Hunt and Prey (Kelsey's Burden Series Book 8)

by Kaylie Hunter

  “You got it, Boss.” Trigger said.

  ~*~*~

  Over the next thirty minutes, I watched all the monitors with Tech, while Whiskey taught Bridget some upgraded electrical skills. Bones and Trigger were putting the last of the furniture and boxes back into the room being used for storage. Tech corrected Bones a few times of where to place a box or stand, ensuring everything was put back in its original location.

  Bridget finished wiring the front camera with a secondary mini-cam mounted on top of it. The feed was already routing directly to Tech.

  Trigger had tagged about a dozen random items for voice bugging, but we had no idea which rooms the items belonged in, so he also placed bugs under a few built-in counters throughout the building, and one more in a backroom office behind an air vent.

  “Pack up and check your equipment,” I said over the mic. “Make sure there’s no sign of entry. I want you guys out of there.”

  Tech lifted a pad of paper that was sitting beside him. “Bones, according to my notes, you left a Philip screwdriver on the floor in the hallway, your night vision goggles in the back office, and you forgot to flush the toilet when you peed.”

  Bones was quiet a moment before he stepped out into the hallway and picked up the screwdriver. “No shit?”

  “No shit. Get the goggles and flush the toilet.”

  Bones walked down the hall toward the office. “I’m changing my mind on these bodycams. We should talk to Donovan.”

  I laughed. “I mentioned the idea to him, but he told me you guys would never wear them.”

  Bones snorted. “I can sell it.” I heard the toilet flush.

  “I’ll back him on the sales pitch,” Jackson said. “Not that Donovan ever lets us do B&Es, but having a second set of eyes remotely taking screen shots would be super helpful in the protection side of Aces.”

  Tech looked over his shoulder at me and shook his head. Turning back to the monitors, he reached over and unmuted his mic. “Kelsey already had me order and program the fifty body cams. They’re sitting on a shelf in the basement, just waiting to be put to good use.”

  “When?” Bones asked.

  “Two months ago,” Tech answered.

  “Unknown bogie entering the neighborhood from the south,” I said, watching the monitor for the perimeter. “Lights out, boys and girl.”

  The body cams showed the flashlights being turned off. Trigger and Bridget flipped the switch on their body cams to night vision. I watched Trigger walk over to Bones and switch his body cam over for him. In the green hue on Trigger’s cam, I saw Bones raise an eyebrow.

  “I’ve got the bogie in my sights,” Jackson said. “He’s slowing down.” There was a pause. “Damn. He’s pulling into the dentist office parking lot.”

  I looked over at Tech, pointing to his notepad. “Are we clear to leave?”

  “Everything’s marked off except the drywall dust on the carpet where Bridget worked.”

  “Bridget,” Whiskey said. “Rub your hand back and forth on the carpet to embed the dust.”

  We watched her give the carpet a good rub down before she sprang upward. She walked blindly through the room, counting out her steps, and then down the hall to where Trigger and Bones were. She had night vision goggles in her backpack, but she never used them. Bridget had partial vision in a pitch-black setting which still boggled my brain cells. She could also memorize the entrances and exits, along with distances and directions. On her way past the boys, she grabbed Trigger’s hand and pulled him toward the small stairway. Trigger grabbed Bones’ arm and pulled him forward as well.

  “I can’t see,” Bones said. “Stop so I can put my goggles on.”

  “You don’t need to see,” Trigger said. “Just listen to Bridget and take Bridget-sized steps.”

  We watched Bones stumble about before seeing him transition into pacing out his steps to Bridget’s counting. Within ten seconds, all three of them were ready and waiting at the upstairs window.

  “What’s our status, Jackson?”

  “Hold. I don’t have a clear view. I saw the taillights on the car go off, but whoever it is never walked this way. They could be inside already.”

  “I would’ve heard them,” Trigger said. “No one’s inside yet.”

  Bridget reached over and covered Trigger’s mouth.

  “Silent, everyone,” Tech said over his mic. “Bridget saw something in the alley.”

