Lenora Worth - Deep Undercover

As if she’d heard them talking about her, Stella stopped and lifted her nose into the air, a soft growl emitting from her throat.

Brianne held tight to the leash. “Steady, girl. You’ll need to contain that when the fireworks start.”

But Stella didn’t quit. The big dog tugged forward, her nose sniffing both air and ground.

Gavin watched the Labrador, wondering what kind of scent she’d picked up. Then Tommy alerted, going still except for his wagging tail that acted like a warning flag, his body trembling in place, his nose in the air. A whiff he recognized had hit his odor receptors and sent an alert to his somatosensory cortex so he could process the smell. And it had to be a familiar smell.

“Something’s up,” Gavin whispered to Brianne. “He’s picked up a signature somewhere.”

Brianne whispered low. “As in a bomb scent?”

“That’s his specialty.”

Gavin checked her to make sure she wouldn’t panic. Instead of panic, he saw something else in her eyes. Apprehension and anticipation. Brianne’s adrenaline faintly shouted at him.

Stella’s, too. The rookie knew enough training to expect a reward soon.

“This can’t be good,” Gavin whispered, watching the crowd. A mass of people side by side. With a bomb nearby, full-out chaos would hit. They’d have to work quietly and quickly to get this situation under control. “We need to verify and contain.” He did a sweep of the area. “If we find something, we need to call for backup immediately, okay?”

She nodded and did her own scan of the area.

“We’d better get to work,” she said as they both let their partners take the lead, guiding them in a rush through the crowd. “We might not have much time.”

It didn’t take long to find what the dogs had alerted on. The man Gavin had spotted earlier wearing the plaid cap and carrying a black backpack.

He wasn’t carrying the backpack now.

Gavin leaned toward Brianne. “We need to keep an eye on that man up ahead. Don’t let him get lost in the crowd. You follow him, and Tommy and I can search for the backpack.” Hurrying ahead, he reached for his radio to alert the other NYPD officers in the area.

Brianne nodded, her gaze zooming in on the man pushing through toward the south. “Think he’s the one?”

Gavin didn’t take his eyes off the man. “Yeah, I do.”

The woman he’d noticed earlier sat with her baby girl on a crowded bench, her child in her arms. The kid with the soccer ball kicked it into the air. The ball got lost in the fray, but someone caught it and sent it back to the kid.

“We need to stay calm and see what he does next,” he said to Brianne. “See where he goes. The dogs could be wrong, but I doubt that. Stay on the radio.”

Tommy alerted again, his eyes on the man ahead but then the dog lifted his nose in the air and changed courses. Gavin pushed his way through shoulder-to-shoulder people, some laughing and ignoring him, some glaring at him full-force. He’d only made it a few feet. Not good.

Gavin stayed focused, trying to keep his eyes on the man who seemed oblivious to all the people shoving at him or to Brianne following him. They got caught up in a large group of teenagers pushing forward around a big oak tree.

Tommy ignored the girls and kept tugging toward the tree. Gavin spotted the backpack, zipped up and sitting on a beach towel by the tree. Tommy headed to it, dug his paws in and lifted his eyes back to Gavin. He didn’t need to inspect the bag. If Tommy detected a bomb, Gavin believed him.

“Good work, Tommy.”

Gavin called Tommy back away from the area and took in the scene. People all around. He started pushing, trying to guide them away. “Excuse me, folks. Need to clear the area, please.”

But he didn’t have to say a word. People in New York knew this drill only too well. A man pointed and shouted after he saw Tommy and Gavin—and the backpack. “Suspicious package.”

Then someone else started shoving and running away. “Bomb!”

“Go,” Gavin called, waving his arms. “Leave the area.” Then he stood and spotted Brianne up ahead. She’d already lifted her phone off her waist clip, her eyes meeting his.

“Get back,” Gavin shouted, since people were beginning to whisper and stare. “Clear the area,” he ordered, lifting his arms to wave to the people near the bench while he and Tommy kept a safe distance away. “Clear the area. Move away from the riverfront.”

Brianne and Stella whizzed back toward him. He heard her radio it in through her mic. “10-33 in progress. East River Park. Intersection of East Houston and FDR.”

“Stay back, Bree,” he called. “Keep searching for the suspect.”

She nodded and, giving Gavin one last glance, turned back to her search.

Gavin kept his hand up to keep anyone from approaching too close and he made sure he and Tommy were a safe distance away. The crowd parted and scattered, parents screaming, searching for children, the group of teenaged girls taking off like a pack to get out of the way, families grabbing each other and pushing through the masses.

In the meantime, he radioed for patrol officers to keep the crowd back and listened in on further instructions until the bomb squad arrived. He could expect to see a whole slew of law enforcement agencies arrive soon, including the FBI, ATF and the New York City Fire Department, just in case. Dispatch had already alerted officers up and down the riverfront on both sides of the firework barges. Unless they found more suspicious packages, the show would go on. But it might be delayed if this turned out to be more than a lone, random act.

Gavin prayed that wouldn’t be the case.

* * *

People were running, screaming, shoving. The little boy with the soccer ball fell and cried out in pain. Someone helped him up while his ball went flying and dropped into the frightened crowd. The woman with the baby abandoned her stroller and took off running, holding her wailing child close to her shoulder. Her husband called after her and caught up to hold his family tight.

People shuffled to get away, some tripping and getting up while others stopped to help. An elderly man pushed a woman in a wheelchair. Too close.

Gavin hurried with Tommy toward the couple, hoping to get them away from the backpack, his heart pumping.

But before he could get to them, a boom and flash, smoke all around, people screaming and shouting, calling out to their loved ones. Gavin felt the blowback hit him in the gut, knocking him down. He stumbled while Tommy leaped into the air and fell over Gavin.

His ears ringing, Gavin sat up and rubbed Tommy’s fur. “Thank you, boy. Good boy.” His partner appeared intact and ready to get back on the job.

Gavin moved toward the smoke, searching for the old man who’d been pushing the woman in the wheelchair. Had they managed to get out of the way?

Tommy sniffed as they neared the area, the acrid smell from the explosion causing people to cough. The backpack had been incinerated. Gone. A black hole covered the spot where the blanket still burned. Searching for the wheelchair, Gavin also looked for Brianne and Stella. The last time he’d seen them they were coming back toward the tree.

The smoke settled enough that he saw the old man sitting on the ground by the wheelchair, his forehead bleeding. He and the woman held hands. Both safe and sound and looking at each other.

Gavin headed toward them to make sure they were okay. “You folks all right?”

The man nodded, still holding his wife’s hand. “Forty-eight years together. We’re tougher than we look, son.”

Gavin talked to them in a calm voice, making sure they were both okay and telling them help was on the way. Their love for each other was evident—like a punch to the gut but in a good way.