by L. T. Ryan
Marcus didn’t miss the urgency in her voice. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Just wondering.”
He put his hands on his hips. “If you need me to hack into something for you, I will. But you can’t keep me in the dark. That would be dangerous to both of us.”
Mandy sighed. He had a point. “Laura Lynn is sick. Like, really sick. She was throwing up blood yesterday.”
Marcus paled. His arms dropped to his side. “Really? Is she gonna be okay?”
“Don’t know,” she said. “Something weird is going on. Her dad seemed more concerned about no one finding out she was sick than doing something about it. The sheriff called an ambulance for her, and I guess her mom let them in. I wanted to check up on her. See if there’s anything in her charts or something.” Mandy wasn’t one hundred percent sure how it all worked, but if she could get into the system, she’d figure it out. “I want to make sure she’s okay. I think my dad is keeping something from me.”
Marcus sat down at his desk and pulled his laptop out from under a stack of books. He opened it and looked over his shoulder. She turned around so he could put in his password, and only turned back when he told her it was okay. He typed in an address at the top of the screen, but his finger hovered over the enter key before he pressed it down.
“Is this why you wanted to hang out with me today?” He looked up at her. “Just to check on Laura Lynn?”
Mandy hesitated. She thought he’d respect her honesty but lying would be the easier route. She went for a blend of both. “Yes and no. I’m worried about Laura Lynn, and I knew you could probably help me. But I wanted to hang out. You’re weird, but in a cool way.”
Marcus pondered that for a moment, then shrugged a shoulder and turned back to his computer. “Works for me.”
Marcus’ fingers were a blur of motion over the keyboard. They moved so fast, Mandy couldn’t keep up. Before she knew it, they were staring at an administrator’s login screen. With the click of a button, Marcus could look up any patient and see their personal information.
“Whoa.” It wasn’t lost on Mandy how illegal this was. “How did you do that so fast?”
“It’s not like it is in the movies. That was my first lesson.” He laughed, then pushed the glasses up on his face. “The most important part is hiding your location. In this case, I made my computer look like it was at Dr. Sing’s house.”
“Is that the login you’re using?”
“Yep. She’s a friend of my mom’s. She keeps a sticky note of her password on her desk in her home office. I saw it when we were invited over for dinner a couple months ago.” He shook his head. “Someone needs to teach her about proper cyber security.”
“She isn’t going to think a kid would be able to log into her account and get away with it.”
“True.” He grinned, and Mandy grinned right back. “Innocence is on our side.”
“You know this isn’t exactly hacking, right?”
He shrugged. “Maybe not. More luck than anything else, but I would’ve been able to figure it out. I could’ve hacked into her email and probably gotten her password that way. But you have to be careful about logging in on different devices and deleting the security warnings to cover your tracks.”
Mandy wanted to pretend she cared about those kinds of details, but she’d be lying. Every minute that passed felt like Laura Lynn was getting farther away from her. She pointed to the search bar. “Put her name in there.”
Marcus did as he was told, and a few keystrokes later, they were looking at a complete list of Laura Lynn’s symptoms, as well as her prognosis. Neither of them dared to breathe. Marcus hit a button, and the printer came to life, whirring and clicking and spitting paper out onto the floor. Neither reached for the information, for fear that it would make it true.
Instead, they turned to each other, a mirror image of fear and panic. Mandy couldn’t even think of two words to say as her heart leapt into her throat.
16
Bear paced the length of the house, his mind in overdrive. He’d sent Mandy to hang out with the kid who was good with computers. There was a risk with her out of his sight. He needed her safe and somewhere away from all of this. Plus, he needed space to think. The body, the reporters, the questions from the sheriff. He could handle all of that. But someone had tried to run them off the road. With Mandy in the car.
His rage level had passed ten out of ten hours ago.
It was only mid-morning, but Bear had been up for hours. His sleep had been restless. He knew he had to up his game. Finding that body had shaken something loose. Perhaps the van had only been a warning. He had to prepare for whatever came next.
His phone vibrated. He had it to his ear before the second ring. “Yeah?”
“It’s McKinnon.” Her voice was steady but tense. “I’ve got some info.”
Bear stepped up to the blinds in the living room and parted them with his fingers. The activity had become his favorite pastime. “Hit me with it.”
“I ran the partial plate I got last night along with the make and model of that van.”
“Tell me it’s good news.”
“Could be worse. The partial plate matches with about twenty different vans. All the same make and model.”
Bear let the blinds drop closed. “That seems abnormal. Who do they belong to?”
“Bowser Freight. It’s a shipping company. They’ve got a couple different locations in a few states, and there’s a facility halfway between here and Rochester.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Hang on, cowboy.” It sounded like McKinnon shifted her phone from one ear to the other. “I want to know what we’re dealing with before we go in there, guns blazing. And if they’ve got damage to a van, I want to prove it’s the one that hit us.”
“You want to go back to the scene of the crime?”
“You in?”
Bear was itching to get answers, even if it meant throwing a few punches. Especially if it meant throwing some punches. But McKinnon was right. They’d be better off going into this place with as much evidence as they could gather. It’d be worth the trouble if it meant pinning down whoever did this.
