Chapter 6
A peek out my bedroom window early the next morning reveals the universal clear blue Colorado skies, and the dogs and I enjoy a long jog up the Doudy Draw trail. Ripley and Leda show Dash the best spots to sniff and he does well on his retractable line. His copper-colored coat and the white swath of fur running down his neck and across his chest gleam brightly in the morning sunshine. I keep my promise to myself from the day before and add bonus inclines to my run. Leda’s abilities require her handler to stay in tip-top shape in preparation for arduous backcountry rescues.
The dogs and I return to the dog training facility, and I usher Dash back into his kennel run. My invaluable assistant, Michael Fletcher, a tall, muscular nineteen-year-old Black teenager, exits his attached apartment and comes over to greet me with his usual cheerful expression. I crane my neck to smile up into his affable brown eyes, since he towers over me by at least eight inches. He is wearing his favorite black Keds, blue jeans, and a black-and-white T-shirt we found at a flea market pronouncing “I Confess. I Let the Dogs Out.” Makes me laugh whenever he wears it.
Michael joined our crew last year after helping me out of a tight spot down in Denver, and frankly, he has been a godsend. Michael shows an innate talent for dog training and absorbs the new things I teach him at lightning pace. On top of that, he has true empathy for both animals and humans. His liver-and-white-spotted Llewellin Setter, Cocoa, sticks right behind him. She likes to keep a close eye on her partner.
“Good morning. How did the search go in Cavan County? Bob told me you found the guy.”
“Hello, Michael, and Cocoa. I see you, silly.” I baby talk to Cocoa as she throws herself down for a tummy rub. “Leda found him partway down a shaft in an old silver mine. It was a rugged and remote location for a lone miner or partners to create such a deep mine shaft over a century ago in pursuit of a vein of high-grade silver ore. But that county is renowned for possessing scattered large ore deposits. Tim and I pulled him up, and we got out before the fire could move in. I even survived the chopper rides, so it was all positive. What do you have planned for today?”
“Great job,” Michael enthuses. “I’m going to keep working with Ferro on his drug searches. Sgt. Tim said I could use the empty rooms at the sheriff’s office building to hide the sample drug packets today. I guess there is a tower of extra office furniture where I can stash the drugs and challenge him thoroughly. He’s doing awesome. Another month and I think he will be ready to join Leda on our drug detection team.”
Ferro is a black-and-tan German Shepherd with light brown eyebrows, making him look perpetually quizzical. Michael pulled him from a shelter in neighboring Denver County when we were looking for another dog to help Leda cover our plentiful school and corporate clients wanting regular drug searches performed on their properties. He has that typical German Shepherd drive and has blossomed during the learning process. Fortunately, he and Cocoa adore each other, so Michael is often to be found with two dogs at his heels—one large and black, the other medium and white. Ferro has a fabulous nose and he is now reliably able to distinguish the scents of methamphetamine, cocaine, heroin, and fentanyl.
Fentanyl is a synthetic opioid, and the new drug of choice in many states. Unfortunately, just two milligrams can kill a person and it is thirty to fifty times more potent than heroin. In other words, it is desperately lethal. The training aids for fentanyl vary slightly from the other drugs, as we use safer training aids to imprint the odor on the dogs. Co
