Sisko the Half-Eaten Sandwich
A loud thump resonated against the side of the unmarked police cruiser. Kyson Hunter, a thin, fit officer with short dark hair, immediately braked. His K-9 partner, Sisko, a lean, muscular black Lab/Shepherd, whined softly, her head cocked. The impact had been significant enough to dent the vehicle’s door. Kyson opened the door, his hand resting on his sidearm. Sisko was already sniffing the ground, her black fur gleaming under the streetlight. She circled the vehicle, her keen nose working. Then, she trotted towards a nearby alleyway, a low growl rumbling in her chest.
“Find anything, girl?” Kyson murmured, following her.
The alley was dimly lit
The alley was dimly lit, cluttered with overflowing dumpsters. Sisko stopped abruptly, her attention fixed on a small, overturned crate. Inside, nestled amongst discarded fast-food containers, was a partially-eaten sandwich. Kyson approached cautiously, using his flashlight to illuminate the scene. He noticed a faint, almost imperceptible trail of muddy footprints leading away from the crate into the alley’s darkness.
“Looks like our perp was in a hurry,” Kyson observed, snapping a photograph of the footprint.
He then turned back to Sisko, who was now focusing on a smear of something dark on the crate’s side. She nudged it with her nose.
“Think you can tell us what that is, Sisko?” Kyson asked, producing a small vial and some cotton swabs. He carefully collected a sample.
“Looks like we’ll need to run this through the lab,” he muttered to himself as he bagged the evidence.
“Hey, Officer Hunter!” a voice called out.
A man emerged from a nearby doorway, clutching a half-eaten sandwich. He appeared flustered, his clothes rumpled.
“I, uh, I think that might be my sandwich.” He gestured towards the crate. His eyes darted nervously around.
“Is it, now?” Kyson asked, his gaze sharp.
“And were you perhaps… responsible for the significant dent in my patrol car?”
“Dent? What dent? I…I don’t know anything about a dent,” the man stammered, his eyes widening. He attempted a nervous laugh.
Sisko, meanwhile, continued to inspect the man, her gaze unwavering. She let out a low growl, her attention fixed entirely on him.
Disagree with the assessment
“Sir, I believe my K-9 partner here disagrees with your assessment,” Kyson stated, a hint of amusement in his tone. He motioned toward the mud tracked from the alley to the street, and the sample collected.
“We found evidence suggesting otherwise. Care to reconsider your statement?”
The man shifted uncomfortably, his denials becoming increasingly unconvincing. His gaze drifted to the police car, then back to Sisko, before finally slumping his shoulders. A sigh escaped him.
“Alright, alright, it was me. I tripped. I was trying to get away…I didn’t mean to hit your car.”
Kyson simply nodded, already reaching for his radio to dispatch a unit for the arrest. Sisko, her work done, nudged Kyson’s hand with her nose, a satisfied look in her eyes. Thanks to a very perceptive canine officer, the case was now neatly tied up.
Read another story, check out? Sisko Scent of the Carved Wooden Box
