A search dog’s skills guide deputy Mattie Wray to a familiar victim in “Standing Dead”

This book was a finalist for the 2024 Colorado Book Award for Mystery.

Once Mattie reached the edge of the trees, she slipped on the goggles and made sure she’d adjusted the strap tightly enough for them to stay in place should she need to run or jog. When she looked down at Robo, his black shape and tan markings were clearly delineated. Tufts of grass, rocks, and ruts underfoot were also clearly visible, and here and there she noticed a disturbance in the terrain, a slight flattening of the grass. This would be a good spot to start, a place to see if Robo picked up human scent. 

She removed the short leash from Robo’s collar and tucked it back into place on her belt. She exchanged the shorter leash for a longer one, which she clipped to the ring at the back of his search harness. Then she began the talk they both knew so well, meant to rev up his prey drive enough to sustain him through a long search. 

“Are you ready to work, bud? Do you want to find someone?” She continued the chatter, patting him firmly on his side until he gazed up at her, rising on his hind feet beside her in a pirouette. “Okay, boy. Let’s find someone. Search!” 

Robo had been taught to search for people several different ways. If Mattie had an article of clothing or something bearing the scent of a specific person, she could give him a whiff of it, and he would search for that scent alone. If there was no scent article but she knew where a scent trail started—such as when a person had left a parked car—she could direct his nose to the ground and ask him to pick up the track that way. Or, as in this case, if she was unsure where a track started, she could direct him into an area and he would quarter the ground, sweeping back and forth until he picked up the freshest scent trail of a human that he could find and started following it. 

Robo put his nose to the ground and started sniffing along the edge of the forest where she indicated. He dodged around bushes, giving them a cursory sniff as he went. Mattie stayed close, tethered to her dog by the leash but keeping it loose between the two of them. Brody remained close by, standing still and waiting for Robo to strike out in a definite direction. 

In cases like these, the start of a track was always the unknown factor. Was Robo picking up the scent midway? Was the track coming or going—which way should she encourage him to go? And if he found a human scent track, did it even belong to the human they were looking for? 

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But if there was one thing she’d learned in the last year and a half, it was to stand back and let her dog work. Searching for a human was different from searching for evidence. When searching for an unknown person, it was best to let him sort through the scents on his own and pick up a track if one was available. 

As they reached the north side of the corral closest to the road, Robo paused and worked the ground. He sneezed as he poked his nose into the winter-brown grass but continued to sniff it thoroughly. 

She studied him, looking for signs that he was onto something. His ears pricked and he advanced slowly, lifting one front paw and pausing as he sniffed. She could imagine those millions of scent cells in his nose and mucous membranes charging and firing as he cataloged each layer of scent: the earthy smell of the dirt, the dusty winter vegetation, the trail of rabbits or other wildlife. It was his job to ignore all that and search for human scent alone. 

He lowered his foot to the ground, inching forward a few steps. Finally, he moved westward to the edge of the trees, sweeping his head side to side as he walked, increasing his momentum as he locked onto the track. When he surged forward, Mattie’s adrenaline started to rise. He’d found a scent. 

Mattie could tell that Robo was now certain of the scent he wanted to follow, and she kept up with him so she wouldn’t hold him back. Deputy Brody fell in behind them. 

“Standing Dead”

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They moved into the standing dead trees, and she slipped on her night vision goggles. Everything turned green and ghostly, but she was able to see the forest floor well enough to size up her footing. Deadfall was thick in this area, fallen branches and needles threatening to trip or turn ankles. 

She could also see evidence that someone had been through here: broken twigs, disturbances in the dead pine needles, scuffs where shoes or boots had trod. These signs allayed any doubt that Robo was on a scent track made by humans. Though she hadn’t doubted him at all. She’d learned to trust her partner, and he’d proven himself over and over. 

Confidence in the power of her dog’s nose bubbled over, and she offered him enthusiastic support. “Good job, Robo. Let’s find someone.” 

