Courage Under Fire. Sharon Dunn
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“Good, you made it out there in record time.”
As she hurried steadily toward the tall brush, Lani had an extra bounce in her step. Since her training as a K-9 officer had begun, that was the first compliment Noah had given her. Noah had been appointed the interim chief of the NYC K-9 Command Unit after the untimely death of his brother Jordan—the former chief. A permanent replacement was yet to be named.
Noah’s voice floated over the radio. “Remember, move like a five-year-old would.”
“Ten-four.” In fact, Noah always seemed to be quite tight-lipped whenever she was around. He had a great deal on his mind. Jordan had been murdered months ago and the investigation had stalled. All the same, Noah seemed to be extra quiet around her. She took his silence to be disapproval. Maybe like some of the other officers, he didn’t think she was up to the job.
Lani was a natural athlete with a background as a self-defense instructor and a dancer. She’d graduated from the academy with flying colors and she had an older brother, Reed, who was also with the unit. It was her former profession as an actress that probably made them wonder if she would make the cut. All officers earned a nickname sooner or later. Hers was less than flattering. They called her Cover Girl. Never mind that she’d never worked as a model. She was stuck with the name...for now. Lani gritted her teeth. The rest of the team just didn’t know what she was made of.
She entered a grove of trees. The dry autumn leaves crackled as the breeze rushed over them. It could be up to an hour before the dogs found her. The refuge was thousands of acres. The places a child could get lost were infinite. She passed a wooden box on a stake. A barn owl peeked out of the round hole in the box. Jamaica Bay was home to hundreds of species of birds. This time of year, the raptors showed up.
Lani was New York City born and bred. One of her favorite memories was of her grandfather taking her to see the eagles.
Knowing that a child would not move in a logical way, she headed back toward the shore and ran along the beach for a while before zigzagging back into the brush. Her heart pounded in her chest. Though she still had her radio, her instructions were not to communicate with the rest of the team.
Up ahead she spotted an object shining in the setting sun. She jogged toward it. A bicycle, not hers, was propped against a tree.
A knot of tension formed at the back of her neck as she turned a half circle, taking in the area around her. It was possible someone had left the bike behind. Vagrants could have wandered into the area.
She studied the bike a little closer. State-of-the-art and in good condition. Not the kind of bike someone just dumped.
Still puzzled by her find, Lani hurried deeper into the trees and then sat down on the ground. A five-year-old would stop and rest, she reasoned, maybe even fall asleep. She stared at the sky.
The noisy chatter of the gulls and other birds feeding hummed in the background. Wind rustled the leaves, some of them already golden and red, others still green, creating a sort of song.
She listened, thinking she might hear the baying of the dogs as they picked up her scent and tracked her. No. It was too soon for that. Though it would have been a welcome sound.
A branch cracked. Her breath caught in her throat. To the best of her knowledge, there were no large animals on the refuge, only squirrels, rodents and raccoons. Fear caused her heartbeat to drum in her ears. She touched the radio on her shoulder.
More noise landed on her ears. Whatever was in the thick brush that surrounded her was on the move.
She took her hand off the radio, shaking her head. It would not go over big for her to push the panic button over some nocturnal creature looking for its dinner.
Lani rose to her feet and headed toward the tall grass where she would lie down as though she’d fallen asleep. The dogs and their handlers needed to read the signs she left behind. Her feet pounded the hard-packed ground as she turned back to the shore. The cacophony of the birds feeding by the water’s edge grew louder.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught movement, a bright color. Human? The rest of the team couldn’t have found her that fast.
“NYPD.” She hadn’t worn her gun for this exercise. Her eyes scanned all around her, searching for movement and color. “You need to show yourself.”
Seconds ticked by. Her heart pounded.
Someone else was out here.
Again, it was possible that a junkie or vagrant had found a way to avoid detection and was making the refuge his or her home.
The birds quieted as the sun slipped lower in the sky. All she heard was the sound of her own heartbeat. Her hand moved to the radio. She needed to at least inform Noah that someone else was lurking in the bushes. She clicked the radio on and turned her head to speak into it.
A hand slapped hers and yanked the radio off her shoulder. Automatically, she reacted with an elbow punch to her assailant’s stomach.
Her attacker groaned in pain but did not relent in his attack. He restrained her by locking her neck in the crook of his elbow while he pulled her arm behind her and pushed it up at a painful angle with his other hand.
The fear that invaded every cell of her body was overridden by her years of training in self-defense. She kicked him hard in the shin. His grip didn’t loosen at all. The man was strong and had a high tolerance for pain.
He held on tight, dragging her toward the tall grass and the water. Her arm burned from pain as he bent it behind her back and pushed it upward.
She planted her feet.
Her resistance seemed to fuel his anger. He squeezed her neck tighter.
She struggled for air. She kicked him several times even as dots formed in her field of vision. He jerked back and up with his crooked arm. She landed one more intense blow to his leg.
His grip loosened enough for her to twist free. She ran only a few steps before he grabbed her shirt and dragged her back toward him. She spun around landing a chop to his neck designed to cause pain by pinching nerves. The move disabled her attacker long enough for her to get a head start.
The ground was softer this close to the shore. The water of the bay shimmered in her peripheral vision as she sprinted. She needed to get back up to the trail to find her bike before he could grab her again.
The landscape darkened and shadows covered the trees and bushes as the last light of the sun faded. His footsteps pounded behind her. She willed herself to go faster. Air filled her lungs and her breathing intensified. She veered off, hoping to head back up toward the trail and her bike.
She attacker remained close at her heels. Just as she arrived at her bike, he grabbed her. She whirled around, getting in several solid blows. He grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around.
The attacker wrapped his arms around her, coming at her from behind. He seemed to want to restrain her rather than fight back. His arms suctioned around her like an anaconda. His mouth was very close to her ear.
“There now,” he said.
His warm breath and sickly sweet words sent a new wave of fear through her. When she tried to twist free, he tightened his grip on her waist.
Then she heard a most welcome sound, the dogs baying and barking. Still some distance away but clearly headed toward her.
The man let go of her and stepped back. He wore a hat and she could not see his face in the dim light. Clearly frightened by the approaching dogs, he turned to go. She wasn’t about to let him get away. She leaped through the air, seeking to knock him to the ground. The attacker did not fall, which left her hanging on to his back.
“NYPD,” she shouted.
He shook her off, ran a few paces and then bent over.
She caught up with him. He swung around. In the darkness, she had not seen him pick up the rock he now had in his hand. It hit the side of her head. Her knees buckled.