The brass scraped against the floor, coming to a rest against the toe of Arthur’s shoe.
Chief Vance took another step forward. His polished oxfords squeaked on the linoleum. “I said, give me that, Arthur. That’s department property. You shouldn’t even have it.”
Arthur didn’t reach for the badge. He just looked down at Koda. The German Shepherd was sitting perfectly still, his dark eyes locked on the old man. The dog let out a soft, low whine. A thin scar ran across his left ear, a souvenir from a raid in 2018.
My heart hammered against my ribs. The air in the shelter felt suddenly thin. In the back kennels, the other dogs started to bark, sensing the tension. I looked at Vance. His hand was resting on his duty belt, his knuckles white.
“Maya,” Vance barked, not taking his eyes off Arthur. “Take the dog to the holding kennel. Now. Before I have you cited for obstruction.”
I didn’t move. I crossed my arms over my gray polo shirt. “The dog isn’t going to the kennel, Chief. And Arthur isn’t giving you the badge. Not until you explain why a ‘lost’ piece of property was hidden under the bench in your own precinct’s transfer room.”
The room went dead silent. The hum of the refrigeration unit in the back seemed to roar in my ears.
Vance’s jaw tightened. The arrogant, bored smirk he’d worn since he walked in vanished. “You’re out of your depth, Lin. That badge was lost during the evidence locker reorganization. Arthur is a senile old man who stole it.”
“I didn’t steal it,” Arthur said. His voice was raspy, unused, but sharp as broken glass. He finally looked up at Vance. His hands were trembling, but his eyes were clear. “You took it. When you forced me to sign the retirement papers. You put it in your pocket so I couldn’t use it to access the K9 unit’s secure files.”
“Lies,” Vance snapped. He lunged forward, reaching for the badge on the floor.
Koda moved.
It wasn’t an attack. It was a block. The massive dog shifted his weight, placing his broad chest directly between Vance’s hand and the brass badge. Koda didn’t growl. He didn’t bare his teeth. He just sat there, an immovable wall of muscle and loyalty.
Vance stumbled back, his face flushing a deep, blotchy red. “Get that animal out of my way! He’s aggressive! This is exactly why he failed the test!”
“He didn’t fail the test, Richard,” Arthur said softly. He reached out, his weathered hand resting on Koda’s head. The dog leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. “He refused to attack me during the simulation. Because he knew I wasn’t the threat. You rigged the scenario. You paid the agitator to wear my jacket.”
Vance froze. The color drained completely from his face. He looked at the dog, then at Arthur, then at me.
“That’s impossible,” Vance whispered. “The agitator was anonymous.”
“I have the bank records,” I said. I pulled my phone from my pocket. I didn’t dial 911. I dialed the Internal Affairs commander. “I’ve been auditing the K9 budget for three months. The payment to the agitator came from your personal LLC. The one you registered under your wife’s maiden name.”
Vance’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He looked at the glass doors, calculating the distance.
“Don’t bother,” I said. “The Commissioner is already in the parking lot.”
The front glass doors swung open. Two Internal Affairs investigators walked in, flanked by the Police Commissioner. They didn’t look at the dog. They looked straight at Vance.
“Chief Vance,” the lead investigator said, his voice flat and cold. “You’re under arrest for falsifying K9 certification records, elder abuse, and misappropriation of department funds.”
The investigators moved in fast. They pulled Vance’s arms behind his back. The metallic click of the handcuffs was sharp and final. They marched him out of the shelter, past the staring volunteers, and into the waiting cruiser. He didn’t look back. He just stared at the floor, his shoulders slumped, entirely defeated.
I walked over to Arthur. I knelt down and picked up the heavy brass badge. I placed it in his palm. His fingers closed around it, his thumb tracing the engraved crest.
Koda rested his heavy chin on Arthur’s knee.
The heavy glass doors clicked shut behind the investigators, leaving only the sound of the dog’s steady breathing.