Hello, my readers! It's been a while since I last uploaded, but that's because I have been working on this MONSTER of a story arc. My ultimate goal for this fic is for it to reach "novel" status (50k+ words), so I am experimenting with my writing style and trying to make it all longer and more detailed. This is the result.
This chapter is ~3k words, and represents part 1 (of 2, probably) of the "Kayleigh's Case" story arc. Because the whole arc is so long, I decided to split it for ease of reading. I have finals, and the night shift at the barn, this week/next, so uploading might be slow. But after that, SUMMER!
Please enjoy this chapter. I love this fic, and writing + sharing it is really enjoyable for me. Love, ~YeahScience
Dismissed by their Lieutenant, Kitt and Michael were in an unspoken race to the car. Kitt went running towards the Trans Am, but his human went to his comatose squad car instead. The puppy tilted his head and called, "Michael, are we not taking your personal car?" He also noted, with pride, the new emblem on the passenger door: "LAPD K9 UNIT." Complete with paw print.
Michael shouted over his shoulder as he fumbled with the ignition of the patrol vehicle. "Not today, buddy, this is official business. We're gonna take the cop car this time. Hop in," he added, opening the door for the pup. Kitt stared straight ahead and stayed rigidly and professionally still. The engine was a little slow on the uptake: took a couple sparks before the engine turned over. But when it did, it roared like a caged lion.
"Might I suggest you roll down the window?" Kitt murmured. "I might be able to pick up a scent." The cop did as asked. His K9 whipped his head out of the window; this time, there was no amusement in it. Kitt's demeanor had shifted dramatically. He was in full-blown work mode right now. He had been given a case and had every intention of cracking it.
Looking for a missing person is grasping at straws, Knight ruminated. Bitterness crept into his chest, as did doubt. I hope we find her: for her dad's sake, as well as Kitt's. The determination in the little Shepherd's eyes… It would break him if we never found the girl.
"We're going to find her, Michael," the dog barked suddenly. Michael's jaw dropped as he swiveled his head to look at the pup in the passenger seat.
"Wait, can you read minds?"
The dog shook his head. His ears flopped around wildly. "No, I cannot read minds. But I can read facial expressions and human psychology. You are an open book, Michael. Like any average cop, you're worried that we won't find Kayleigh. But, unlike the average cop, you are also worried what that possibility entails for me. This is my first assignment, and you worry that, in the unlikely event of a failure, I will be discouraged from all subsequent cases. Rest assured, this is not true."
"It's not?" Michael balked. His dog's soliloquy was bringing tears to his eyes, for no particular reason. Maybe it was the little guy's insight?
"No," he barked. "We will find her."
The cop let his guard down momentarily. Concern and doubt flooded out. "But how do you know that?"
The dog stuck his muzzle out the window again. "Because I caught her scent."
The tires screamed in protest as the officer yanked the steering wheel as far as the crankshaft would let him. Poor Kitt yelped as he was thrown into the E-brake. His handler offered a short apology as the pair's car rumbled to a stop on the side of the road. Activating his hazards, Knight turned to his canine.
"You said you got her scent?" he asked. Every chamber of his heart fluttered as it inched up his throat.
Kitt furrowed his little doggy eyebrows. "It's faint and contaminated, but I definitely smell it. We should see where it goes."
Michael rolled the car into the nearby parking lot of a bar. Engine off, badge in pocket, gun: loaded, holstered, safety on. Kitt's vest was strapped on snuggly across his deep chest. They were ready for action.
Kitt leaped out of the car and stuck his nose immediately to the ground. As he sniffed around, checking for other possible scent trails, Michael surveyed the scene. This part of the city wasn't too great: there were a lot of bars in the area, which was rather dusty and grimy. The turgid grey clouds cast an unflattering hoary filter over the scene, vaporizing the particles of sweat, alcohol, and dust.
The dog let out a powerful bark to snag his cop's attention. The latter walked over to the former to assess the situation.
"I definitely smell her here," Kitt mumbled with his snout still to the sandy ground. "Lieutenant Miles said Kayleigh was last seen 36 hours ago? This scent is a little fresher than that. She was her maybe 4 hours after she ran away from home."
Michael bit his lip. "That would put her here in the later hours of the night. Not exactly a conducive environment for a teenage girl." His stomach dropped. "Where does the scent go, buddy?"
Kitt gestured with his muzzle. "Into the bar." The dog pelted off, trusting that his cop would follow. He did.
The inside of the bar was just as dusty as the desert outside. Being noon, there were very few customers. Just an older looking man in the corner, nursing a pint. The man behind the bar was stocky, bald, but had a thick brown beard. His apron was covered in stains of various ages and materials. His thick neck turned when the door rang as the police pair walked in.
"Sorry kid, no dogs allowed," the bartender rumbled in a trademark husky voice. In response, Michael held up his badge and waved his hand for Kitt to continue sniffing around the premises.
