Izzy signed first on the woman. She was searched and a weapon missed in the initial discovery was found.
“Gute Hund!” Scott patted Izzy. Screaming and kicking, the woman tried to get at Izzy, who, safely out of reach, watched her with the detached interest she would have shown in a cavorting puppy.
One of the men was found to be concealing a cell phone in his shoe.
Once the suspects were locked down, Izzy’s main job began.
“Izzy. Such.” Scott took off behind Izzy, who went with methodical efficiency over every inch of the hellhole.
She signed on the sofa, which was missing its cushions. And on a spot behind a TV. Both places yielded a few one-pound packets of heroin. In the kitchen Izzy gave sign at an unplugged refrigerator that had twenty thousand dollars in cash taped to the underside.
Finally, Scott and Izzy moved into the bedroom, where two dozen puppies, two to four months old by the look of them, were corralled inside a large wooden crate.
Izzy put her paws up on the edge of the crate and began howling, so strong was the scent of drugs in her sensitive nostrils.
Scott scooped up what looked like a poodle and turned him belly up. A long bloody sutured seam lined his belly.
He held the puppy up for the SWAT team captain to see. “And that, gentlemen, is how it’s done.”
The group around him smiled and slapped him on the back. Mission accomplished.
Scott gave Izzy a treat as they stepped back out into the fresh night air. There had always been the possibility that the information Jennifer and Lorene had given the DEA would be wrong or out-of-date. But they had lucked out. After the women delivered their puppies to the assigned place in Baltimore, DEA agents had followed the drug puppies to this location. Jennifer and Lorene would be happy. Lattimore would be even happier.
*
“The women are retirees, living on small pensions, who say they were recruited with a story of animal abuse.”
Scott took a moment to click up the next photo in his presentation to the DEA task force he and Cole had been dismissed from only a week earlier. A picture of Jennifer Lutz and Lorene Doggett in matching floral tops and white walking shorts appeared on the screen.
“Their job was to pick up a litter of pups in one state and deliver them to people in another state who, they were told, would then take them to no-kill shelters where they could be adopted.”
“Regular Robin Hoods of the dog world,” one task force member commented.
The table of participants snickered over the possibility of their do-gooder status.
“You believe them?” asked another.
Scott didn’t take a position. “The pups were stuffed with drugs. The women must have had their suspicions. But, like many civilians recruited to be carriers, they didn’t want to know. The initial urge to do good plus the lure of untaxable cash probably made it easy for them to look the other way.”
Cole, who sat in the back of the room, finally felt compelled to speak. “After Agent Lucca and I approached them, it was a simple matter to persuade the women that they might mitigate their crime by cooperating with the authorities. As a good-faith gesture, they gave us their next drop-off point. And, as you are aware, the raid over the weekend was successful.”
Scott brought up the shot of the puppies and bags of heroin taken in the raid. “In a show of good faith, the women have offered to continue their puppy deliveries and feed us leads until DEA can work our way back to the source.”
“So we’d be using a geriatric Thelma and Louise of the canine drug world as informants.” Lattimore rubbed his chin. “Our liability and reputations will take a big hit if anything goes wrong.”
Scott nodded. “Above my pay scale. Good luck with that. That’s all I’ve got.”
“Shit to Sherlock within a week. Nice going, Lucca.” FBI Agent Hadley glanced at Cole. “You, too, Officer Jamieson.”
When they broke up a few minutes later, Scott and Cole hurried to leave but Lattimore stepped into their path. “That was really fine detective work the pair of you did. It will go in your jackets.”
Cole warmed with the praise. “Thank you, sir.”
Scott was more reserved. “All in a day’s work.”
Lattimore’s genial expression resolved into its usual neutral. “Now, about this other matter of X. Agent Lucca and Officer Jamieson, would you follow me? I have someone I want you to meet.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Cole made her mind a blank as she dressed. She put on a sports bra, tee, and cargo pants, under which she’d strapped her snub-nose pistol to her calf with nylon webbing. Then she put on her heaviest all-terrain boots with steel toes and stuffed her cuffs inside.