The truck was in a body shop. They had to replace the driver’s side door, fix the front bumper, and put on a new passenger side mirror. Money wasn’t the issue. Time was. It’d be a couple of days before he’d have his vehicle back. Bear already felt locked in. McKinnon had offered to drive him around, and although riding in the front seat of the sheriff’s cruiser wasn’t exactly lying low, going to Rochester to rent a car for two days didn’t seem worth it.
Besides, they had work to do. Riding together saved time. They could discuss the specifics, ideas, and hunches.
Within half an hour, Bear and McKinnon were standing on the side of the road where they’d found out how well the truck would handle an off-road experience. Looking at the terrain in the daylight made Bear realize how lucky they had been. If they had hit that tree, one of them would’ve been seriously injured. What if it had been Mandy?
He had to shake his body to get away from the thought.
McKinnon handed him a plastic Ziploc bag and a pair of gloves. “Pick up anything that looks like it came from that van. Even if you’re not sure, toss it in there.”
Bear squeezed on the gloves. They cut into his wrists. “What are these, extra small?”
“Mediums. It’s all we had.”
“Remind me again why we’re out here?” Bear asked, even though he’d agreed to it. The sun was scorching, and the heat made him angry. “Isn’t this what deputies are for?”
“I wanted to look myself.” McKinnon took out her phone and snapped a pic of the tread marks. Bear was sure they were from his truck, but he didn’t bother saying anything. Better to have it all accounted for. “Not really sure who I can trust anymore.”
“So, you brought me, the guy you hardly know?”
She shrugged. “You seem all right to me.”
“N
ow you sound like me.” He chuckled. “You worried about your own people?”
“I’m worried about everyone.”
“Even me?”
“Especially you.” McKinnon glanced back at him and smiled. “But not about this. You’ve got something to hide, but I don’t think it has anything to do with why we got run off the road.”
“Not this again.” Bear had no intention of dumping his stuff on her, no matter how many times she asked.
“In all seriousness,” she said, grunting as she stood up while putting a piece of orange plastic in her bag, “yeah, I am worried. If what happened to the girl in the tank, Katie, is happening to Laura Lynn and my neighbor’s kid, then the police knew about it. Or if they didn’t, they knew not to ask questions about it. Luckily, I’m not that smart.”
“You’re plenty smart, Sheriff.” Bear meant it. “But that doesn’t mean you’re not up to your eyeballs in it.”
“Tell me about it.”
They worked in silence for a few minutes. Bear found some pieces of plastic here and there, a few months-old cigarette butts, and a crumpled-up napkin. He could feel the sweat running down his back. “In my experience, if someone’s trying to kill you, you’re on the right track.”
“Not exactly the welcome wagon you want, though.”
“You got any enemies?” Bear found some fiberglass from a fender and stuck it in his bag. “Could this be something unrelated to Katie and your conspiracy theory?”
“Old Man Jones thinks I cheat at chess. Could be him. Heard he’s got ties to the mafia.” McKinnon grinned when Bear looked up at her with a scowl. “I should ask you the same thing. You seem like the kind of guy who’s been in a fight or two. Got any enemies?”
“Not in this zip code.” Then, under his breath, “That I know of.”
The pair of them made their way down the side of the road and searched through the tall grass. Bear found some shattered glass that he was sure was from his truck, but he put it in his bag, anyway. It was harder finding anything here, and after another half hour, they leaned up against the tree, both sweating and out of breath.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Bear held up his bag.
McKinnon raised hers, too. It was about twenty percent fuller than his, not least because of a partial headlight she’d picked up on the shoulder. “The van took some damage. There’ll be no hiding this. It’ll have to go in for repairs, same as your truck.”
Bear pushed off the tree and ripped the sweat-stained gloves from his hands. He ran his palms down his shirt. “What do we know about this Bowser company?”
“Seemed normal to me. Like I said, they do a lot of shipping. Started off as a moving company in the fifties, then got some bigger clients. Started doing freight instead. The original company was founded just outside Rochester, but they’ve got some facilities in New Jersey and Pennsylvania. They seem like a legitimate company. At least on paper.”
“They usually do. But it only takes one person. If someone’s using their vans to go on joyrides, the company won’t be happy about it. Let’s hope that makes them more willing to hand the person over.”
McKinnon began the trek back to her cruiser. “Only one way to find out.”
17
As they pulled into Bowser Freight’s parking lot, Bear leaned forward to decrease the glare from the cruiser’s hood and take it all in. The building had all the hallmarks of a family-owned business with a modicum of success. Half the building looked old and well-worn, while the addition had clearly been built a decade or more later.
The old half of the warehouse held the entrance and a main office, as well as two loading docks. Four more had been added later, with the last two allowing for a semi-truck to fully pull into the building.
Bear whistled. “Seems like they’re doing good for themselves.”
“Must be,” McKinnon said. “But it makes me wonder if they’ve got any side hustles.”
Bear looked around the lot. “Don’t see any vans.”
“Let’s go ask them about it.”
