Where Mercy Is Shown, Mercy Is Given - Duane Dog Chapman [113]
Then, Leland and I put our ears up to the front door to listen. One sneeze or cough was all I needed. But there was nothing. Still, I was convinced someone was home. While being very careful not to be seen, Leland peeked into one of the windows that was wide open with the screen down, so we could take a look inside the house. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling they were there.
Leland was convinced they were listening to us. We were talking out loud, saying what our next move was going to be, so maybe that was the case. It was time to regroup, assess the situation, and make a plan.
We decided to head to a diner on the corner to get some lunch. It’s important to nourish the body when you can when you’re on a hunt, because you never know how long it’ll be before your next meal. We used that time to brainstorm and gather our thoughts on where Max could be hiding. We rehashed everything we’d seen and decided Max was definitely at that house.
When we went back, Leland peered in the same window as before. Only this time he spotted two plates and a pizza box.
I asked Leland if he was positive there wasn’t a box there before.
“I’m not positive, Dad,” he said, going back over it in his mind. “I didn’t do my job right, because I’m not absolutely one hundred percent sure.”
“Close your eyes, son, and visualize what you saw. Think hard. Was there a pizza box there when you looked inside the house the first time?”
“I don’t know!” he snapped. I could tell Leland was getting flustered. The only way we’d be able to know if the pizza was fresh was to touch it. If it was old, it would be cold, but if it was fresh, it would still be hot.
“You’ve got to go in, son,” I told him. “That’s the only way we’ll know for sure.”
“But, Dad, isn’t that breaking and entering?” Leland asked.
“Yes, but it’s a misdemeanor. If you get caught, I’ll bail you out.”
Luckily, Leland was able to slip through the open window. Once he’d climbed into the house, he crouched down on the floor like a soldier and shimmied his way over to the pizza box. He reached his hand up to touch it and then jumped up and through the window in one fluid motion.
“It’s hot, Dad. The pizza is hot,” he said quietly.
“We’re going through the front door, Leland. That’s probable cause and we’re going in right now,” I whispered back.
Boom! We booted the door in. Immediately, a woman came running into the room screaming her head off.
“Help me. Police!” She was yelling into her mobile phone. “They’re here right now. They’re breaking in. Can you hear them?” And then she held the phone up so the police could hear the ruckus.
I began to worry that Leland was right, we shouldn’t have broken in, but then I remembered that in Colorado, you had to have the intent to commit a felony and remain in the house or it is considered a misdemeanor.
Before either of us knew it, there was a cop at the front door. Not just any cop, the same one who had pulled us over earlier in the Radio Shack parking lot. He was soon flanked by two of his deputies. Leland and I were in a tight spot, so I did the only thing that popped into my head in the heat of the moment. I bolted through the house like greased lightning and hit the back door going forty miles an hour. I ripped the screen and took the door right off its hinges.
“Tell the cops I’m on his ass!” I yelled back at Leland.
Leland knew I was lying, but he did it anyway. “My dad saw the guy tear out the back door. He’s chasing Max Valez!” he shouted.
The cops bought into the story hook, line, and sinker. As I was running I could hear dogs barking and see the flashing lights in the distance behind me. The dogs were sniffing, looking for a scent. A moment later, the sheriff yelled out, “You got him, Dog?”
“No, but he’s out here somewhere,” I answered back.
In the meantime, Leland went to work on the woman back at the house. He told her she better tell him where Max was hiding or she was going to jail for harboring a fugitive. Still, she refused to cooperate.
“Let me see