High Risk

by G. K. Parks

  “I was speaking metaphorically from the killers’ mindset.”

  Lisco stared at the board. “If you want the money so badly, and you can’t grab it from the original source, you find another source.”

  “Why go through the trouble?” Voletek asked. “The original source is dangling in front of me. I just need a better plan to get it.”

  Fennel and I exchanged a glance. “Patrols are escorting the LockBox trucks on their routes. Police will be nearby to intervene,” he said.

  “But not forever,” Voletek said. “Those are just temporary until we find these bastards or decide the threat has passed.” He met my eyes, the cynicism bleeding through. “Or whenever those on high decide this is a waste of money and resources and pull the plug.”

  “Then we have to figure out who they are and how to stop them before that happens,” Fennel said.

  Twenty

  “Are you fucking insane?” Carter paced back and forth. “You’re going to get us all arrested or killed.”

  The third man finished divvying up the cash they’d taken from the dispensary and zipped the last of the three duffel bags. “Fine. Take your cut and walk.” He shoved the bag across the dusty floor. “But you’re the one who knocked out that cop. That was all on you, man.”

  “So what?”

  “So you should have killed him,” the third man said.

  “He was a cop. That’d be suicide.” Carter took off the cap, holding the bill in one hand while he tapped it against his open palm. “I don’t want to die. The entire point of this was to get enough money to disappear and start over somewhere new. To have opportunities to be someone. To be somewhere that doesn’t suck balls.”

  “Did he see you?” Diego asked. He’d been quiet since their escape in the subway station.

  “Who?” Carter asked.

  “The cop, numbnuts,” the third man hissed. “Can he ID you?”

  Carter shook his head. “No. He didn’t get a look at me. I spotted him the moment I got off the train. I knew he’d follow me, so I led him into the out of order restroom and clocked him the moment he stepped inside. Then I changed hats and jackets and walked out. He didn’t see anything.”

  The third man resisted the urge to argue. “No witnesses. That’s what we agreed.”

  “Yeah, we also said we were going to wait for the truck to empty out, surprise the driver, and take the cash. Why didn’t we stick with that plan?” Diego asked.

  The third man whipped his gaze to his other accomplice. Until now, Diego hadn’t spoken out against any of their actions. But shooting the LockBox driver must have gotten to him. “Are you questioning my plan?”

  “Damn right I am,” Diego said. “Look, today was FUBAR. We should have walked when the truck didn’t show on time. We shouldn’t have stayed. We shouldn’t have tried to salvage it by stealing from the dispensary. If we hadn’t gone in there…”

  “What?” The third man stood, one hand prepared to grab the gun holstered at the small of his back. People ought to know better than to turn on him. He wouldn’t tolerate their insolence. He could carry this out himself or find others who would help.

  “They wouldn’t be dead,” Carter muttered.

  “They didn’t give us a choice. They would have killed us. You know that, don’t you? That’s what they do. People in uniforms have no respect for us. You’ve seen how they act. I’ve told you stories. What I’ve seen. What I’ve experienced. The things they’ve done to me. I didn’t deserve that. But that’s how they all are.” The third man’s cheek twitched, the anger boiling up inside of him.

  “I’m not saying it wasn’t tough on the inside. I’ve heard horror stories about that place,” Carter said.

  “It was bad,” Diego said. “But that’s what it’s like on the inside. Some of the guards are just as brutal as the inmates.” He shifted his gaze to the third man. “I had your back on the inside. And I still have your back, but these aren’t COs. The men we killed today were probably nothing more than rent-a-cops. But they saw our faces. And I can’t go back to prison. I get that we didn’t have a choice, but if we walked, none of that would have happened.” He turned to Carter. “You wouldn’t survive, man. I barely did.” He glanced back at the third man. “We barely did.”

  “So now what do we do?” Carter asked. “The cops are on to us. They almost caught up to you guys at the train station.”

  “But they didn’t. And I’ll die before they take me,” the third man vowed. “We just need to get our money and get out of here. That’s been the plan all along. Nothing’s gonna change it. The more heat they apply, the more driven we are to make this happen. So it’s time you pick a side, Carter.” He was the only one who hadn’t killed, which made him a liability and the weak link.

  Something in Carter’s frightened blue eyes and his trembling hands gave away his true thoughts, even as he said, “I said I’m in, so I’m in.”

  “Then I’m going to need you to prove it,” the third man replied.

  Carter swallowed, perspiration lining his upper lip. “How?”

  * * *

  Brad pushed his chair under the table. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going? We’re not finished in here.”

  “We need a break.”

  “No,” I shook my head vehemently, “they’re not finished yet. You said you were working on a list of possible targets. Let’s go over those again. Since we have no idea who they are, we have to figure out what their next move is. It’s our only shot at stopping them. We can’t exactly triangulate their locations with this mess.” I pointed at the map with its random smattering of points of interest. There was no pattern or rhyme or reason to their movements.

  “And we will, but you’re aggravated and bitchy. We need to take a moment to regroup.” He cocked his head to the side. “Let’s get something to eat. I could use some food for thought, and I’m sure you could too. After that, we’ll swing by Star Cleaners. Maybe we’ll notice something we missed before. We need fresh eyes. Everything about yesterday’s break-in has changed. That means we need to reassess.”

