Riley moved off, Sarge following beside her, and Jade settled into her chair. The morning sun was warm on her shoulders, the air carrying the scent of freshly cut grass and the distant promise of food vendors setting up near the parking lot. Children’s voices rose in excitement as the first K-9 team took the field.
Jade opened her water bottle and took a sip, letting the park’s energy wash over her. She’d position herself here to watch the officers interact with their community, watch the families respond, watch the careful choreography of trust being built.
And yes, she’d watch Maddox Shaw with Zeus because Riley was right: it’d be helpful to see her outside the therapy room, in her element, showing a face that had nothing to do with their mandatory sessions and dodging her questions.
Purely professional observation, Jade told herself, though she suspected Maddox would hate being observed in any context.
At precisely ten-thirty, Jade spotted Maddox’s K-9 vehicle pulling into the designated area near the demonstration field and watched as Maddox emerged and moved to the rear door with the kind of efficiency that suggested this was less a performance than a habit. Zeus materialized a moment later, dropping to the ground and immediately taking position at Maddox’s left heel without needing to be told.
From fifty feet away at her booth, Jade had a clear vantage point.
Maddox wore utility gear—black tactical pants, dark navy department-issue polo, and black lace-up boots built for function rather than ceremony. No dress uniform, nothing for show, just the practical tools of someone who prioritized the work over entertainment. Her short-cropped hair was brushed through, and sunglasses shielded her eyes as she surveyed the crowd with the same careful assessment Jade had seen in their sessions.
But something was different here.
The rigid control was still present and her inner walls were firmly in place, but Maddox’s shoulders sat differently. They were less defensive, more settled. She was in her element, and she moved through it with the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly what she was doing.
Zeus matched her stride perfectly, his entire focus on Maddox even as they navigated through families and excited children reaching out to pet him. A Belgian Malinois in his prime was all muscle and alertness, but he was still contained and disciplined. Zeus ignored the other dogs, shouting kids, and the general chaos of the park, his attention locked on Maddox like she was the only thing in the world that existed.
Jade found herself leaning forward slightly, forgetting about the pamphlets on her table.
Maddox exchanged brief nods with other officers who Jade didn’t yet recognize as she passed. It was minimal interaction, but she was present. Not avoiding, just economical with her energy. She stopped at the demonstration area, conferred briefly with Riley who was wrapping up her own session with Sarge, then moved to the center of the field.
The crowd shifted, parents herding children closer, everyone wanted a better view. Maddox waited, Zeus sitting at perfect attention beside her, until the collective noise settled to something manageable.
“Good morning.” Maddox’s voice carried across the field without shouting, authority woven through every word, but there wasn’t any harshness. “I’m Officer Maddox Shaw with the Phoenix Ridge K-9 Unit, and this is Zeus, my partner. We’re going to show you what a working police dog can do, and I’ll explain what you’re seeing as we go.
She didn’t smile or soften her delivery with unnecessary warmth, but her tone held patience nonetheless.
“First thing you need to know: Zeus is working right now, which means no one approaches him or calls to him. And no one tries to pet him until I say otherwise. Working dogs need to stay focused, and distractions are dangerous. Understood?”
A chorus of acknowledgement rose from the crowd, kids nodding solemnly.
“Good. Let’s start with basic obedience.”
What followed was nothing short of a masterclass in precision. Maddox guided Zeus through all the fundamentals—sit, stay, heel, recall—with commands that were clear and firm but never harsh. Zeus responded instantly to each one, his body language shifting with flawless timing. When Maddox told him to stay and walked fifty feet away, Zeus didn’t so much as twitch, his eyes tracking her movement but his position static.
“Stay means stay,” Maddox explained to the crowd. “Zeus won’t move until I release him, even if something more interesting comes along. That’s the foundation of everything we do: trust and discipline.”
She called him then, just a single word, and Zeus was in motion, closing the distance in seconds and dropping into a perfect sit at her heel. The crowd applauded, but Zeus didn’t react.
Jade watched Maddox’s hand drop briefly to Zeus’s head, a quick touch that might’ve been praise or reassurance or simply connection. The gesture was so fast most people probablymissed it, but Jade caught the way Maddox’s shoulders eased fractionally and how Zeus leaned infinitesimally into her contact.
They exuded partnership. Not just good training, but genuine partnership.
“Next, we’ll do a search pattern,” Maddox said. She gestured to Officer Brennan, who’d been standing at the edge of the field with a small cloth bundle. “Officer Tammy Brennan is going to hide an object somewhere in this area, then Zeus and I are going to find it.”
Maddox turned away, giving Brennan space to work. The officer jogged across the field, tucking the bundle under a section of temporary fencing near the tree line, then returned and nodded curtly.
“Zeus, seek.”
The transformation was immediate. Zeus went from controlled stillness to focused intensity, nose to the ground, working a methodical grid pattern across the field. Maddox moved with him, trusting his lead. Within two minutes, Zeus alerted at the fence line, sitting and staring at the spot where the object was hidden.
“Good boy.” Maddox’s voice held warmth Jade had never heard in their sessions, not once. She retrieved the cloth bundle and held it up for the crowd to see. “Zeus is trained to find specific scents, like narcotics, explosives, even missing people. His nose is about forty times more sensitive than yours or mine. When he finds what he’s looking for, he alerts and we know where to focus our attention.”
More applause rang out. Maddox’s expression didn’t change, but something about her posture suggested satisfaction and pride in Zeus’s performance.
The final demonstration was controlled aggression, and the crowd’s collective energy shifted, excitement mixing with nervousness.
