Shooting Stars

A few words from the author:

Everything about K-9s in this story comes from internet research and my imagination. I tried to be accurate, but took artistic license where it fit the story; I'm sure some of the K-9 commands are used improperly or aren't even real. Never any disrespect intended. I have nothing but admiration for those officers and their partners.

Just a side note; I did learn that most police dogs are trained to recognize commands in German. But since my character is no longer on active duty, and his dog is not an actual police dog, I stuck with English. It was easier for the story.

Also, not sure if police 10 codes vary among jurisdictions. I found one source and tried to stay consistent.

I do want to give a huge shoutout. While I wrote this, I kept thinking about YouDidWhut's most excellent story, 'Bandit.' If you have not read it, please do. Consider this an unworthy tribute.

No editors were harmed during the creation of this story.

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The pre-dawn air was chilly, as Laika and I left the townhouse. Laika was my lab mix rescue. I've had her for four years now, and she was probably - heck, definitely - my best friend. She was a little stockier than a standard Labrador, leading me to believe she was mixed with a boxer or something similar. But whatever her breeding, she was a very well-mannered dog, and we spent a lot of time training. She took to it well and was remarkably intelligent and responsive.

We were headed out for our morning walk, and hadn't gone very far at all, when she noticed something. I followed her gaze, and sitting on the curb was a small figure, knees drawn up tight to her (?) chest, and a thin hoodie pulled down over her legs, obviously trying to stay warm. Not sure why I assumed it was a girl; maybe because the hoodie was pink. At least it looked pink, in the early dawnlight. Anyway, she had her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, hands tucked inside the sleeves of the sweatshirt.

I thought maybe it was someone waiting for the school bus, but realized it was much too early. As I drew alongside, I saw that it was not a girl, but rather, a small boy who couldn't have been older than six or seven. Great police instincts, Brody, I thought ruefully.

He saw me, and his head jerked up, staring at me and Laika.

"Sit," I whispered to her, and she did so, gazing at the boy.

I crouched, wincing at the pain in my knee, then spoke. "Hey, it's okay, I won't hurt you. I used to be a policeman. Are you okay?"

His voice came out in a whisper. "Momma... momma said I should wun."

Oh, shit. "Where's your momma, son?"

He pointed to the apartments across the road from mine. I lived in a sprawling complex of one-, two-, and three-bedroom units, housed in two-story buildings with four to six units per building. It was okay, not the greatest, but not bad. I had one of the three-bedroom townhomes, with a modest backyard that had a high privacy fence around it.

Where the boy was pointing, though... not so nice at all. I'd responded to more than a few calls there when I was still on the force.

But I just nodded, and asked, "What apartment do you live in, do you know?"

"I can show you," the boy whispered again.

Not wanting to leave him alone, I nodded again, and we started across the road. It was four lanes, with a narrow concrete median. Not a highway, but still, normally busy. Thankfully this early, there were few cars out and we jogged across.

As we walked, I said, "I'm Brody. What's your name?"

"Jewemiah. But Momma calls me Wemmy."

We passed a few units, and then the boy pointed up at one of them. "The gween door," he whispered. Poor kid, I hoped he eventually outgrew that speech thing.

"I see it. You stay here, okay? I'm going to leave my dog here with you to protect you. Her name is Laika." I tucked her leash into her harness so it wouldn't get caught on anything, should she need to move.

When I said her name, her ears perked up.

"Friend," I said to her, pointing at the boy. "Stay." She took up position in front of him.

I headed toward the apartment. As I drew nearer, I heard something crash. I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.

> 911, please state the nature of your emergency.

> Suspected 10-16 (the code for a domestic problem), at... and I gave her the address. 10-78 (the code for 'need assistance.')

> Please stay on the line sir, a unit is responding.

> 10-4.

Leaving the connection open, I approached the door. I turned the knob slowly, and it opened. As I did so, I distinctly heard the sound of a fist hitting flesh, and a yelp. A woman's voice.

Then another voice, on the knife-edge of losing control, "Where's my shit, you fucking bitch?" Followed by the sound of a slap, and another cry of pain.

Keeping low, I stuck my head into the entryway, while whispering urgently,

> 10-31 (act in progress). Entering. 10-52 (ambulance needed).

> Negative, sir, officers are on the way, ETA four minutes.

