Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Cain followed Kennett through the back door to the service center door and stopped. The place had been ransacked. No. Ransacked wasn’t a strong enough word for what panned out in front of him. “What the hell?”
“Good question.” The patrolman narrowed his focus to a blood-covered crowbar on the concrete floor.
Tires sprawled like obstacles on a football training field, blocking pathways, as Cain made his way further inside the shop.
Wrenches and ratchets and gauges lay in heaps next to overturned tool chests.
Cut air gun hoses dangled like vines in a jungle, their apparatus smashed through windshields of cars pulled inside to be to be ready for early morning service. Even the cars had been ransacked.
This wasn’t a robbery gone bad. Someone had been looking for something. Something they figured was hidden in this building. Not a random act of a quick grab-and-run with enough to trade for a bag on the street either. This was a big money hit.
A gasp caught his attention. Knowing it had to be Betsy coming into the building, he turned to gauge her reaction. He wanted to be sure she understood the danger lurking around this hit. From the look on her face, she understood.
“Don’t touch anything, Betsy,” Cain shouted.
She nodded. “I understand.”
With a look of shell-shock and bewilderment, she made her way through the maze of catastrophe littering the building. She scanned the space from floor to ceiling, side to side, stepping around the police busily tagging and photographing the scene.
At the sight of the bloody crowbar being bagged for evidence, her expression changed. Now she was mad. Mad as hell. That could be dangerous for her. Could be dangerous for him protecting her. Because like it or not, they were going to be a pair until this was solved.
He met her in the middle of the building. “You okay?”
She raised her eyes to his. “Why didn’t they just take what they wanted and leave? Why tear everything apart? The most expensive tool or car on the lot isn’t worth Papa C getting hurt.”
“Anger. Greed.” Cain swallowed the thought of what would have happened if Betsy had been there. “Fear.”
“I don’t understand.”
He steered her behind Deputy Evans as he led the way back outside and headed toward the main building. She wrapped her coat tight against the cold for the half-block walk.
Evans’ steps were firm and all business. “Whoever did this was searching for something.”
“And they’re mad as hell they didn’t find it.” Cain was mad, too.
Kennett followed close behind. “Mad enough to make a point with a man’s life.”
“Or…” Cain’s gut tensed with a warning. “…did Carrington recognize someone in the bunch. I’m not telling you your job, Deputy Evans, but you might want to put a guard outside his hospital door.”
“Agreed.” Evans motioned to Kennett to get that in place. “Check to see when the doctors think we’ll be able to talk to Papa C.”
“Got it.” Kennett stopped as he made phone calls.
“But what could they possibly think I have worth this much destruction?” Betsy asked.
“I’m just speculating here, but last night could have been about a drug deal gone bad.
And if the thugs didn’t get what they wanted, they may think you’ve got the money or goods that were in play with the lookie-loo’s death,” Cain answered.
He ran through the DEA checklist in his mind as they walked across the lot.
He had to make sure he didn’t miss anything. Not being in the Agency or on the police force, he wouldn’t have as much access to evidence, so he needed to stay alert right now.
“I don’t have whatever they want.” She hadn’t missed a beat with her answer. “Besides, why would they think it’s hidden at the dealership?”
“That’s what we’ve got to figure out. And that’s why it’s important that I’m in place at the dealership. Makes it easier to spot someone working on the inside.
Entering the main dealership building, they were met with the same destructive search scene.
Cain and Betsy made their own pathway through the display room as Deputy Evans and Kennett disappeared down the hall leading to her office.
Every vehicle had been vandalized. Seats sliced.
Door panels ripped open. Trunks ravaged.
She shook her head as they kept walking toward the business area.
The two lawmen stood in the center of the hallway.
“We haven’t moved anything in your office yet, so don’t go all the way in,” Kennett cautioned, shooting a quick shake of his head at Cain. “In fact, why don’t you wait out here, ma’am. I’ll catalog and bring you anything you absolutely have to have right now.”
This time there was no smart remark about being called ma’am, Betsy just pushed past the officer. “Don’t be silly. I won’t touch anything. I’d just like to see for myself what the—”
She stumbled backward and spun around, crashing into Cain’s chest. On reflex he folded her against him. Held tighter when she clutched his shirt, then leaned enough to see inside her office.
Every muscle in his body tensed. The bastard had left calling cards of spray paint. First wall—Where’s my money? Second wall—I want my goods! Third wall—Don’t make me ask again!
Guiding her back outside into the cold night air, Cain kept a grip on her, and on his emotions.
He’d seen this over-the-edge anger search plenty of times during his career.
Didn’t have to be the same man to have the same personality.
Evidently, something of value had gone missing.
From Cain’s experience, if the item or items—money, drugs, information, blackmail list, etc.
—didn’t show up soon, then things would only get worse.
“Breathe, Betsy. Just breathe.” Cain rubbed his palm in circles between her shoulder blades. “I’ve got you. No one’s going to hurt you.”
“But…but…” Her jerky little not-gonna-happen sobs tapped against his chest.
He held tighter. “Not now. Not ever, I promise.”
