Courage Under Fire
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Sharon Dunn
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Rookie K-9 officer Lani Branson took in a deep breath as she pedaled her bike along the trail in the Jamaica Bay Wildlife Refuge. She could hear birds chattering. Water rushed and receded from the shore just over the dunes. The high-rises of New York City, made hazy from the dusky twilight, were visible across the expanse of water.
She sped up even more.
Tonight was important. This training exercise was an opportunity to prove herself to the other K-9 officers who waited back at the visitors’ center with the tracking dogs for her to give the go-ahead. Playing the part of a child lost in the refuge so the dogs could practice tracking her was probably a less than desirable duty for the senior officers. As a new recruit to the NYC K-9 Command Unit, she understood the pecking order. If she did a good job tonight, she’d be given more responsibility.
Though she was in solid shape, her leg muscles strained as she willed herself to pedal even faster. The trail ended. She pushed her bike into a hiding place in the brush and headed toward the tall grass that surrounded the shore. A flock of birds took to the air. Their squawking and flapping of wings filled the gray sky. Her heart beat a little faster. God’s creation never ceased to amaze her.
She stuttered in her step, squinting to make out details in the early evening light. She wondered what had alarmed the birds. Though people might be around the surrounding area, the rangers had secured this part of the refuge for the training exercise. That didn’t mean someone curious about what the NYPD was up to hadn’t snuck into the area. Could be anything or nothing at all, sometimes birds just decided to fly away.
She ran through the tall grass that bordered the salt marsh and then toward the open area of the dunes. She needed to get far enough away for it to be a challenge for the dogs to find her.
As a sense of unease invaded her awareness, she stopped. She had felt on edge for the last few days. A car had tailed her through traffic just this morning and more than once she’d felt the press of a gaze on her only to turn and see no one.
Reaching up to her shoulder, Lani pressed the button on the radio. “I’m in place.”
The smooth tenor voice of her supervisor, Chief Noah Jameson, came over the line. “Good, you made it out there in record time.”
As she hurried steadily toward the tall brush, Lani had an extra bounce in her step. Since her training as a K-9 officer had begun, that was the first compliment Noah had given her. Noah had been appointed the interim chief of the NYC K-9 Command Unit after the untimely death of his brother Jordan—the former chief. A permanent replacement was yet to be named.
Noah’s voice floated over the radio. “Remember, move like a five-year-old would.”
“Ten-four.” In fact, Noah always seemed to be quite tight-lipped whenever she was around. He had a great deal on his mind. Jordan had been murdered months ago and the investigation had stalled. All the same, Noah seemed to be extra quiet around her. She took his silence to be disapproval. Maybe like some of the other officers, he didn’t think she was up to the job.
Lani was a natural athlete with a background as a self-defense instructor and a dancer. She’d graduated from the academy with flying colors and she had an older brother, Reed, who was also with the unit. It was her former profession as an actress that probably made them wonder if she would make the cut. All officers earned a nickname sooner or later. Hers was less than flattering. They called her Cover Girl. Never mind that she’d never worked as a model. She was stuck with the name...for now. Lani gritted her teeth. The rest of the team just didn’t know what she was made of.
She entered a grove of trees. The dry autumn leaves crackled as the breeze rushed over them. It could be up to an hour before the dogs found her. The refuge was thousands of acres. The places a child could get lost were infinite. She passed a wooden box on a stake. A barn owl peeked out of the round hole in the box. Jamaica Bay was home to hundreds of species of birds. This time of year, the raptors showed up.
Lani was New York City born and bred. One of her favorite memories was of her grandfather taking her to see the eagles.
Knowing that a child would not move in a logical way, she headed back toward the shore and ran along the beach for a while before zigzagging back into the brush. Her heart pounded in her chest. Though she still had her radio, her instructions were not to communicate with the rest of the team.
Up ahead she spotted an object shining in the setting sun. She jogged toward it. A bicycle, not hers, was propped against a tree.
A knot of tension formed at the back of her neck as she turned a half circle, taking in the area around her. It was possible someone had left the bike behind. Vagrants could have wandered into the area.
She studied the bike a little closer. State-of-the-art and in good condition. Not the kind of bike someone just dumped.
Still puzzled by her find, Lani hurried deeper into the trees and then sat down on the ground. A five-year-old would stop and rest, she reasoned, maybe even fall asleep. She stared at the sky.
The noisy chatter of the gulls and other birds feeding hummed in the background. Wind rustled the leaves, some of them already golden and red, others still green, creating a sort of song.