> Don't have four minutes. I repeat, 10-52.

> Acknowledged, but please wait for the officers.

I didn't respond. Keeping low, I slid completely into the room. I didn't see anything, but could hear the sounds of cursing and whimpering coming from down the hall.

"Tell me where it is, or I'll kill your fucking brat!"

"NO!" the woman screamed, and I heard a scrabbling noise, like someone trying to get up quickly, but then I heard another thud and a crack, and a moan of agony.

I couldn't wait any longer. Hoping the guy was focused on the woman, I kicked open the door where the noise was coming from, then cursed myself as pain lanced through my knee. I kept my footing though, and swept my weapon across the room.

I scanned the room to quickly focus on a skinny, 5' 8" dude with stringy dark hair. He had a piece of something in his hand; it looked like maybe a chair leg or a broken broom handle, and he was standing over a small blond-haired woman who had on too much makeup, and her tears of pain and fear had streaked it all down her face. She was holding her forearm, and I thought it might be broken.

Out of pure force of habit, I yelled, "POLICE! DROP YOUR WEAPON AND PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!"

She looked at me desperately but I had no time for her, because when the guy turned his frenzied glare at me, I could see his pupils were so dilated that he had almost no iris at all. Oh shit.

I had my weapon aimed at his chest. "Don't even think about it. Just set the stick down."

"You don't get it, man!" He cackled hysterically. "The bitch stole my shit, and now Jimmy is gonna kill me!" He reached into his back pocket and flicked open a switchblade.

For a moment, I stared at him. A switchblade? Really? But I shouted again, "Drop it and get on the floor!"

He screamed and leapt at me, and my training took over. I put two .40 caliber rounds in his chest, and he dropped like a stone. The girl screamed and tried to curl up in a ball.

The phone line was still open, and I said to the dispatcher,

> Suspect is down. I repeat suspect is down. Also, please advise the responding officers, I am a retired K-9 officer, and I have my dog with me as well as a small boy. Please advise them not to approach either without me present. Copy, dispatch?

> Acknowledged.

When I went to the door, I could hear sirens. Just to be safe, I yelled, "Laika, heel!" In a moment, she came tearing up to stand beside me. "Good girl. Jeremiah, come on up here, son, it's all right!" When he got there, I asked him to wait in the kitchen for the police to arrive.

Then I turned and went back into the bedroom.

The woman was staring wide-eyed at the body. I went and knelt in front of her, cutting off her line of sight. "Miss? It's all right now. Miss? Can you hear me? I found Jeremiah, he's safe."

At that, she burst into tears and wrapped her uninjured arm around my neck. "Oh my God I thought he was going to kill us both," she sobbed hoarsely.

"When Sonny got back, I could see he was all kinds of fucked up... he started right in, and I told Remmy to run..." she started sobbing again.

"Hey, it's over, it's over. You're ok." I tried my best to console her.

Just then I heard "POLICE!" from the front door.

"Back here, officers. All secure." I tossed my weapon and my ID onto the bed, out of reach, and sat on the floor holding her.

"Laika, down." She lay beside me, watching, as the officers came into the room, weapons drawn. As they should. Never take an unknown voice's word.

They quickly focused on me, and I held my hands in plain sight.

"Brody Mathews, officers. Retired K-9. The boy alerted me to the disturbance. The weapon and ID on the bed are mine." I didn't move; I knew the drill. One of them kept me covered while the other secured my weapon and checked my ID. He nodded at his partner, and he lowered his sidearm.

"Where's Remmy?" the woman asked piteously.

"The boy," I said to the officers. I glanced significantly at the body, and they covered it with the bedspread.

They nodded, and I called, "In here, Jeremiah."

He came running in, crying, and threw his arms around the woman's neck. She let go of me to hug him with her free hand, but winced as he tried to crawl into her lap.

"Pretty sure that left arm is broken," I said to the officers. "I heard it when he hit her with that," and pointed to the chair leg.

One of the officers spoke quickly into his radio, listened for a moment, and then said, "Ambulance will be here in two minutes."

I nodded. "Miss? Umm, I'm Brody, can I ask your name?"

"Molly," she whispered.

"Okay, Molly, you're going to need to go to the hospital to get that arm looked at. Do you have anyone to look after Jeremiah?"

"No," she whispered, even more softly.