  Bridget released her hand and leaned forward to look out the window again. Because of the angle, we couldn’t see on her bodycam whatever she was watching. We did see on Bones’ cam when she lifted her hand, and using her fingers, started counting down from five.

  “Four, three two, one…” Tech called out for her.

  “Got him,” Jackson said. “Security guard. He just exited the alley and is walking past the front of the building. Dumbass isn’t even bothering to flash a light at the windows. He’s on auto-pilot.”

  We all waited.

  “Shit. He just lit a cigarette. He’s leaned against the building. Let’s hope he’s not a chain smoker.”

  “Jackson, keep your head down. We don’t want him spotting you,” I said. “The rest of you stay close to the window until we’re in the clear.”

  “Hey, Tech?” Bridget asked in a whisper. “What’s the status on the alarm system?” She held the window sensor out. Trigger had rigged it to show a fake connection which had allowed them access.

  “It’s live. Don’t break that connection or it’ll get real loud real fast in there.”

  “No worries.” Bridget grabbed Trigger’s hand and placed it on the sensor wire, then lifted his hand upward another three inches. Then she pulled super glue from her B&E bag, and while Trigger held the sensor, she glued it to the sidewall. Then she pulled a scalpel out, removing it from its sheath, and used the blade to carefully cut and pry the old sensor receiver off the glass pane. “All set,” Bridget said, tapping Trigger’s arm to let him know he could let go. She tucked the glue and scalpel back in her bag. “Can we go now?”

  “The guard just finished his cigarette,” Jackson said. “He’s walking back to the parking lot. I’m waiting to see if he’s leaving or planning to make another circle.”

  “Anyone want to swim when we get back to the house?” Bridget asked.

  “I could go for a swim,” Trigger said. “Hey, Tech, what about you?”

  “We’ll see. I need to check on Katie. Last time I saw her, she was puking mojitos into a trash can in our room.”

  “I told her not to mix the mojitos and long island ice teas. Rookie mistake,” Bridget said.

  “The security guard is leaving,” Jackson said. “Pulling out of the parking lot now. Turned north. Exit is clear.”

  Bridget had Bones and Trigger slip out the window first, then she slid out, closing the window behind her. She pulled a Jimmie stick from her bag, wiggled it between the panes, then jerked her wrist to the side. We heard over the mic the latch snap closed. “Window locked.”

  She turned and dropped down into Bones’ arms.

  Bones whispered a chuckle. “You’re good at this shit.”

  “It’s so much more fun than working retail,” she whispered back, giggling.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  CHARLIE

  Wednesday, 12:37 a.m.

  Arriving at the mansion, I parked and shuffled my gear from the Mustang’s trunk to Wild Card’s rental. Wild Card opened a door on the SUV for Beast, who leapt into the back seat. Doors were closed, and in less than three minutes, we were on our way again with Uncle Hank, Detective Chambers, Gibson, and Quille following us out of the driveway.

  Before reaching the truck stop, I pointed for Wild Card to pull into a restaurant parking lot. The lot was empty and the building’s interior lights were off. The rest of our gang pulled in behind us. Getting out of our vehicles, we clustered together in the darkest section of the lot.

  “What’s the plan?” Quille said. “And this better be good. Miranda�
��s livid.”

  I pulled my phone and texted Miranda: Will a three-day cruise this weekend get Quille out of the doghouse?

  I watched three dots float back and forth for almost a minute before she finally replied: Yes.

  I texted Baker to book the trip and sent him Miranda’s phone number. “Your wife is happy. But you’ll need to take this weekend off.”

  “How the hell do I justify taking time off with a serial killer running loose in Miami?”

  “If we don’t catch the killer in the next day or two, it could take us months to close the case. Either way, Miranda’s packing, so if you change the plans on her she really will divorce your ass.”

  Chambers waved a hand toward our surroundings. “Where are we?”

  Gibson pointed across the shaggy brush field that separated the truck stop and the restaurant. “That’s the truck stop where Roseline Pageotte worked. But I have no idea why we’re here.”

  “Roseline’s boss, Sue Dodd, told me she left several messages for Roseline when she didn’t show for her shift.”