McKinnon got out and crossed the parking lot with Bear in tow. Her stride was casual, but he caught her taking in the entire building, the gears working in her head. What would they do if they found a damaged van on the property? What would they do if they didn’t? And more importantly, what would happen if they couldn’t get inside to begin with?
Bear cracked his knuckles in anticipation. McKinnon gave him a sharp look. He feigned innocence, but he was ready for whatever might happen.
A stocky man stood outside the entrance and lit a cigarette. He sucked in a deep breath and blew it out, the white smoke obscuring his face for a few seconds. But Bear could tell he never took his eyes off them. His upper lip twitched as they approached.
“Good morning.” McKinnon’s voice was cheery and nonchalant. There was no way the two of them wouldn’t look like a threat to someone who had something to hide. “Can I get your name, sir?”
The man peered at them. Bear wondered if he’d refuse. But after a beat, he said, “Howie.”
“Got a last name, Howie?”
He pointed at the sign above him that read “Bowser” in big red letters.
“You’re the owner?” McKinnon asked.
“Co-owner. With my brother.” Howie took another drag and looked Bear up and down. “What can I do for you?”
“We had a report of a van driving someone off the road last night. Make and model matches the kind your company drives.”
“It’s a common van.” Howie looked off to his right as he exhaled smoke. His voice hadn’t changed, but Bear saw him stand up a little straighter. Was it guilt or fear? “Lots of shipping companies use them.”
“We also had a partial plate.” McKinnon frowned, as though she were sad to relay this information to him. “Matches a few at this site.”
Another drag. Another few seconds that Howie kept his facial expression hidden. He met McKinnon’s stare. “What are you implying?”
Bear didn’t wait for McKinnon to answer. “Think it’s obvious. We want to know if it was one of your vehicles.”
“Was anyone hurt?”
That threw Bear off. People who had something to hide rarely cared about that. He relented. “No.”
After another beat, the man said, “We didn’t have any van drivers out last night. And I didn’t see any come in with damage.”
McKinnon gestured to the front door. “Mind if we look around?”
“Don’t you need a warrant for that?”
McKinnon’s face stretched into a wide grin. “Only if you have something to hide.”
The man knew what McKinnon meant. But he wouldn’t make it easy on them. “Got a badge?”
Bear scoffed. He pointed to McKinnon’s sheriff uniform, then gestured to the cruiser behind them. “Really?”
Howie shrugged. It was lazy. No heat behind it. “Can’t be too careful.”
McKinnon pulled out her badge and held it up to him.
He leaned forward and read it for a good ten seconds. “All right.” He dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out with his toe. “Vans are ‘round back.”
Howie walked them along the side of the building to a parking lot they hadn’t noticed on the way in. More than a dozen vans were lined up in perfect rows, waiting to be loaded and driven to their destinations.
Bear counted them in his head. “You got more than just these?”
“A handful are out today.” Howie pointed to the immaculate side of the closest van. “But we wouldn’t let them drive off if there was even a scratch on ‘em. Got a reputation, you know.”
“Mind if we walk around?” McKinnon asked.
“Knock yourselves out.”
McKinnon and Bear approached the first van in silence. Bear took in every inch of the vehicle. The panel doors, the bumpers, the fenders, the headlights, the side-view mirrors. He even leaned his forehead up against the glass and cupped his hands around his eyes, trying to see if there was an
ything in the center console that screamed, I recently tried to kill three people.
They did this with every van. Sixteen in total. They were spotless. Half the vehicles were at least five years old, but there wasn’t a scratch on them. Not a spot of rust. Bear would’ve thought it was strange if there’d only been one or two in perfect condition, as though they’d recently been given a makeover, but a fleet of this size meant Howie and his brother took pride in their stock. Nothing criminal about that.
When they reached the final van in the last row, McKinnon blew a lock of hair out of her face. She turned to Bear. “You see anything?”
“Nothing. No dents or dings. No scratches. Not even anything that looks like it’s been recently repaired.” He could feel his temper flaring again. “You sure the van came from here?”
“No, I’m not sure.” McKinnon was having trouble holding back her frustration, too. “Just seemed most likely. Without the full license plate, we’re just taking an educated guess.”
Bear scuffed the pavement with his boot. Loose rocks went skittering into the closest tire. “No glass or anything lying around either. Even if that van belongs to the company, I don’t think the driver brought it back here. Could be anywhere at this point.”
McKinnon made her way back to Howie, who stood at the back entrance smoking another cigarette. “How many vans did you say were out on the road today?”
“Four. We have a fleet of twenty here.” Howie blew out a breath of smoke, angling it up and away from them. “But like I said, if one was banged up, we wouldn’t have let it off the lot.”
Bear hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Those are some good-looking vans.”
“Thank you.” Howie dropped the cigarette. “We take pride in what we do. Wouldn’t have gotten this far if we didn’t.”
“You have a place you take your vans if they get damaged?”
“Nah, just take them to the cheapest place. Nowhere in particular.”
Just then, the back door opened and a skinny man in his twenties popped his head out. He took in the Sheriff and Bear with wide eyes, then turned to Howie. “Chief, we need you back inside for a sec.”