Brown stuff crackled underfoot in the dead forest, proving her correct in what she’d expected. This footing would telegraph their approach to anyone waiting. She stared at Robo, watching for a change in his body language that might indicate an ambush up ahead. Nothing so far. 

Robo continued to wind through the trees in a generally westward direction for at least ten minutes, keeping his nose to the ground. The scent must be fresh, because he didn’t hesitate as he moved forward along a track that could easily have been traversed by a human. There was no backtracking, no climbing over deadfall, no stopping and searching for missing scent. He continued his confident trek along a trajectory that led in a beeline from the campground corral. 

A breeze quickened from the west, chilling her cheeks below her goggles. Robo’s head popped up, and he sniffed the air moving against his face. At that moment, Mattie recognized he’d switched from tracking the scent pattern on the ground to trailing it through the air. 

Her pulse quickened as the hackles on Robo’s neck rose, making the hair on her own neck prickle. 

She grabbed the handle on his Kevlar vest and murmured, “Robo, wait,” in a voice barely above a whisper. Turning to Brody, she held her finger to her lips and then pointed at Robo’s back. In the goggles’ green glow, she could see Brody nod his understanding. He held his rifle ahead of him at the ready. 

“Search, Robo,” she murmured, and let him lead her slowly forward. Skeleton pine surrounded them as they edged along, one careful step at a time. Mattie flinched as if she sensed a projectile piercing her back, and she immediately put a damper on her imagination. 

She focused on Robo, trying to read him as they crept forward. When he hesitated, she raised her gaze to scan the forest. Trees with bare branches danced in and out of her vision as she swept the area ahead. 

Then she spotted it—something different about one of the trees. She pinned her eyes on the bulky shape while Robo eased forward. The silhouette assumed the form of a human. 

“Person,” Mattie murmured to Brody, pointing at the form. And then to Robo, “Good job, buddy.” 

Her senses as alert as they could possibly be, Mattie followed Robo until he stopped and sat about five feet away from the tree. Though the person had long hair and a bowed head, she could tell he was a man. By this time, she could also make out the rope that tied him into an upright position against the tree.

The man looked as dead as the tree he was bound to—the standing dead. Mattie shivered, and Robo leaned against her leg. She stroked him, telling him what a good boy he was while she scanned the area in a 360-degree circle. Since Robo had not been trained to search for human remains, he must have tracked a live person to this location. Maybe that person was still out here. 

Brody came forward, his head on a swivel as he scanned the forest. He removed his insulated glove, slipped his hand into his pocket, and withdrew a latex glove. 

“Here, let me do that while you keep watch,” Mattie said, taking the glove from him. “Robo, stay.” 

She tugged on the glove and touched the man. He was stiff, and she had a difficult time trying to move his head up so she could check for a pulse on his neck. Nothing. “He’s been dead for several hours, I’d guess.” 

She felt chilled to the core as she extracted a flashlight from her duty belt and raised the goggles to the top of her head. Leaning close to the corpse, she examined his face in the more natural glow of the flashlight’s beam. Long black hair shot with gray, grayish-brown complexion that matched the color of the tree, closed eyes . . . but the prominent cheekbones and the narrow shape of his nose looked oddly familiar. 

Then it hit her. She remembered where she’d seen this man before. In fact, his business card with his photo on it was in her wallet, locked inside the glove compartment of her unit. Despite the chill, she broke into a light sweat as a new wave of adrenaline washed through her. 

She would bet her next paycheck that this standing dead man was her mother’s husband—Juan Martinez. 

Margaret Mizushima writes the award winning and internationally published Timber Creek K-9 Mysteries. She serves as past president of the Rocky Mountain Chapter of Mystery Writers of America and was elected Writer of the Year by Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers. She and her husband recently moved from Colorado, where they raised two daughters and a multitude of animals, to a home in the Pacific Northwest. Find her on Facebook/AuthorMargaretMizushima, X @margmizu, Instagram @margmizu, and her website www.margaretmizushima.com.