Yeah, she was one tough cookie. But even a strong person had a pressure valve. Last night and now were enough to raise anybody’s emotions to the boiling point. She’d be okay. Give her a little time and she’d be tough as titanium once again.
No one said a word as she calmed down, easing her breathing back to normal. The dealership’s lights deactivated with the first rays of sunrise. Distant bells from All Souls Catholic Church tolled the hour. Another day of chaos loomed on the horizon.
She stepped back from his hold.
Cain felt partly responsible. He should have made her take the time to go to the police station last night to look at photos.
To see if she’d had other not-so-nice visitors at the lot posing as customers.
They should have viewed the security video.
Although, he’d bet money that this guy knew the placement of every camera view of the lot.
Evans cleared his throat. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That whatever drug deal was happening last night, didn’t get finished. And somebody thinks the stash is still here.”
The deputy nodded. “By the way, I’ve already called JB and the sheriff.”
Cain braced his hand against the side of the building. Thinking. Analyzing. Step by step, he worked through the last few hours. What was he missing?
“What time did the first alarm come in?” Evans asked Kennett.
“About—”
Cain snapped his fingers. “That’s it. That’s the missing cog.”
He motioned Betsy to his truck as he took off running for the driver’s side. “Why would the jerk set off all the alarms when he’d just worked for hours ripping everything apart without setting off the system?”
“One reason. He wanted us here!” Kennett shouted as he raced toward his patrol car.
“Right. He made the alarms go off on purpose. I’ll lay you odds we find him at Betsy’s house.” Cain pulled his Glock from the holster and laid it on the console as he jumped into the cab of his truck. In the background, he heard Evans calling for backup.
Betsy jumped in the passenger seat of Cain’s truck and buckled up. Any shock and fear she’d felt five minutes ago had disappeared. In its place was the cold determination of a woman analyzing everything that was happening.
Years back, Cain had worked an undercover job where everyone talked about a man who used alarms to get people where he wanted them to go.
That was his routine. His tag. His MO. If he was still around, he would likely still have the same routine.
And every agent, lawman and private investigator worth their money knew one thing for sure: Routines got people caught.
Follow the routine. Catch the perp.
Only one problem. He’d worked for the same high level “importers” Cain had been sent undercover to infiltrate back then.
At that time, the drug runner had been small potatoes.
Now? By now, he’d have worked his way up the ladder.
Might even be the ace. That meant he’d be more than dangerous. The man had too much to lose to fail.
Cain glanced in Betsy’s direction. “When we get to your house, I want you to stay in the truck. Got it?”
Betsy nodded.
“I’m serious.” Racing across town, he stayed on the bumper of the siren-off, lights-flashing deputy’s car. “I can’t be worried about you when I go inside. Understand?”
“I understand. I’ll stay in the truck, but—”
“No buts.”
Cain considered stopping long enough to drop her beside the road. That might be the only way to keep her out of range of flying bullets. Then again, he couldn’t leave her alone either. She was the target right now.
Betsy sucked in a breath and exhaled long. “He was there.”
“What do you mean? Who? Where?”
“Before you picked me up. While I was waiting on the porch.” Her fingers trembled as she warmed them in front of the heat vent on the dashboard. “I thought I heard footsteps in the snow. By the side of the house.”
Cain clenched his jaw. “Why didn’t you tell me that when you got in the truck?”
“I thought I imagined the sound. Thought I was remembering…” She stared out the side window.
“Remembering what?”
She rotated back to face him. “Nothing. I just thought it was my imagination. Besides, why wouldn’t he have grabbed me while he had the chance?”
Because the jerk liked to play games. Taunt his prey with his power. Play God with their lives.
Cain pulled to a stop in front of her house. “Which end of the house were the sounds?”
She pointed toward the right. “By the big pine tree.”
Grabbing his gun, he jumped from the truck. “Lock the doors and stay in here.”
She nodded.
“And if you need it, there’s a gun hidden in a compartment at the back of the glove box.”
She nodded again. “Don’t worry. I won’t get out.”
Crouching, Deputy Evans, Officer Hastings and Cain started across the front yard as Kennett led other cops in through the back. Likely the thugs had already come and gone. Cain angled toward the pine at the corner of the house and glanced beneath the boughs.
Footprints in the fallen snow. The jerk had scared her. Then let her go. Why?
Because no one knew for sure who he was, what he looked like. At least, not yet. Basically, all the drug runner wanted was his money, his drugs and his hidden identify. That way he could hide in plain view and never be caught. Could be anybody, on any street, in any town.
Cain knew she didn’t have whatever the man was looking for. But the guy wouldn’t give up. The biggest problem was that she didn’t have his money or his goods. In fact, she had nothing to save herself. Cain had nothing to save her either. Nothing except himself and his gun.
What could have possibly made him think leaving the DEA would mean a nice, peaceful life.
He still hadn’t officially resigned, but he had options at least. Good news, he’d bought a swing for the front porch.
Bad news, he just wasn’t built to sit on a porch.
He chambered a bullet as he started into Betsy’s house.
Maybe he should consider this as the first day of his new private security firm. Should be interesting—if he didn’t end up dead.