Chapter 3
“Like I was telling the other deputy,” Cody said, “I let these guys in. I thought they were legit. Then everything went to shit. Pardon my French.”
"Tell me about the call to the HVAC company," I said.
Cody shrugged. "I dialed the number that Charles told me to call. I told them we were having an emergency. They said they'd send people out right away. I guess we're on some kind of high-priority list.”
"What's the number you called?"
"I don't know. The number that's on the Post-it.”
"Are you sure you spoke to someone at the HVAC company?” I asked, growing skeptical.
Frazzled and frustrated, Cody said, "At this point, I don't know who I talked to. They sounded official. You think someone could have intercepted the call? That's the only thing that makes sense.”
"It’s possible,” I said. "Have you shared any information about the facility with anyone?"
Cody shook his head. "I told my girlfriend I'm working here. I tell people if they need safe-deposit boxes to come here. But no, I don't discuss any of the security protocols with anybody, if that's what you're getting at.”
"Do you have a criminal record?”
Cody gave me a flat look. "Do you think I'd have this job if I did?”
I stared at him a long moment with suspicious eyes.
"I don't know why you guys are all up my ass about this. I didn't rob the place. I didn't help anybody rob the place. I like my job. I don't want to lose it. I don't even know what's in these vaults and boxes. Obviously something valuable, or people wouldn't pay this kind of money to lock them up.”
"What about James?"
"What about him?"
"Was he in any trouble? Any gambling debts? Any drug use?"
Cody’s brow wrinkled, dismissing the notion. "No. That guy is so straightlaced. I don't think he even drinks. He takes this shit seriously. You’d think we were guarding Fort Knox." Cody frowned, and he hung his head. "He was a good guy. I think he wanted to be a cop.”
“How are your computer skills?” I asked.
Cody shrugged. “I can type pretty good, I guess. I can use email, surf the web, waste time on social media. I even bought some crypto. But that’s about the extent of it.
” Then he added, “Sometimes there’s not a lot to do around here.
We can go for long stretches without seeing a customer.
I’ll just sit behind the desk and read a book on my phone or doom scroll on the socials.
” He frowned. “That stuff will rot your brain.”
“Are you always working during the day?”
“I like regular hours. I’m 10 AM to 6:00 PM.
That’s normal business hours. The night shift comes on from 6 PM to 2:00 AM.
Then there’s the graveyard shift that takes 2 to 10:00 AM.
I start getting depressed if I work graveyard too much.
I need the sunlight. When I work graveyard, all I do is sleep all day.
That doesn’t go over well with my girlfriend either. ”
“What’s her name?”
“Roxanne.”
“I’ll need contact information for her,” I said.
Cody’s brow wrinkled. “Why do you need to talk to her?“
I shrugged. “Just routine.”
“Doesn’t sound routine,” he said with narrow eyes. “I’m telling you. I didn’t have anything to do with this.”
“Then you’ll have no problem with us asking around and doing our due diligence.“
Cody frowned and glared at me.
I handed him a card.
After a moment’s hesitation, he texted me Roxanne’s number.
I asked him to describe the assailants, and he did. He gave me the same description as Charles had. I told him we might have more questions.
The forensic team dusted for prints, but they weren’t going to find any that belonged to the perps. Not if they wore gloves, as Charles had said.
I moved behind the desk and took a photograph of the Post-it note with all the emergency numbers on it. Then I dialed the HVAC company.
The number just rang and rang and rang.
It went to voicemail, but there was no outgoing message. "This is Deputy Wild with the Coconut County Sheriff's Department. Please call me back at your earliest convenience."
I left my number, then asked Charles for the name of the company.
He told me.
"Whose handwriting is this?" I asked, pointing to the Post-it note.
"That's mine, I believe." He reached for it, but I stopped him.
"I'm going to collect this as evidence."
I pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves, grabbed the Post-it note, and held it for him to look at.
He surveyed the note. "It looks like my handwriting. I remember writing that out. But I can't be sure. It does look a little different, to be honest. But I wrote that 2 years ago. Maybe I was in a hurry.”
I gave it to one of the forensic guys and asked them to see if they could pull prints from it.
"What are you thinking?" Sheriff Daniels muttered to me.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and searched for the number to the HVAC company, then showed it to the sheriff.
He frowned.