I thought for a moment. The last thing I wanted was for social services to get involved, not before I knew more about the situation and what would be best for the boy. Once he was in the system, it would be very difficult to get him out.

"Okay, Molly? Do you give me permission to look after him while you get checked out? I'll bring him with me and come straight to the hospital, I promise. I can give you a ride home after you're all patched up. Is that okay with you?"

"Okay," she said, without really thinking. Still in shock. "Thank you."

I gave a brief statement to the officers and promised to come down in the morning for a more complete report.

"Sorry Brody, gonna have to keep this as evidence," one of them said as he bagged my Glock. "You should get it back, eventually." He handed me my ID.

"No worries, guys. Been there, done that."

The paramedics arrived, and quickly stabilized Molly's arm as gently as they could. She still cried out once, which made Jeremiah start to cry too, but she was able to calm him. They questioned her about other injuries, but she just shook her head. They looked at each other, and I knew what they were thinking.

I whispered to one of them, "Which hospital?"

"St. Anne's."

"Thanks... Oh, and... can you request a full exam? Just to be sure."

"We'll recommend it; she doesn't have to comply, though."

I thought again. "If Joanne is on duty in the ER, ask her to talk to the girl."

They nodded, smiling. Joanne Collier was a bit of a force of nature. She was very hard to say no to.

I turned back to her. "Molly? These two are going to take good care of you. And Jeremiah and I will be there as soon as I can get my truck."

"Okay." She still looked a little panicky, though.

I looked her in the eye. "Hey. It's going to be okay. I promise."

She relaxed a tiny bit, and they loaded her onto the gurney, and Jeremiah started to get upset.

"Hey, buddy, don't worry, she's going to be fine. They're just going to take her to get her arm fixed. I'm going to bring you right to her, okay? Would you like to ride with Laika and me in my truck?"

He nodded, a small smile appearing on his face.

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We carefully crossed back over to my apartment complex, and I went inside to get a new sidearm.

"Jeremiah? You hungry?"

He nodded.

I looked in my pantry for kid-appropriate breakfast food.

"Sorry buddy, all I have are Cheerios. But they're apple-cinnamon?" I offered. Sue me, I liked them.

He nodded again, a bit more vigorously.

We had a quick meal, and I gave him a small glass of orange juice, which he slugged down like a pro, and I gave Laika her breakfast.

I grabbed a couple of waters and led him out to the truck. Opening the back, door, I told Laika, "Up," and she jumped in. I lifted Jeremiah up beside her and strapped him in. He was too small to be riding in the front, especially without a booster seat.

But he gazed around the interior of my truck, his eyes wide.

"Whoa, cool..."

I chuckled. It wasn't a police vehicle, but it did have a few bells and whistles. There was no cage separating the front and back, though.

We got rolling and arrived at St. Anne's in short order. Laika had her 'Service Dog' harness on, and so I was able to bring her in. I told the receptionist who we were there to see, and she directed us to the ER bay she was waiting in.

"Remmy!" she cried, when we peeked in. He ran to her, and I lifted him up to sit on the bed with her, and adjusted it for her, so she was sitting a bit more upright.

I noticed she still had on the splint that the paramedics had applied, so I assumed she hadn't gone back for X-rays yet.

"How are you feeling?" I asked.

She wouldn't look at me. "I'm fine... thank you for looking after Remmy. You don't have to wait."

"Nonsense. I promised I'd take you home." She just nodded passively. Probably still in shock.

Just then a nurse came in, pushing a wheelchair.

"Hi, I'm Anita. I'm going to take you down to Radiology, okay?"

"Can I go too?" piped Jeremiah.

"Sure, honey, but you'll need to wait in the hall, okay?

"I'll walk with you, Jeremiah," I told him, and he looked a little less apprehensive. The five of us made quite a procession going down the hall. Molly was being pushed by Nurse Anita, with me trailing behind. I had Laika at my left side, and Jeremiah was holding my right hand.

I looked down at him, surprised, and feeling... well, I wasn't sure.

The three of us sat and waited while the nurse took Molly into the X-ray room. About fifteen minutes later, they came back out, and Molly gave me a very strange look. I was puzzled, then looked over. I hadn't even noticed. Jeremiah was fast asleep, leaning against my shoulder.

I just picked him up - he weighed hardly anything - and followed them back to Molly's ER bay, to wait for the results of the x-ray and subsequent treatment.