Immediately the bartender's demeanor changed; he held up both his hands in a submissive gesture and his face flushed even more than it was before. "Look man, I don't want any trouble," he whimpered. "I ain't done nothin' wrong." Michael remained nonverbal and motioned for the flustered man to put his arms down.
"Relax, sir, we know you haven't done anything. I'm here looking for a missing person: K9 picked up her scent here." The cop fumbled around in his pockets and produced the picture of the girl. "Have you seen this girl? Her name is Kayleigh McMannon. She has been reported missing by her father, who last saw her 36 hours ago." The scruffy man took the photograph. He scrutinized it silently for 15 seconds then redirected his attention to the cop.
"Yeah, I seen her. Came in 2 days ago to watch the baseball game. She ordered a lemonade and sat in that booth over there," the man pointed a finger across the bar. Kitt was already sniffing the seat and barked in conformation. He was telling the truth. "But once 9 o'clock rolled around, I had to ask her to leave. You know, can't have underage people in the bar after a certain time. I offered to call her a cab, but she refused. I was kind of worried about her, y'know? What's a 15-something-year-old kid doing out at bars at 9:00? When she left, I kinda watched to see where she went. She walked that way," he pointed.
Michael was taking notes the whole time. "Thank you very much, sir. This is very helpful."
"Hey, anything to help." The bartender paused. "Let me know if y'all find her, yeah?"
A nod. Kitt came trotting up to his partner's side, and they left together.
"Check to see where her scent trail went," the police officer told the puppy. "Make sure the bartender was telling the truth.
Kitt obediently tasted the air and inhaled great puffs of air. "He was telling the truth, Michael," he affirmed. "Her scent goes north: this way."
"Let's head back to the car. We can follow it faster that way. How old is the scent?"
Hopping into the passenger's seat, Kitt sniffed once more out the window. He grimaced. "It's stale, more than a day old. Even with my heightened sense of smell, we'll have to hurry if we want to keep it."
Michael twisted the key in the ignition and his car roared to life. It rumbled out of the parking lot as the cop followed directions from his dog. Apparently, the scent was heading northwest. Knight breathed a sigh of relief; at least that's a friendlier part of town.
The path was winding and involved many side streets. Kayleigh must have been following the sidewalks. Heading towards the downtown area.
His thought process was interrupted by the canine. "Michael?"
The cop turned to the German Shepherd, whose head was cocked in the stereotypical "confused dog" position. "Yeah, buddy?"
"Why would a child run away from their parent? I cannot think of a more illogical action. A human's guardian is the sole producer of food, shelter, support, really anything that humans require to function. I assume that children are aware of this as well. So what directs their thought process when they arrive at the conclusion that the most sound course of action is to leave?"
The air in the car grew very thick and it pulled down the cop's shoulders. "Wow," he muttered. "Well, um, there's not really an answer here, Kitt." Painful memories of adolescent fights with his parents flashed across the cop's eyelids. Days with verbal spars, subsequent nights spent in friends' tree houses, only to be found shivering and escorted home wrapped in a blanket and a parental embrace. Those days were all gone now. Dead. "Humans don't always act based on logic," was all he could say. "They act under the influence of emotion instead. Thinking of the short term and not the long term, you know?"
The dog's collar flashed. "I suppose." The cabin of the car grew silent once again. Palm trees flashed by as the car rolled into downtown LA. Great metal monoliths stretched above them and seemed to be holding up the heavens. The sky itself was equally gray: covered by cloud saturated with warm rain. Various people pattered around on their various tasks. Some were businesswomen, teachers, waiters, others fellow cops… all of them blissfully unaware of the talking dog in the car that just drove by.
"There!" Kitt called out, causing Michael to slam on the brakes and swerve into the parallel parking lane. Several neighboring drivers added their commentary on the matter. Kitt only bared his teeth at the drivers and puffed up his scruff in response. "Kayleigh's scent seems to be going into that building there, the stone one. The Los Angeles Public Library."
The great literary monolith loomed over the pair as they padded up, shielded by its shadow. Intimidation tipped back the super-dog's ears. The closer they went to the entrance, the more the building seemed to be keeling forward towards them. Even the hair on Michael's next stood up.
The outside of the building may have been intimidating, but the inside held treasures untold. Immediately, the smell of paper flooded Kitt's nostrils. He inhaled the scents in great gulps as his eyes surveyed the ornate ceiling, flooded with colors (No, he wasn't color-blind. Dr. Barstow had taken care of that.). On thick rows of shelves, tomes rested equally alongside modern novels and classic literature. Just like the books, an incredibly diverse patronage mingled together. A smile broke out on Kitt's muzzle.
Michael had been calling down to the dog the whole time. At first, the cop was annoyed at his supposedly super partner's inattentiveness. But when he realized that the puppy was experiencing culture for the first time and was totally enamored, he let the dog enjoy the scene in silence.
Gently, the Shepherd turned to his handler. "Michael, I picked up Kayleigh's scent. She was here yesterday night, maybe even later. We should track her position inside the library." The cop only nodded and let the dog do the work.
