelson first. “How much more time do you need?”

He glanced at his dogs, then the rest of the SAR team, unloading in the vehicles strung out behind his. “Fifteen more minutes.”

“Anything more you need from us?” D.D. asked.

Nelson cracked a thin smile. “An X to mark the spot?”

“How do you know when the dogs have found it, made a hit?” D.D. asked curiously. “Quizo will bark … louder?”

“Three-minute sustained bark,” Nelson supplied. “All SAR dogs are trained a little different—some sit to indicate a hit, others have a particular woofing pitch. But given our team specializes in search and rescue, we’ve gone with a three-minute sustained bark, assuming our dogs might be out of sight, behind a tree or boulder, and we might need three minutes to catch up. Works for us.”