“Jolly,” I called.
He appeared from the living room instantly, ears up, body alert. Whatever had been holding his attention at the fence was forgotten. He knew the tone. He knew what it meant.
Time to work.
Chapter 9
Ben
The staging point this time was a gravel pull-off on a fire access road half a mile from the target. No streetlights. Trees close on both sides, their branches cutting the moonlight into fragments on the ground.
Jolly was in his harness, once again focused and ready. Donovan climbed out of the passenger side without a word. We walked toward the cluster of vehicles ahead, where six officers, roughly half of what we had last time, were gearing up in the dim glow of a single dome light from Vance’s SUV.
Six was fine. More than enough to get the job done. Reeves and a couple of other guys I recognized, whose names I couldn’t think of at this second but whose faces I filed away for later.
Briggson wasn’t here. I glanced over at Donovan and could tell he was noticing the same thing. Neither of us was sad about it, but it was definitely worth noting.
Vance stood at the hood of his SUV with a flashlight and a rough sketch of the property layout. He didn’t waste time.
“Target is a rental cabin about a quarter mile north, then two hundred yards west on a private drive. Single story, wood frame, one access road in. Patrol flagged a known user making repeat visits, two, three times a week. Surveillance on the property shows short-stay traffic consistent with distribution. We’ve got enough for probable cause, and the warrant came through an hour ago.”
He tapped the sketch. “Front door here. Back door off the kitchen. Two bedrooms down a hallway on the north side. Small place.”
He ran through the approach, which was similar to the raid a couple nights ago. Donovan would go with the secondary team. Jolly and I would stack with the entry team for suspect apprehension and post-clearance detection work.
Vance had the layout down to where the furniture sat, which direction the doors swung, which rooms had windows worth worrying about. It was impressively polished for relatively recent info.
I’d take it. Info like this could save a life.
“Questions?” Nobody had any. “Then let’s move. Lights off, single file, radio silence until we’re in position.”
The walk in was dark and close. Single file on the fire road, then off onto a narrow dirt track winding through pine and aspen. The ground was soft from recent rain. Less noise underfoot. Good.
I kept Jolly on a short lead at my left side. He’d gone still in a way that had nothing to do with calm. No scanning, no ambient tracking. His focus had narrowed to a single point ahead of us, and his breathing had dropped into the shallow, measured rhythm that meant he’d already decided the work had started. Donovan was somewhere behind me with thesecondary team, splitting off to circle toward the back of the property.
The cabin appeared through the trees. Small, wood-sided, a porch light casting a yellow circle on the front steps. One vehicle in the dirt clearing, a gray pickup, mud on the wheel wells. Lights on inside.
Vance raised a fist. The line stopped.
He hand-signaled the formation. Entry team fanned into position on either side of the front door. I held Jolly back, three officers between us and the breach point. Under my hand, Jolly’s body had gone wire-tight, his weight pressed forward onto his front paws.
I could feel it too. That last held breath before the door goes in, when the world contracts to a pinpoint. Every sound sharpens. Every edge gets crisp. And then the pin pulls and everything moves at once.
One click on the radio. The secondary team was in position.
Vance pointed at the door. Then counted down with his fingers and pulled the metaphorical pin.
“Police! Everybody freeze. Search warrant!”
The breaching ram hit the door, and it swung inward hard, cracking against the wall. The entry team flooded through, a cacophony of yells.
“Hands! Show me your hands! Don’t move!”
“Police. Don’t move.”
“Keep your hands where I can see them!”
I moved in behind the third officer, Jolly pressed against my left leg. The cabin was small and cramped. A living area that bled into a kitchen, cheap furniture, a card table with a lamp and an ashtray. Overhead light was a bare bulb, harsh and flat.