Kitt was taking them towards the stairs when Michael motioned for him to pause by the reference desk. The woman behind the desk discreetly put down her Dickinson collection and addressed the cop.
"Hello, Officer," she said in a low tone. "Is something wrong? Can I help you?"
He flashed his characteristic charismatic smile. "Hello. I'm Michael Knight. I'm looking for a teen girl who was reported missing a day and a half ago: Kayleigh McMannon." He handed over the photo, which the woman studied. "My K9 here picked up her scent heading into the library. Did you happen to see her yesterday?"
Still looking intently at the photo, the librarian answered. "Yes, I saw her yesterday. She was wearing a sports team sweatshirt, I don't know which team, and jeans. She did have a backpack, too." The librarian squinted to draw from her memory. "She went upstairs to the study room area." Kitt had already inched his way towards the stairs and was wagging his tail. Her face fell. "I'm sorry, that was the last I saw of her. I hope that was enough!"
Michael finished taking his notes. "This is great info, thank you very much." They exchanged nods and Michael walked away.
As he approached Kitt, others were too: a Hispanic woman and her young school-age son.
"Go ahead," the woman whispered to her son. "Ask the policeman."
Staring at his shoes, the kid asked in a sugar-sweet voice, "Mister, can I say hi to your dog?"
"Thank you for asking," Michael responded. "We're on a case right now, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind a little pat."
The kid beamed and dropped down to give the puppy a hearty scratch behind his ear. Kitt's tail wagged so hard it thumped a rhythm on the stone floor.
"What's his name?" the boy asked.
"His name is Kitt!"
"Kitt," the boy whispered to the puppy. The dog yipped and gave the boy a lick on the cheek. He giggled.
The adults watched the two kids play for a good two minutes before the mom spoke up. "Sorry, buddy, but we better get home," she said. The kid groaned, but stood up. "Say goodbye!" Her son waved at Michael and Kitt. "Thank you," his mom mouthed to Michael as they walked away.
Kitt bounded up the stairs so fast that Michael had a hard time keeping up with the pup. Only the human was panting when they arrived at the second floor.
"I smell her," he repeated. "It's strong, she was here, we're gonna find her…"
Until the dog led them to a dark, locked, and empty study room. The poor pup's heart sank to the bottom of his chest and his ears drooped.
"Don't worry, buddy, let me figure this one out," Michael walked away, leaving Kitt scratching and sniffing at the base of the door.
This time, the desked was occupied by an older, bearded gentleman who was busy typing away at the computer.
"Excuse me, sir," Knight began, "But do you happen to know who checked out that study room over there last night?"
The man looked up and down at the cop's uniform and pulled out a great white binder. Inside was a log of all who had come and gone in that room, and judging by the size of the binder, the dates extended well into the 80s.
With a bony finger, the man flipped through the pages until he arrived at yesterday's date.
"Says here that the last patron was a girl named Kayleigh McMannon," he grumbled. "Checked the room out at 9:30 last night, signed out at 11 when we closed. You want the key to have a look around?"
Michael nodded, took the key, and returned to his partner. When they opened the door, they found the room was not so empty: no Kayleigh, but clues nonetheless.
Kitt pounced on the book in the corner of the room. "Look at thith," he mumbled as he picked it up. "Batheball book. Kayleigh loveth batheball." There was a candy wrapper tucked in it as a bookmark. Baby Ruth.
"What's the scent tell you, pal?" Michael busied himself taking pictures of the scene and sending them to Devon.
"It's very strong, not particularly fresh though. I think she may have stayed the night here."
"How is that possible though, Kitt? The guy at the front desk said she turned the key back in at closing."
"The book, Michael. It's got marks on the side, like it was jammed in a door. Kayleigh propped the study room door open with it and hid until the library was closed, then snuck back in and stayed the night here."
The cop was speechless. Kitt took this as a compliment.
Kitt continued. "She stayed until opening, going by the age and strength of the scent. She must've left around 8:00 this morning. We're following her trail, but we're 7 hours behind."
Michael gritted his teeth. "We've got to make up that time before tonight. I don't want her wandering the streets at night again. Kitt, where do you think she went?"
"It's hard to tell," he mumbled. "Her trail winds through the entire library. But I believe she exited the same door she went in through."
With the library filling up, Michael and his dog had a hard time squeezing through crowds of people, most of which wanted to pet Kitt. Unfortunately, none of them were given the chance, as they were now on a strict schedule. We have to find Kayleigh before nightfall. She was lucky to have thought of the library, but odds say she won't come back for a second night. If we don't find her in about 6 hours, she'll be out on the LA streets after nightfall. Which means we have to make up 13 hours of time before then. He shot a glance at Kitt, who did not return it, for he was face-first against the ground. But if anyone can do it, it's him.
But when the pair exited the library, their hearts sank. The sky above them growled, paused, then released a curtain of warm rain. Kitt ran furiously in circles, trying to catch a grip on the trail he had spent all day following with his handler. But it was too late: Kayleigh's scent had been washed into the storm drain. It was gone.