  Reluctantly, I pushed my chair in. “How do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Know exactly what to say when I know this is tearing you up as much as it is me.”

  He snorted. “We take turns getting frustrated and obnoxious about it. This asshole shot at you. That means you get to be the emotionally unstable one today.” Something sinister passed behind Brad’s eyes. “But he better not try that again.” He slipped into his coat and handed me my jacket off the back of my chair. “However, I have not forgotten you crashed my softball game or that I did not get to enjoy my championship breakfast afterward. So I want brunch.”

  “Brunch?” I pointed at my watch. “It’s dinnertime.”

  “Fine, breakfast for dinner. Do you have a problem with it?”

  “No, but you better not pick one of those places that puts pancake batter in their omelets or I’ll be very unhappy.”

  “You could pretend you’re undercover and just eat it.”

  “No way, buddy. I already had one man offer me grains for breakfast. We’re not doing that again.”

  Brad palmed a set of keys to one of the unmarked cruisers, silently asking if he could drive. Truthfully, I doubted I could concentrate on the road with all the wayward thoughts about the case floating through my mind. “What if it’s almond flour pancake batter? You good with that?”

  I nodded.

  “So who tried to feed you breakfast?”

  “No one.”

  “C’mon, Liv, you just said–”

  “I know. It was just some guy I spoke to this morning. He tried to be charming by offering me breakfast. It didn’t go over the way he thought.”

  “Jake?”

  “Hell no. He knows better.”

  “He should.” From Brad’s tone, I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that, but I let it go. Neither of us had the energy to continue the conversation we had
started hours ago before the shit hit the fan.

  Ten minutes later, Brad found a place and parked the car. “Is Nana’s okay?” He pointed to the diner.

  “It’s great. They know us.” Which meant they didn’t mind our picky ordering. Regardless of what anyone said, my partner was just as difficult to please as I was. Maybe more, since he had quite a few food aversions, thanks to a bad batch of MREs and too many tours in the Middle East. Of course, partnering with me and spending lots of time with Emma had only exacerbated the situation.

  We entered the diner to find a few senior citizens enjoying the early bird special. But most of the tables were empty, so we took up our preferred spot in the back corner. Since there were no windows directly beside the table, I sat with my back against one wall, and Brad sat beside me with his back against the other.

  “Hey, there are my two favorite customers. I haven’t seen you in a while.” Beatrice handed us the laminated menus and leaned in. “I saw the news today. Is it just me, or is it getting crazy out there?”

  “Crazy,” I mumbled.

  “Do you know what you want, or do you need a minute?” She put two water glasses down in front of us.

  “Liv?” Brad asked.

  “I’ll have the southwest omelet with the free-range grilled chicken. No cheese. No sour cream. And the almond flour strawberry banana pancakes.”

  Beatrice scribbled it down on her pad. “And for you?”

  “Ooh, that sounds good. Same pancakes, but I want the grass-fed steak with three eggs. Scrambled.”

  “Do you want the hash browns that come with it?”

  “Yes, with onions.” Brad handed her the menus.

  “Okay. Coming right up.” She put two mugs down on the table and poured us coffee without asking since she knew that’s what we’d want.

  After breakfast or dinner, whatever it was, which consisted of my omelet and eating the strawberries and bananas off a stack of pancakes while watching Brad clean his plate and the remaining pancakes I left on mine, we headed to Star Cleaners.

  Despite the official police tape and the cardboard covering the broken door, there were no obvious signs of what occurred yesterday morning. Mr. Lee planned to open up tomorrow afternoon, after the glass repairman fixed the door.

  “What are we looking for?” An uneasiness crept into my gut.

  Fennel checked the door. The crime scene guys had marked it, so he sliced through the tape and pushed the door open. Inside, remnants of their investigative tools remained, but most of the mess had been cleaned. The ficus had been removed, and the blood and tissue had been washed off the floor.

  “Police,” I announced. “Is anyone here?”

  “Just a second,” a male voice called from the back.

  “Mr. Lee?” I asked, noticing my hand had traveled to my gun.

  “Yes, I’m in the back office. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

  While we waited, I surveyed the room. Evidence collection had been completed, and the scene had been turned over to professional cleaners. The security footage had been assessed, along with the security logs, but none of that yielded any results.

  “Did CSU find any fingerprints on the shards of broken glass?” I asked Brad.

  “Nothing. And nothing on the cameras either. The sarge had patrol check dumpsters and trashcans for discarded oil containers and cooking sprays, but we didn’t find any of those either. These assholes make sure they clean up after themselves.”

  Mr. Lee emerged from behind the curtain with both hands visible, as if he knew we were jumpy and didn’t want to risk startling us. “I was told I could come back here to clean up and check my records. I did another inventory after we spoke, but I can’t be sure if any other items were taken from the clothes rack or if they’d just been picked up.”

  “What about uniforms? You said you run a special. You must have regulars. What kinds of uniforms do you usually get?” Brad asked.