She listened, thinking she might hear the baying of the dogs as they picked up her scent and tracked her. No. It was too soon for that. Though it would have been a welcome sound.
A branch cracked. Her breath caught in her throat. To the best of her knowledge, there were no large animals on the refuge, only squirrels, rodents and raccoons. Fear caused her heartbeat to drum in her ears. She touched the radio on her shoulder.
More noise landed on her ears. Whatever was in the thick brush that surrounded her was on the move.
She took her hand off the radio, shaking her head. It would not go over big for her to push the panic button over some nocturnal creature looking for its dinner.
Lani rose to her feet and headed toward the tall grass where she would lie down as though she’d fallen asleep. The dogs and their handlers needed to read the signs she left behind. Her feet pounded the hard-packed ground as she turned back to the shore. The cacophony of the birds feeding by the water’s edge grew louder.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement, a bright color. Human? The rest of the team couldn’t have found her that fast.
“NYPD.” She hadn’t worn her gun for this exercise. Her eyes scanned all around her, searching for movement and color. “You need to show yourself.”
Seconds ticked by. Her heart pounded.
Someone else was out here.
Again, it was possible that a junkie or vagrant had found a way to avoid detection and was making the refuge his or her home.
The birds quieted as the sun slipped lower in the sky. All she heard was the sound of her own heartbeat. Her hand moved to the radio. She needed to at least inform Noah that someone else was lurking in the bushes. She clicked the radio on and turned her head to speak into it.
A hand slapped hers and yanked the radio off her shoulder. Automatically, she reacted with an elbow punch to her assailant’s stomach.
Her attacker groaned in pain but did not relent in his attack. He restrained her by locking her neck in the crook of his elbow while he pulled her arm behind her and pushed it up at a painful angle with his other hand.
The fear that invaded every cell of her body was overridden by her years of training in self-defense. She kicked him hard in the shin. His grip didn’t loosen at all. The man was strong and had a high tolerance for pain.
He held on tight, dragging her toward the tall grass and the water. Her arm burned from pain as he bent it behind her back and pushed it upward.
She planted her feet.
Her resistance seemed to fuel his anger. He squeezed her neck tighter.
She struggled for air. She kicked him several times even as dots formed in her field of vision. He jerked back and up with his crooked arm. She landed one more intense blow to his leg.
His grip loosened enough for her to twist free. She ran only a few steps before he grabbed her shirt and dragged her back toward him. She spun around landing a chop to his neck designed to cause pain by pinching nerves. The move disabled her attacker long enough for her to get a head start.
The ground was softer this close to the shore. The water of the bay shimmered in her peripheral vision as she sprinted. She needed to get back up to the trail to find her bike before he could grab her again.
The landscape darkened and shadows covered the trees and bushes as the last light of the sun faded. His footsteps pounded behind her. She willed herself to go faster. Air filled her lungs and her breathing intensified. She veered off, hoping to head back up toward the trail and her bike.
She attacker remained close at her heels. Just as she arrived at her bike, he grabbed her. She whirled around, getting in several solid blows. He grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around.
The attacker wrapped his arms around her, coming at her from behind. He seemed to want to restrain her rather than fight back. His arms suctioned around her like an anaconda. His mouth was very close to her ear.
“There now,” he said.
His warm breath and sickly sweet words sent a new wave of fear through her. When she tried to twist free, he tightened his grip on her waist.
Then she heard a most welcome sound, the dogs baying and barking. Still some distance away but clearly headed toward her.
The man let go of her and stepped back. He wore a hat and she could not see his face in the dim light. Clearly frightened by the approaching dogs, he turned to go. She wasn’t about to let him get away. She leaped through the air, seeking to knock him to the ground. The attacker did not fall, which left her hanging on to his back.
“NYPD,” she shouted.
He shook her off, ran a few paces and then bent over.
She caught up with him. He swung around. In the darkness, she had not seen him pick up the rock he now had in his hand. It hit the side of her head. Her knees buckled.
The ground drew ever closer as dots filled her field of vision.
Her attacker loomed above her. “Next time.”
She heard his retreating footsteps as her world went black.
Noah Jameson’s heartbeat ticked up a notch as he let his Rottweiler, Scotty, pick up the scent of Officer Lani Branson. Three dogs on their long leads sniffed, barked and circled back to spots before taking off on the trail. Officer Finn Gallagher’s K-9 partner, a yellow Lab trained in search and rescue, took the lead. Reed Branson, Lani’s brother, followed with bloodhound Jessie, a tracking K-9.
