Chapter Ten #2
Max gave a single bark and Jake’s eyebrows shot up. Whatever his partner had located was not explosive. Most likely herbal, Jake mused as he moseyed up to the counter. He certainly couldn’t fault Trooper Max for his diligence.
“Something stinky, huh?” He rummaged around on the shelf below the counter. His hand fell on a soft bundle of fabric. He pulled out a felt bag with the logo of an expensive brand of liquor embroidered on it. Max gave it another sniff and confirmed his suspicions with another single bark.
Jake smiled as he pulled open the drawstring bag and took a whiff himself. “Whew-wee,” he said, waving a hand in front of his face to disperse the skunklike odor. “Way to go, man,” he said with a chuckle, then gave the dog a congratulatory pat on the head.
But Max wasn’t letting him off easy. The stubborn cuss stayed put until Jake relented and reached into his pocket for a dog treat.
“You’re turning out to be quite the extortionist,” he commented as Max gobbled up the morsel.
Without any sign of remorse, the dog trotted toward the entrance to the booth, satisfied with his work.
Jake looked down at the bag in his hand, then tucked it back onto the shelf. He’d let one of the guys from the LRPD know where they’d found it. Hopefully, they’d be able to nab the owner with it in their possession.
“Hold up, buddy.” Jake stood his ground when Max reached the end of his tether, and the dog sat to wait for him to catch up.
The lingering scent of cooking oil and fried onions coming down the hill from the food court made his stomach grumble. He couldn’t remember if he’d taken more than two bites of the sandwich Cass shared with him.
They started out again but slowed as they approached the site where the duck pond game once stood. Max practically pressed his nose into the asphalt as Jake gave him a minute to explore the scents. He pressed his lips together when he caught sight of Cass sailing past them.
She sat facing forward on the bench, a phone pressed to her ear. How she’d managed to survive all these hours without emptying her stomach, he’d never know. But that was Cass.
Tough.
Stubborn.
Determined.
Amazing.
He watched as she swiped at her hair, catching as much as she could in one hand and holding it back from her face. He smiled when she dropped it almost immediately, needing to gesticulate as she spoke.
He stood rooted to the spot, letting Max sniff to his heart’s content while he drank in the sight of her.
The neat blazer she wore was now rumpled and no doubt stained from her attempts to stay fed and hydrated.
Though her golden-brown hair flew loose around her face, he remembered the way she’d struggled to pull a comb through it after riding with the car window rolled down.
Jake had no doubt it would be a tangle of snarls when she got off the ride.
And they would get her off there.
He backed up a step, preparing to lead Max to the next stall in line, but a second before he turned away, Cass came around again, and this time, she raised a hand in a wave.
Jake waved back, then pointed to Max and the ring-toss game farther down the line. Cass tipped her chin up in acknowledgment, then she disappeared again.
“Come on, Max, let’s try to get down this row before they make us back off.” Time was ticking away, and their tormentor was getting impatient. They didn’t have minute to waste.
They’d barely stepped through the barrier leading to the rear of the booth when a buzzing noise snagged his attention. He searched the sky, but Max turned around, his superior hearing homing in on the source much faster.
A drone.
Black and spiderlike, it flew low along the asphalt walkway.
Jake narrowed his eyes, watching as the module mounted on the top pivoted in a slow sweep.
He took an involuntary step forward as the buzzing grew louder.
From his vantage point, Jake couldn’t tell if its purpose was surveillance or conveyance.
Drones were used to deliver all sorts of mayhem these days.
As it approached, he decided this one would not have a chance.
He watched as it made its way down the row. It banked slightly and sunlight glinted off glass. A camera, not a bomb.
Relief pulsed through him, but it was quickly chased by annoyance.
He couldn’t see any marking on the plastic casing, nor had there been any discussion of law enforcement deploying any as part of the investigation.
Narrowing his eyes, he inspected it as closely as he could from a distance.
It looked exactly like a model he’d seen stacked high at the warehouse club where he stocked up on paper and canned goods.
His first impulse was to reach for his service weapon but shooting it out of the sky was not the best answer.
The machine presented no identifiable threat to human life.
He could shoot it down and mount a decent defense given all that had happened, but the moment he discharged his weapon, a veritable mountain of paperwork and meetings would drop onto his head like a cartoon anvil.
Besides, the toy might belong to their bomber. If he could knock it down without destroying it, they may be able to lift a fingerprint or some other useful information off it.
He looked around, and sure enough, he spotted a better alternative.
A wooden pole stretching about six feet long and sporting a metal hook drilled into the end leaned up against the corner of the booth. Jake recalled seeing carnival workers using similar tools to pull down the larger prizes they dangled high above the contestants’ heads.
“Stay,” he ordered Max. Then, dropping his end of the dog’s lead, he took hold of the pole with both hands.
The drone approached from his left, so Jake slipped out and around a neighboring booth in hopes of sneaking up on it before its operator became aware.
It was a good plan.