  “Ah, the phone,” Quille said, catching up with me. “Did you ask the manager if she called the same number we have on file?”

  “No. Either Roseline had another phone or Dodd’s lied to me. I’m not willing to tip her off by asking just yet.”

  “So… This is a stakeout?” Uncle Hank asked.

  “Yuppers,” I answered.

  Everyone except Gibson and Wild Card sighed.

  “And there’s a fifty-fifty chance we’re wasting our time?” Quille asked.

  “Yup.”

  “But you have a hunch,” Uncle Hank said as he crossed his arms over his chest and smirked. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have asked for backup. You would’ve sat on the truck stop alone.”

  “It’s more of a theory than a hunch. And I have no idea if it will play out tonight or a month from now.”

  Quille sighed and rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Spit it out. I’m not getting any younger.”

  “When I was here the other night, lots of trucks were coming and going. But as soon as the word cop was uttered, they all turned and fled.”

  “Truckers keep to themselves,” Chambers said. “Why did that surprise you?”

  “Truckers avoid cops, yes, but they don’t typically flee like rats in a fire. And Dodd said the last time the police were here, it took days for the truckers to reappear. Was she exaggerating? Or do the truckers know something we don’t about this place and don’t want to get caught up in it?”

  “What are you thinking?” Quille asked.

  “I’m thinking there’s something shady going on and Sue Dodd is part of it. And according to Roseline’s brother, if there was something shady happening here, Roseline would’ve picked up on it.”

  “What are the odds Roseline would be employed at another dirty truck stop?” Uncle Hank asked.

  “Statistically, we know that twenty-four-hour businesses tend to have higher crime rates,” I answered. “Add in the fact that the truck stop is off the main expressway, has multiple exit routes, and is on the outskirts of most patrol zones…”

  “We get it,” Quille said, finishing for me. “The perfect real estate for the criminally inclined.”

  “Not to mention, one side of the building’s exterior lights are out,” Wild Card said from the outskirts of our circle.

  Wild Card stood with his hands on his hips, facing away from us. The field between the truck stop and the restaurant parking lot was mostly flat with a few short scrappy shrubs thrown in. I looked past the field and saw what Wild Card saw. The west side of the building, the side closest to us, had tall post lights on the outskirts of the parking lot, but along the exterior of the building the lights were out, leaving a section of darkness.

  “Son of a bitch. How did I miss that?” I whispered to myself more than anyone. “I was just here less than forty-eight hours ago.”

  “You were pretty busy that night getting your ass kicked,” Quille said, letting me off the hook. “But how did I miss it?”

  “By the time you arrived, there were police lights and spotlights everywhere,” I said, letting him off the hook, too.

  Uncle Hank turned to look at me. “You’ve been inside. What’s on the west side of the building?”

  I thought back to when I was inside the truck stop. I’d parked to the far south, walked north into the building. The cash register was to the west, and the manager’s office and employee-only area was behind the register. “Employee only section. Likely a storage room. Definitely an office.”

  “What’s the plan?” Detective Chambers asked.

  “You and Gibson take the east parking lot,” I said, handing him two earpieces. “I’m limited on cameras, so use your phones if you see anything picture worthy.”

  “I keep a camera in my trunk,” Detective Chambers said. “And before you ask, yes, I’ll make sure Gibson turns the flash off.”

  I smiled at Chambers before turning to Uncle Hank and Quille. “You two can do your good ole’ boy routine. Wander inside and buy food your wives would have hissy fits over, then park yourselves at the outdoor tables nearby.”

  Uncle Hank looked sideways at Quille as he moved his holster from his hip to his back, pulling his shirt out of his pants to conceal it. “Golf vacation? Or business trip?”

  “Let’s go with business trip since we’re both wearing wrinkled button-ups,” Quille answered, walking with Hank back to his car. “Insurance sales again?”

  “Let’s switch it up. How about—” Uncle Hank said before their car doors shut and the rest of the conversation was lost to us.

