“None of them have worked with a dog before,” Vance said. “Most of them are still figuring out where to stand so they don’t get in Jolly’s way.”
“Which is exactly what the training’s for.” I kept my tone neutral, professional. “Next week, we’ll start putting Jolly out front and making the team follow his lead.”
“Any early reads on handler candidates?” Rawlings asked. “I know it’s only been a week, but I’d like to start narrowing the pool.”
Part of our job—the public-facing part—was evaluating which officers had the right temperament and instincts to work with a K9 partner. The department had funding for the program, but no one trained to run it yet. That decision would come from Rawlings, based in part on our recommendation.
Donovan and I exchanged a glance. He gave me a slight nod—your call.
“A few possibilities,” I said. “Briggson’s interested. Reads canine behavior well. The foundational skills are there.”
“But?” Rawlings asked.
Donovan shrugged. “Dude’s got a temper. That doesn’t always pair well with canine training.”
“That’s just Seth.” Rawlings rubbed his jaw. “Known him eight years. Good cop, bad attitude.”
“There are a couple others showing promise too,” Donovan said. “Reeves, maybe? He’s green but has the temperament to be a handler. It’s hard to tell.”
Rawlings nodded, making a note on a legal pad.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “What we really need in order to be able to give you better feedback on potential K9 handlers is to see them in live action, not just training. Training, even making it as real as you can in a simulator, is never the same thing as an actual op.”
There it was. The real reason for this meeting. The chief met my eyes unflinchingly, then glanced at Donovan before settling on Vance.
Now we waited to see if a week’s worth of training had set us up well enough for our true mission.
“Eric, what do you think?” Rawlings asked. “Will the guys balk if Ben and Donovan tag along for real police work?”
I didn’t say more to sell our case. Neither did Donovan. Both of us knew the value of keeping silent while things shook out.
Vance shrugged a shoulder. “I think the guys respect them. They obviously know how to handle themselves, based on the training. There might be a little pushback, from people I don’t necessarily need to mention by name, but they’ll fall in line.”
“You okay with it?” Rawlings leaned back in his chair as if he was okay with this situation going either way. “The rest of the team will follow your lead.”
Vance shot a grin at us. “I’ve got no problem with it. Anything that makes us better cops, I’m all for.”
Bingo.
Donovan grinned back. “Better watch it, Chief, or Citadel may try to recruit your man here.”
Honestly, it wasn’t a terrible idea.
“Over my fucking dead body,” Rawlings shot back. He turned to Vance. “Eric, tell them about the Ridgeline situation.”
Vance set down his coffee and straightened. “We’ve been building a case on a suspected stash house over on the west side. Rental cabin not too far from the slopes on Ridgeline Road. Narcotics has had it flagged for about three weeks—unusual foot traffic, vehicles coming and going at odd hours, complaints from neighbors. We’ve got enough to move on it.”
“When?” I asked.
“Forty-eight hours. Monday night, maybe Tuesday if the warrant takes longer than expected.” He looked at Rawlings, waiting.
The chief nodded. “I want Ben and Donovan embedded with the entry team. Same positions you’ve been training from. It’ll give the officers a chance to see how the K9 integration works under real conditions.”
“We’ll be ready,” I said.
Rawlings leaned back. “Eric, I think that’s everything on your end. I want to pick Ben’s and Donovan’s brains on some equipment purchases for the K9 program before they go.”
Vance nodded, already standing. “I’ll loop you both in on the raid details as soon as I have them.” He gave us a casual salute on his way out. “See you Monday, if not sooner.”