  “I have a couple of city bus drivers, some mechanics, and the LockBox truck guys. That’s all I can remember. I clean police and military dress uniforms fairly regularly, but I wouldn’t say my regulars drop them off.” He eyed us, his inner salesman surfacing. “I could clean your uniforms regularly and give you a good price. How about a two for one discount since you’re investigating the break-in?”

  “No, thanks. Liv has a problem with chemical cleaning agents.”

  “Speaking of,” I said, annoyed my partner had used me as an excuse, “you seemed positive the crime had to do with your dry cleaning chemicals being used as inhalants. Did you find any missing?”

  “No. The containers in back are sealed, and the ones we’ve been using appear to contain the same amount and consistency as before. I even checked my records, since they are used and discarded at nearly the same rate every week, but we’re right on schedule.”

  “Okay, good.” I peered through the now open curtain, but no one else was in the shop. “We have a few more questions for you.”

  “Certainly. How can I help?”

  “For starters, we’re wondering who would know you had access to LockBox uniforms?”

  Lee thought about it for a moment. “Anyone. Everyone. It’s no secret. Have you seen our webpage? I post all the companies we’ve cleaned or have cleaned.”

  Brad reached for his phone and waited for Arthur Lee to give him the url before typing it in. “Yeah, it’s on here.” He scanned the rest of the page but didn’t find any comments or obvious tracking links.

  “I also mention it on my flyers. Police, military, security guard, dress uniforms, repairmen’s coveralls, any uniform, one low price, which I’ll admit came back to bite me in the ass. Do you have any idea how many grease stains these mechanics wanted me to get out of their shirts? I thought they’d just buy new ones or wear them dirty. And that’s just my regular customers. Of course, everyone who ever worked here or works here knows the kind of items we clean.”

  So much for my brilliant question.

  “What about the disarm code?” Brad asked. “We spoke to the people you said knew the code. Have any other names come to mind? Have you shared that code with anyone else? Maybe you accidentally mentioned it spells out STAR to someone.”

  Lee blanched. “Who told you that?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “We just need to know if this is something other people might have realized and caught on to.”

  “I didn’t even realize that,” he said. “Those bastards at Moonlight picked the code. They said it was just some random numbers. It would be completely secure. Do you believe that shit? And I fell for it. I’m wondering just how secure any of this is. The night watchman, god rest his soul, didn’t even try to fight back, according to what I overhead your people saying. And the system was disarmed, but even if it wasn’t, you can see for yourself just how easy it was to break-in and rob the place. I’m surprised the rear gate isn’t made out of plastic instead of reinforced steel.” Lee continued to rant about his displeasure with Moonlight Security, vowing to call and give them a piece of his mind.

  “While you do that, do you mind if we take another look around back?” Brad asked.

  “Help yourself. That’s how I got inside.” Lee headed toward the office in the rear. “The system won’t engage since the front door’s broken, so you don’t have to worry about triggering the alarm.” He let out another huff. “I’ll probably have to sleep here tonight just to make sure none of those druggies try to break in.”

  I opened my mouth to ask more questions about his dogged suspicions, but Brad shook his head. “Don’t waste your breath,” he said. “I checked with everyone. There isn’t any dry cleaning chemical ring running amok. He’s just paranoid.”

  Twenty-one

  We didn’t find anything out back, but Fennel wasn’t willing to give up so easily. He stared at the gate which led to the double doors. “I bet this is where his precious chemicals are delivered.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So maybe he has it
wrong. The deliveries must come in this way, so that could explain how someone not directly connected to Star Cleaners happened to get the alarm code.”

  “Chambliss already asked about that, but nothing popped.”

  “Okay.” Fennel rubbed his palms together and blew out a breath. The lock on the rear door was old and scratched. It could have been picked, or it could have just been worn. “I got nothing.”

  That made two of us. “I knew this was a waste. Let’s split up and do a quick walk around. I’ll meet you at the front door.”

  Fennel followed the alley around the back of the building while I went around the corner and circled around the side. Two other shops separated the dry cleaner’s from the corner with large picture windows. But they didn’t have any outdoor security cameras, and the shops had been closed at the time of the break-in.

  “Useless,” I muttered.

  While I stood in front of Star Cleaners, waiting for my partner, I noticed my reflection in the windows. The glass had a dark tint which didn’t allow outsiders to easily see in. Instead, it reflected a mirror image of the surrounding street. At night, it might have been a little easier to see inside the store, but the best view would still require cupping your hands around your face and pressing against the window.

  “Brad,” I called the moment he turned the corner, “did CSU check the windows for prints?”

  “Why would they?” Mr. Lee asked, carefully opening the boarded-up door. “They weren’t broken and weren’t used to get inside.”

  “I don’t know, Liv.” Fennel’s brow furrowed, and he tilted his head to the side to study the nearest window. “I’m not seeing any powder residue.” He glanced at the dry cleaner. “Did you wipe the windows yet?”

  “No, I didn’t. The crew I hired spent the afternoon inside. They said they’d come back later tonight and have everything spic and span by morning.”

  I reached for my phone to find out if our team missed something while Fennel scrutinized the front windows. He crouched down. “I see smudges.”