didn’t.”
“I don’t see what good a dog could do.” Bosworth glanced over at the truck as if reassessing a previous plan that hadn’t considered what a dog’s nose could find.
“I’d still like to have him inspect the truck.”
Bosworth’s hesitation had turned into resistance. “Between the cops searching and me searching, I can tell you that your dog is unlikely to find anything.”
Time to push. “Could you pull the truck outside, please? If I bring my dog in here, the other scents of the building will distract. The cold air will also change his perception. A dog is most useful if ambient smells are similar to where he’s been. Then unusual smells stand out.”
Maybe Bosworth came to understand that my request was reasonable. Or maybe he realized that resisting made him look suspicious. He walked over to a workbench and lifted a key off a hook on the wall above it.
TWELVE
“We have security garage doors,” Randy Bosworth said. He opened a panel on the wall next to the garage door and typed in a code. Then he climbed into the cab and touched the remote on the visor. The garage door went up, letting in a welcoming flood of warm air. Bosworth started the engine, a big diesel that roared in the enclosed space. He backed up slowly, loud warning beeps piercing the air. When the truck was twenty feet outside the building, the garage door went back down. Bosworth shut the engine off and climbed down out of the truck.
“Where’s your dog?” he said. “Let’s see if he’s any good.”
“In my Jeep at the front. C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”
We walked around to the front lot. When we got close, Bosworth stared at the Jeep and said, “Whoa, that boy is...” He stopped walking.
I reached for the rear door.
Bosworth took a step back. “He’s friendly, right?”
“Yeah. Name’s Spot. Give him a pet, and he’ll be your friend forever.” I pulled open the rear door of the Jeep. Spot jumped out, wagging. He took two jogging loops around the parking lot, then ran up toward Bosworth. Normally, I step between Spot and other people he doesn’t know. It reassures people that they’re not about to become doggie lunch. But I decided to let Bosworth grapple with his emotions. Bosworth’s hand went to the butt of his gun as Spot did a quick stop in front of him. Bosworth leaned back and his hands levitated into the air as Spot nosed him all over.
“Spot, meet Randy Bosworth,” I said. Spot lifted his head high and sniffed toward Bosworth’s face, moving slower than normal, probably being cautious about the dangers of the man’s breath. Bosworth backed up.
“Just a single pet will satisfy him,” I said.
Bosworth reached out a tentative hand and gave Spot a pet, his big meaty hand looking small compared to Spot’s head. Spot broke into a pant. “Is he ever... unfriendly?” Bosworth asked. “He could put my head in his mouth.”
“He could, but I don’t think he will,” I said.
“You don’t think? That’s a joke, right? Tell me that’s a joke.”
“It’s a joke. Okay, Spot, you can run.” I gave him a smack on his rear, and he took off across the parking lot.
While Bosworth and I walked back to the truck, Spot cruised past the other parked vehicles, went up and sniffed the front door of the building, charged down the side of the building, and veered off into the vacant lot next door, sniffing out hints of past critter movement through the sagebrush.
“He needs to burn off some energy before he works, huh?” Bosworth said. He looked at Spot, then at the truck.
“Yeah. But mostly I want him to get used to the local smells. When dogs charge around it looks like they’re playing, which they are. But they are also acquiring a kind of olfactory acclimatization.”
“Like making a smell map of the landscape,” Bosworth said, a surprisingly acute observation for someone who still seemed distracted.
“Yeah. That’s a good description for what they
“I don’t see what good a dog could do.” Bosworth glanced over at the truck as if reassessing a previous plan that hadn’t considered what a dog’s nose could find.
“I’d still like to have him inspect the truck.”
Bosworth’s hesitation had turned into resistance. “Between the cops searching and me searching, I can tell you that your dog is unlikely to find anything.”
Time to push. “Could you pull the truck outside, please? If I bring my dog in here, the other scents of the building will distract. The cold air will also change his perception. A dog is most useful if ambient smells are similar to where he’s been. Then unusual smells stand out.”
Maybe Bosworth came to understand that my request was reasonable. Or maybe he realized that resisting made him look suspicious. He walked over to a workbench and lifted a key off a hook on the wall above it.
TWELVE
“We have security garage doors,” Randy Bosworth said. He opened a panel on the wall next to the garage door and typed in a code. Then he climbed into the cab and touched the remote on the visor. The garage door went up, letting in a welcoming flood of warm air. Bosworth started the engine, a big diesel that roared in the enclosed space. He backed up slowly, loud warning beeps piercing the air. When the truck was twenty feet outside the building, the garage door went back down. Bosworth shut the engine off and climbed down out of the truck.
“Where’s your dog?” he said. “Let’s see if he’s any good.”
“In my Jeep at the front. C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”
We walked around to the front lot. When we got close, Bosworth stared at the Jeep and said, “Whoa, that boy is...” He stopped walking.
I reached for the rear door.
Bosworth took a step back. “He’s friendly, right?”
“Yeah. Name’s Spot. Give him a pet, and he’ll be your friend forever.” I pulled open the rear door of the Jeep. Spot jumped out, wagging. He took two jogging loops around the parking lot, then ran up toward Bosworth. Normally, I step between Spot and other people he doesn’t know. It reassures people that they’re not about to become doggie lunch. But I decided to let Bosworth grapple with his emotions. Bosworth’s hand went to the butt of his gun as Spot did a quick stop in front of him. Bosworth leaned back and his hands levitated into the air as Spot nosed him all over.
“Spot, meet Randy Bosworth,” I said. Spot lifted his head high and sniffed toward Bosworth’s face, moving slower than normal, probably being cautious about the dangers of the man’s breath. Bosworth backed up.
“Just a single pet will satisfy him,” I said.
Bosworth reached out a tentative hand and gave Spot a pet, his big meaty hand looking small compared to Spot’s head. Spot broke into a pant. “Is he ever... unfriendly?” Bosworth asked. “He could put my head in his mouth.”
“He could, but I don’t think he will,” I said.
“You don’t think? That’s a joke, right? Tell me that’s a joke.”
“It’s a joke. Okay, Spot, you can run.” I gave him a smack on his rear, and he took off across the parking lot.
While Bosworth and I walked back to the truck, Spot cruised past the other parked vehicles, went up and sniffed the front door of the building, charged down the side of the building, and veered off into the vacant lot next door, sniffing out hints of past critter movement through the sagebrush.
“He needs to burn off some energy before he works, huh?” Bosworth said. He looked at Spot, then at the truck.
“Yeah. But mostly I want him to get used to the local smells. When dogs charge around it looks like they’re playing, which they are. But they are also acquiring a kind of olfactory acclimatization.”
“Like making a smell map of the landscape,” Bosworth said, a surprisingly acute observation for someone who still seemed distracted.
“Yeah. That’s a good description for what they
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