  I turned to Maggie and Wild Card. “The three of us,” I paused to look down at Beast, “I meant four of us,” I said to Beast before turning back to Maggie and Wild Card, “will set up on the northwest corner of the lot. We can position ourselves in the weeds. We’ll have a clear view of the exit.”

  “No way,” Wild Card said, looking at the display on his phone. He turned the display to show a google image of the area. “Let’s stay in the field on the west side. There’s a canal to the north. I’ll guard you against Mr. Tricky, but I draw the line at battling it out with gators.”

  “That puts us further away from the action,” I said.

  “Ever hear of a zoom feature on your camera?” Wild Card said as he walked over to his rental and started pulling his gear.

  I looked over at Maggie. “He’s such a baby.”

  She whispered low enough for Wild Card not to hear, “What are the chances that the gators will be in the field we’re about to walk across?”

  “Don’t know, but I brought both a thermal camera and a rifle with a night-vision thermal scope—just in case.” From the back of the SUV, I pulled out my duffle bags, passing out vests and gear.

  “When did you pack all this?” Wild Card asked, looking over my shoulder.

  “I keep gear in all my vehicles. I transferred everything from my Mustang to your ride when we stopped at the mansion.”

  Wild Card pulled a utility belt loaded with flash bangs out of one of my bags. “I’ve been driving your convertible around with explosive toys in the trunk?”

  “Yup.”

  “This is Florida. Doesn’t the trunk get hot?” Maggie asked.

  “I paid for special insulation to be installed in the trunk. And the bags are also insulated. So, most days it’s not an issue. But if we’re having a heatwave, Garth moves the gear indoors.”

  “This is so cool,” Wild Card said.

  I looked over and saw him playing with the thermal camera. He had it aimed at Beast. You could see Beasts tongue, appearing orange and red on the camera, hanging down about eight inches, dripping red dots. I pulled the strap on my vest and secured the Velcro.

  “You want the rifle or the camera?” I asked Wild Card as I closed the back of the SUV with one hand and carried the rifle with the other.

  “Camera,” he answered, strutting toward the field.

  “All
right. But watch out for groupings of small lizards.”

  “Why?” he asked, panning the camera across the field.

  “Baby gators. Anything born this year will only be a few inches long, but they’ll be grouped together. If they’re last year’s babies, they’ll be around a foot or two in length. Either way, momma gator will be nearby.”

  “How long will she protect them?” Maggie asked, looking across the field.

  “Until they’re big enough to protect themselves. Usually four feet or so.”

  Wild Card looked back at me, offering me the camera as he reached for the rifle. “Just tell me where to shoot.”

  I laughed and started scanning the field from the road to the furthest distance on the other side. I’d have to keep checking, but for now, it appeared safe enough to cross.

  ~*~*~

  Three hours later, I was about as annoyed as a person could get without screaming. In the earpiece I listened to Gibson babble non-stop about sports. Behind me, Maggie and Wild Card were playing with the thermal equipment. One of them would find a heated image in the field, then they’d guess what the animal was before racing each other to find a match on google using their phones.

  At least Uncle Hank and Quille had muted their mics after they’d vacated their patio table and pretended to drive away. I hadn’t heard from them since they’d relocated back to the restaurant parking lot, letting me know they were watching the front parking lot via binoculars.

  I didn’t mind stakeouts. In fact, most of the time, I enjoyed them because I was usually alone. It was quiet. Peaceful. This was nowhere near that.

  Beast’s head swiveled to the right, toward the road. I watched Spence drive past in my Toyota—again. Spence and Ryan had set up a loop. One of them passed every twenty minutes. I had no idea what they did the rest of the time, but hoped that Spence had stopped somewhere to put gas in the tank. The short-bed truck was decent on fuel but had a small gas tank.

  Beast sat up, leaning his weight into my leg. I reached over to pat him, but realized his head was no longer facing the road. Looking, I followed his stare to the side door of the truck stop. Sue Dodd was opening the door and stepping out to look around. When she didn’t see anyone, she flung the doorstop downward to hold the door open. She was on her phone, but I couldn’t hear what she was saying.