It was then that Joanne showed up. She was the head ER nurse at St. Anne's, and I had bumped into her often enough to become friends.

"Brody," she drawled. "First time I've seen you here when you weren't the patient. Whatcha got there?"

She cocked an eye at Jeremiah, whom I was still carrying, and Molly.

"Thanks for coming by, Joanne. This is Jeremiah," I nodded at the sleeping boy, "and his mother, Molly. She had a little excitement of the domestic kind, and I was fortunate enough to be able to assist. We're just waiting for that arm to be treated, but..."

She knew what I meant. "Ok, go on now, out. You too, Laika." She ruffled my dog's ears. Joanne was one of a very few, very select group of people who were allowed such liberties.

I don't think Molly knew what she was in for. We sat and waited. Almost 30 minutes later, Joanne came back out.

She gave a heavy sigh. "Take the boy back in to her, and then we can talk, okay?"

I did as she asked, and Molly looked... subdued, but also strangely relieved.

I went back out to see Joanne. "Dear God, Brody, that poor girl! I gave her as much of an examination as she'd let me, and I could see extensive evidence of continual abuse. A couple of badly healed ribs, a broken finger, and lots of bruises. I was able to convince her to let me test for STDs, but she refused a pelvic exam. Against my strong recommendation. Maybe after she calms down."

She looked at me. "What are you going to do, Brody? You know what'll happen with the boy..."

I knew what she meant, and nodded. "I don't know, Joanne. I feel responsible somehow. I killed her boyfriend right in front of her, for God's sake. He deserved it, but still. She must hate me!"

She looks at me in surprise. "No... no, I don't think that's true," she looked contemplative.

"Well, I promised to take her home. I'll talk to her and try to figure something out."

"You're a good man, Brody. Please call me if I can help, okay? I mean it."

"Thanks, Joanne, I owe you."

She shook her head, patted me on the arm, and walked out.

Before we checked out, one of the responding officers came in. "Hey, Brody... Ms. Samuelson... just wanted to remind you that I'm going to need a statement. I know you've had a long night, so could you please come down to the station in the next day or two?" He handed me a card.

"Will do. Thanks."

He nodded and left.

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Fortunately, it was a simple, clean break of the ulna. A cast was applied, and Molly was given a prescription for pain killers, which she promptly threw away.

"I don't touch pills. Or powder, or needles," she whispered, when I looked at her. I just nodded.

"Sonny tried to get me hooked on that shit, but I wouldn't do it. He hit me, but I'd rather take a beating than be a junkie."

I didn't know what to say, other than, "I'm sorry."

After she was discharged, we walked right out to my truck. Molly said, "What about the bill, Brody? I can't afford..."

"Don't worry, Molly. Benevolent Policeman's Fund covered it."

She looked at me but didn't argue. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Now, up you go, little man," I hoisted Jeremiah up in back, beside Laika. Then I carefully helped Molly into the front seat. I stood on the running board and reached across her to buckle her seat belt, but tried not to get too close. Personal space was sometimes a big issue in abuse cases, but she didn't seem to be pulling away.

"Sorry Molly, don't mean to be in your space; I just want to make sure you're safe." But she surprised me by merely nodding and thanking me again.

I went around and got in, and started for her apartment.

But when we got there... the place had been ransacked. I knew we hadn't done any damage - the front door was unlocked when I went in, and I had left it open for the police, and they would have closed up when they left, but now... it had been knocked off its hinges and the entire apartment had been tossed.

I told Molly and Jeremiah to stay behind me. "Laika, search," I commanded, and she went in, quiet and head low. I breathed a sigh of relief when she came back a moment later and wasn't signaling anything.

"Good girl," I rubbed her chest.

"Okay, well you clearly can't stay here. Do you have anywhere you can go?"

She just shook her head, tears starting to form.

Thinking for a moment, I made a decision. "Well... let's grab everything you want that has any value to you." I searched around and found a box of garbage bags on the kitchen floor. "Tell you what. You point, and Jeremiah and I will fill up the bags, okay?" I tried to make a game of it for his sake.

Sadly, there wasn't much. One bag for Molly's clothes. Another for Jeremiah's clothes and a few toys. And part of a third for the few children's books, and a very few keepsakes that hadn't been broken.