Ellie's Story by W. Bruce Cameron Page B

was sitting quietly on the steps, huddled back against the railings as if she were cold. But it wasn’t a cold day. The sun was hot on my fur and I was panting.
    I slowed down a little, heading across the grass at a trot. The girl’s sad face brightened a little as she saw me. She sat up and held out her tiny hand.
    The man whirled around, staring at me. My hackles rose when our eyes met, and I felt my lips pulling up to show my teeth. There was something dark inside him, something vicious and wrong. I didn’t like the smell of him at all, and I didn’t like seeing him so near the little girl.
    The man jerked his head up, looking back along the road I’d come from.
    I turned and ran back. “Doggy!” the girl called after me.
    My claws digging into the dirt, I sprinted back to Jakob, who was jogging steadily down the road after me. “You got her,” he said, after one look at my face. “Good girl, Ellie. Show me!”
    He could run nearly as fast as I could. We both tore down the road toward the building. The little girl was still sitting there, looking confused. But the man was nowhere to be seen.
    â€œEight-Kilo-Six, victim is secured and unharmed,” Jakob panted into his walkie-talkie. “Suspect fled on foot.”
    â€œStick with the victim, Eight-Kilo-Six.”
    â€œRoger that.”
    I could hear in the distance the wap-wap-wap of a helicopter blade beating the air and then the sound of footsteps running down the road behind us. Two policemen came around the bend, sweating.
    â€œHow are you, Emily?” one of them said, running up to the girl. He was careful not to touch her, and he knelt down, bringing his face closer to hers. “Are you hurt?”
    â€œNo,” said the little girl. She picked at a flower on her dress.
    â€œIs she all right? Are you okay, little girl?” A third police officer had come running, slower than the other two. He was panting for breath, and he put his hands on his knees. He was larger than the other two, both taller and heavier. I smelled ice cream on his breath.
    â€œHer name is Emily,” the first policeman said.
    Jakob had been standing close to me, watching. The little girl looked up at him, and a shy smile touched her face. “Can I pet the doggy?” she asked.
    I felt Jakob’s relief, the worst of the fear vanishing in the warm sun. That’s how I knew I’d done the Work right, even though it had been strange, trying to Find in the truck. I wagged my tail.
    â€œYes, sure,” Jakob said kindly to Emily. “Then we’ve got to go back to work.”
    My ears perked up at the word “work.” Emily stroked my head and smiled. She wasn’t scared anymore, either. I licked her fingers quickly.
    I could still feel a sternness in Jakob, even while he smiled down at Emily. We weren’t done. Somehow I knew it.
    â€œOkay, I’ll … go with you,” said the big policeman. He was still breathing hard. “John, you guys … remain here with the girl. Watch that he doesn’t circle back around.”
    â€œIf he were close, Ellie would tell us,” Jakob said. I looked up at him. Were we ready? I was ready. Was it time?
    â€œFind!” Jakob said. I leaped ahead into the bushes.
    The brush was thick in spots, the soil underneath sandy and loose. I could track the man easily, though. The trail was fresh. He was headed steadily downhill.
    The smell was sharp and strong in a stand of tall grass. I ran back to Jakob. “Show me!” he said, and followed. I took him to the grass and to the iron rod hidden there, coated with the man’s unpleasant scent.
    Jakob and I had to wait more than a couple of minutes for the other policeman to catch up with us. “I fell … couple times,” he gasped. I could smell his embarrassment and the thick sweat dripping off him.
    â€œEllie says he was carrying this crowbar,” Jakob reported tensely.