Page 20 of Refuge for Flora

“Better to be pissed off than pissed on, and we were headed straight for being pissed on.”

Kirby sighed. “As usual.”

“If they don’t give us any respect, I don’t feel like I have to give them a bit more than I would anybody else. I didn’t agree to this to be used as somebody’s human shield.”

“Me either.”

The radio squawked to life. “Central dispatch, this is MCSD units fifteen eighty and nine eighty-four. In position. T minus ten minutes. KDFWR units seven twenty-five and four twelve, take your positions.”

“Copy that, MCSD units. KDFWR moving into position. Over.” Barrett glanced at Kirby. “Ready?”

“Yeah. Bring it.”

“Okay. Here we go.” He rolled the few hundred feet to where he’d agreed to park earlier in the week, and the two officers slipped out of the truck and pushed the doors closed just enough to shut off the interior light. Barrett drew his handgun, as did Kirby, and the two men headed to the north side of the property at the base of the hill. “MCSD units, KDFWR units in place.”

“Roger that. T minus two minutes. Over.”

Barrett turned to Kirby again. “Watch your feet. I don’t trust them to have done a thorough sweep.”

“You got that right. They’re depending on us screaming out in pain to work as a distraction. Tonight the deputies are going to have to work for their arrests. I’m not falling on my sword to keep them from getting a hangnail.”

“That makes two of us.” Barrett was about to say something else when the radio bud squawked in his ear.

“KDFWR units, MCSD units approaching point of contact. Deploy. Deploy.”

“Deployment confirmed.” Barrett and Kirby stepped slowly and carefully into the woods behind the property and started their ascent. They walked silently, years of training working with them as they closed in on the property, with only a small penlight to help with their footing. They were almost to the summit when Barrett saw something flash near the ground. He stopped and looked down, then threw up a fist to signal for Kirby to stop.

With the penlight trained downward, he turned to Kirby and, with forefinger and middle finger, pointed to his own eyes and then to the ground. Sure enough, in front of him, almost hidden by leaves, was a silvery strand, probably fishing line. It was most certainly tied to something. Whether it was a weapon, an explosive device, or just a bunch of cans to make noise, he didn’t know, but it was most definitely something. Kirby nodded his acknowledgement, and they carefully stepped over it one at a time until they were clear of it. Barrett listened, but there was no sound yet from the top of the hill, and that meant the deputies hadn’t reached it yet.

Fifteen more steps and they’d be at the top. Ten more. Five. And then all hell broke loose. There was a lot of yelling and screaming, and a couple of shots. Barrett and Kirby bolted up the slope to find a woman standing there, pointing a gun directly at them. Without so much as a blink of an eye, Barrett slapped the handgun away as Kirby tackled her, and while he dealt with the woman, Barrett advanced, weapon aloft. He side-stepped slowly until he came to the dwelling, and he could hear voices still barking orders. Besides the deputies, there were most likely undercover Kentucky State Police officers and maybe even some U.S.Marshals. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care. All he cared about was the ten-year-old boy standing with his back against the rear of the house, his hands up in surrender. By the time Barrett had ascertained that he had no weapon and had taken his hand, Kirby had the woman on her feet and was pushing her toward the house.

Ten minutes later, the suspects were all in custody, and there were indeed fifteen coyotes and twenty dogs in the pens out back. “We don’t have enough crates,” Kirby mumbled.

“Yeah. Quite the operation they’ve got here.” Barrett watched from the corner of his eye as the deputies dealt with the suspects, two men and a woman, along with the woman Kirby had apprehended and the boy Barrett had found. A truck made its way up the slope and a man got out. Barrett could hear him identify himself as the veterinarian from the college, so he went to meet the doctor.

“How are we going to handle this?” the vet, whose name was Riggins, asked.

“We’ve got catch poles. I suppose if you euthanize some of them, we can reuse the crates as we go.”

Dr.Riggins glanced around. “Where’s animal control?”

“I have no idea. They were supposed to be here.” Both men stood there and watched as the feral dogs snarled and growled from the opposite side of their pen. “Well, this is a royal mess.”

“I’ll say,” Dr.Riggins agreed as they stood there, listening to the commotion in front of the house.

The two male suspects were sitting in the back of the deputy’s car, talking quietly, so Barrett decided it was a good time to pull his truck up and get the crates and catch poles. He was walking by the deputy’s cruiser when he heard one of the men say, “… be glad they weren’t alligators.”

Barrett spun and stared at the man. “What did you just say?”

“Nothin’. I ain’t said nothin’.”

“You said something about alligators. What was it?”

The man looked genuinely terrified. “I didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout no alligators.”

“Yes, you did. I heard you. What did you say?”

“Man, I tole you, I ain’t said nothin’ ‘bout no alligators!” the man shrieked.

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