The dogs’ enthusiasm was infectious. This kind of excitement made him feel alive. This was what he loved about police work, the action. Being out in the field nourished him even if it was just a training exercise. It beat sitting behind a desk putting out administrative fires and keeping the upper brass happy.
Until his murder last spring, Noah’s older brother Jordan had been the chief of the NYC K-9 Command Unit. Though there had been some jockeying for the job, Noah had been the one appointed to fill his brother’s shoes, temporarily at least. He missed working the street with Scotty, chasing down leads and suspects. More than anything, he missed his older brother. That the NYPD, himself included, had been unable to track down Jordan’s killer only made the wound more raw and the grief harder to bear.
Scotty kept his nose to the ground as they worked their way along the path. Scotty was trained in emergency services which meant he could do a little of everything. The other dogs kept pace with Scotty.
So far the trail had been easy enough to follow, but they hadn’t found Lani’s bicycle yet. Once she got off the bike, she’d been instructed to move in the same erratic pattern a five-year-old might take. Though he had his concerns about Lani’s ability to be a K-9 officer, she had a good attitude about being the guinea pig.
A tightening in his chest indicated his doubts were getting the better of him. Once she was in place, Lani was to have no communication with him or anyone on the team. He thought he’d heard the radio turn on and then off suddenly. It was probably nothing. Lani was in great physical condition and had done well at the academy, it was just that her chattiness made her come across as lacking confidence. Anytime he had interacted with her, Lani tended to talk a mile a minute.
The sky darkened as they headed up the trail. Noah and the other officers jogged to keep up with the dogs. They worked their way on the path running for at least twenty minutes. The dogs stopped and split off the trail, each of them alerting and then sniffing in a circle. This must be where Lani had left the trail.
Noah followed Scotty through the tangled brush.
“Come on, boy, you can find her.”
Scotty raised his head, sniffed the air and then put his nose back on the ground. He picked up the scent again. They headed off the trail into the tall grass. Scotty lifted his head and sat on his back haunches. That was his hard alert. Noah stared into the brush. Metal shone in the waning light.
He’d found the bicycle.
Noah spoke into his radio. “Scotty’s picked up the trail.”
The two other dogs bayed and fell in behind Scotty. The dogs took them across the dunes back into the trees and down to the shore. Though he could still hear the barking, the dogs spread out as they moved through the trees.
Reed’s panic-filled voice came across the line. “We got a problem. You better come see this.”
Noah could see Reed and Jessie through the tangle of brush. Judging from the high-pitched baying, Jessie was excited. No sign of Lani. He shortened the lead on Scotty and hurried through the trees.
“What is it?”
Reed held up a police radio. Lani’s. Reed’s voice filled with concern. “She wouldn’t tear it off herself. Something’s gone wrong.”
There was only a small chance the radio had gotten hung up on something as she ran. Noah’s thoughts raced as he took in the scene around him. Both dogs indicated a high level of excitement. The grass was smashed down. Some sort of struggle had taken place.
“The dogs will find her. If someone else is out here too, we’ll find him as well.”
Noah radioed the other handler, Finn, to see if his Lab picked up on any new scent.
As they followed the dogs through the brush, Noah pushed away any negative thoughts. If he’d learned anything from his K-9 partner, it was to stay focused.
Reed and Jessie headed in a different direction, maybe toward whomever else was out here.
Scotty worked methodically. Jessie sniffed a different area, more toward the shore, trying to find the trail. A new level of panic invaded Noah’s awareness as Scotty worked his way through the brush and then sat down, head held high.
Noah saw Lani’s blond hair visible in the moonlight. Her motionless body twisted at an odd angle set off alarm bells as he hurried toward her.
He drew close and kneeled beside her. Scotty emitted a whine and then leaned to lick Lani’s face. Still, she did not move.
“I’m worried too,” said Noah. As he gazed at her motionless body, the grief over the loss of his brother hit him like a semitruck. Another officer wasn’t going to die, not on his watch. His fingers touched Lani’s neck. Her pulse pushed back on his fingertips. He breathed a sigh of relief. She was still alive. There was a bruise on the side of her head. Her hair had worked loose of the tight bun she kept it in when on duty. Signs that she’d been in a fight.
While Noah radioed for medical help, Reed rushed toward them through the tangle of brush.
He let out a groan as he knelt beside his sister.
Lani’s eyes fluttered open, and she lifted her head and shoulders. On impulse, he gathered her into his arms.
“She’s alive,” said Noah. His voice filled with elation. “We need to call for backup. Get some more searchers to the refuge. Someone attacked Lani and we need to find him before he escapes.”
