If all else fails, take a pointer from your dog. Kick some grass over that shit and move on.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing at a stack of files on Downy’s bed.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and started to strip his boots off his feet. Then he went for the socks, his pants, and his shirt before answering.
“Old police reports about people’s dogs being stolen,” he grunted.
I blinked and walked to the stack.
“How far back do these go?” I asked as I opened the first file.
He sighed and fell stomach first onto the bed, grabbing the bottom file and flipping it open.
“We only pulled the ones in the last six months. That’s about the time when the most dogs started to go missing,” he explained.
I nodded and scanned through the first file. This one was about a Golden Retriever named Mufasa, who’d been stolen out of his owner’s yard while he’d been playing outside.
The next was more of the same. And the next. And the next.
“This is really horrible,” I muttered.
He nodded, looking at a list in the last folder.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“These are the dogs that were stolen from the shelter. Twenty two of them in all,” he replied gruffly.
My stomach hurt, and my head was pounding.
“Is there any doubt about what’s going on?” I asked.
He shook his head, flipping over the next page. “This is a list of dogs that were taken at the dog park. Seven in total.”
Dog after dog, sheet after sheet.
I read over thirty five individual reports, paired with the dogs taken from the dog park, as well as the ones taken from the shelter, it totaled sixty four dogs taken total, in a six month period.
“Holy shit,” I breathed, my eyes not comprehending what I was reading.
He grunted in reply, his eyes scanning one of the reports I’d already looked at.
“Why do you have these?” I asked curiously, turning my head to look at him.
He shrugged. “Nobody else was looking into it. O’Keefe’s been doing what he can, but a dog going missing is a lot lower on the totem pole compared to murders and missing people.”
“Hmmm,” I hummed. “That makes sense.”
I dropped the files to the bed and used the TV remote that was lying on the bed between us to flip through the channels.
Downy started to play with my hair that was falling down my back as he read and I watched old episodes of Cops.
“Do they actually run like that?” I asked, as one particular man bailed out of his car and started running down the street.
The suspect was quick, but the cop was faster, throwing his cruiser in park before he hauled ass after the guy.
The suspect had gotten a good lead on the cop, but the cop ate up the distance as if he’d been in a sprint relay competing for an Olympic medal.
He laughed. “Every fucking day of the week.”
“That’s just sad,” I admitted.
He grunted, going back to his files.
“What about that?” I asked as one of the men threw something out of the car. “What happens when you see them throw something out of the car? Does another cop go and get it?”
“Uh-huh,” he said distractedly. “There’s a button on the camera that lets us mark the spot where the evidence was dropped. We can follow the coordinates to the exact location it was dropped.”
Huh, that was interesting. I’d never heard of that.
“Do y’all wear those personal cameras like they are?” I asked, not bothering to look at him.
It felt too good to have him running his fingers through my hair to move.
If I could purr, I’d be doing it right at that moment.
“No. KPD isn’t able to afford them, although they’ve been mentioned before. With all the attacks on the police officers around the country, it’s better if a police officer were to have viable proof as to what happened. That way they can’t say that the suspect wasn’t doing anything wrong. The body cameras are for our benefit, not the public,” he explained.
“Hmm,” I muttered, thinking about what he’d said.
I’d never thought about it from that point of view before.
Of course I’d worried about my father going out there and getting hurt in the line of duty, but I’d never thought about the law being turned around on him as Downy was explaining.
Which was an eye opener, because I’d thought that I was okay with Downy being a police officer. I guess I’d never really understood the sheer amount of things that a cop had to do to defend himself against people while he was at work.
I closed my eyes in thought, thinking about all the times my father had been threatened.
Had Downy had any of those cases?
“Downy?” I asked.
“Hmm?” He replied.
“Your job scares me,” I admitted.
He tugged on my hair lightly, acknowledging that he’d heard me. “You’ll get used to it.”
“And if I don’t?” I asked with a wee bit of annoyance.
“Then I’ll fuck it out of you,” he growled. “Remind you what you’d be missing if I wasn’t around anymore.”
Sadly, I could do nothing else but agree.
I didn’t really know what kind of future Downy and I had right now, but I couldn’t wait to see where it led.