Follow the Evidence (A Mac Everett Mystery Book 2) (27 page)

“That’s why I need you three to
stand by with these,” I said. I took four cheap walkie-talkies out of a
Wal-Mart bag. I rummaged in the bottom of the bag for a couple packages of
batteries. I grabbed them and handed them to Marco.

“Here,” I said. “I did a little
shopping on the way home. Put the batteries in these things for me will ya?”

Marco started opening the packages
and Roscoe started inserting the batteries.

“If we’re a block away how are we
going to help you?” Roscoe asked.

“We went over this,” I said firmly.
“I’ve got the PI license and I’m taking the risk. If it’s just an abandoned
building there’s no sense all four of us taking the fall for burglary and
trespass. If I find something or get into trouble, you can tell the cops more
than I will if somebody is taking potshots at me.”

“But Mac...”

“Roscoe, will you stuff it,” Marco
said. “Stop complaining.”

“I just...”

“You just want to find Lia,” I
said. “I understand, but I couldn’t live with myself if any of you got hurt.”

“Roscoe, it’s a pretty good plan,”
Ben said. “Mac is gonna snoop around. If he finds anything we won’t be far.”

“It’s just…”

“Trust me on this one, will ya’?” I
said.

“All right,” Roscoe said.

“One of my guys called back,” Marco
said. “He wasn’t happy about the middle of the night call.”

“Did he have anything on this
place?” I asked.

“He said there are six abandoned
stores. The place has been empty about three years,” Marco said. “You have one
break though.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“There’s a service chase-a hallway
that connects the stores,” Marco said. “It’s narrow, but it runs the length of
the building. One of my ‘friends’ paid a group of kids to rip out the copper
pipes.”

Ben looked confused. “Why would
they…”

“They sold it for scrap,” Marco
said. Turning back to me he continued, “If you get into that hallway you can
access the whole place. The kids kicked in the connecting doors so you should
have an easy time.”

“Good,” I said. If the place is
empty, it should go quick. I’ll start from the south end. Randi’s office is in
the middle next to the space that housed the Living Water Tabernacle. You guys
stay close and watch. Let me know if you see any activity outside.”

I’d assigned my three accomplices
to three sides of the long narrow building. Overgrown fields visible on the
Google earth photos surrounded the place. Roscoe and Marco would have to sit in
the brush to see the back and sides of the building. I assigned Ben to an
abandoned gas station on the opposite side of Orange Blossom Trail. He could
watch the front and still be out of sight. I hoped no one would notice him
sitting in my old Honda.

“OK,” I said. “Has everyone got the
program?”

They all nodded.

Purpose is energizing. Despite it
being three-fifteen, we were pumped. It would be hard for Roscoe, Ben and Marco
to stay alert sitting alone in the dark.

We tested the walkie-talkies and I
gave each guy an earphone and plugged in my own.

“Grab your coffee and let’s get
going,” I said.

I checked my Beretta 92FS, the
updated version of the piece I carried in Iraq. It felt familiar, almost comforting
in my hand. I slipped two extra magazines into each of my back pockets. I put
six more twenty round magazines in my tactical bag along with some night vision
goggles and a flashlight. Finally, I slipped my Bersa Thunder out of the ankle
holster, checked the action, and put the compact backup weapon back in the
holster. I don’t usually go around armed, but tonight was different. I’d be
cautious, but if I had a chance, I’d get some payback.

“I guess that’s it,” I said. “Any
questions?”

“You sure we can’t have some heat?”
Roscoe asked.

“We went over that,” I said. “I’m
licensed and you three aren’t.”

“But I have a concealed carry
license,” Roscoe protested.

“And you haven’t fired a weapon in,
what, twelve years,” I replied. “You were a crappy shot when you were
in
the army.”

He tried to protest but I cut him
off with my raised hand.

“Keep your eyes open,” I continued.
“You won’t need more than that and your cell phone. If you see something call
911,” I said.

“But, Mac,” Roscoe insisted.

“I don’t know what I’ll find.
Covering your ass while I’m searching the place could get us both killed.”

“I get it,” Roscoe said. I’m too
old, too worthless…”

“Roscoe,” Ben said, “he should take
me since it looks like I’m smarter than you are.”

“What? Why you old coot,” Roscoe
shouted. “I’m gunna turn your lights out.”

He came at Ben with two balled up
fists.

“Can’t you see he’s just trying to
keep you from getting your sorry ass shot off?” Ben said.

You’re too personally involved, to
wound up,” Marco added. “You’re not thinking straight.”

He opened his mouth to say
something more, but the words wouldn’t come. He stood there looking like a
guppy gulping air. Finally, he stomped off down the stairs. He wasn’t satisfied,
but he wouldn’t bitch any more.

It was a bleak moonless November
night. The world seemed still, almost absent. Even I-4 was deserted. It took
about thirty minutes to drive to the abandoned building. Ben followed me into
the boarded up gas station across Orange Blossom Trail from our objective. I
backed the Camaro between the building and a shed where it was out of sight.

I got in the front seat of the
Honda and said, “This is your spot,” I said to Ben. “You can park under the
shadow of the canopy. You’ll have a clear view of the lot from there. There are
binoculars in the glove box.”

“Got it,” he replied.

“Kill your lights and let’s get
going,” I said.

Ben turned off the headlights as he
pulled out of the gas station. He drove slowly, so we could look the place
over. “See the sign?” I said. The Living Water Tabernacle sign hung from the
building’s crumbling facia. The building was a wreck.

“Randi’s office is in there?”
Roscoe asked.

“Yep,” I said.

“Where do we start?” Ben asked.

“We’ll drop Roscoe at the north
end. Roscoe, find a spot with good covert where you can watch the back. Marco,
you’ll be at the south end. I’ll drop off with you and get you settled. Any
questions?”

“Let’s get this done,” Roscoe said.

As Ben approached Roscoe’s drop off
point, my Army buddy pulled on a frayed booney hat, reached over the seat, and
slapped me on the shoulder.

“Everybody be careful,” he said.

Ben eased off the gas, slowing as
much as possible without hitting the brakes. Roscoe stepped out of the car and
disappeared into the darkness. Ben idled down shoulder without touching the
gas. As we approached the opposite end of the building, he made a lazy turn.
Marco made sure his walkie-talkie was secure then opened the back door and
stepped out of the car. I jumped out of the front seat and followed him. Ben
picked up speed and disappeared in the direction of the gas station.

I went down on one knee and scanned
the field. Nothing moved. The only sound was the singing of the cicadas. I
found Marco waiting for me in the tall weeds. In the pitch darkness I almost
walked by him.

“Goin’ somewhere mister,” he said
in a hushed voice as he stood. “Are you sure I can’t hold a gun?” he said.

“Not you too,” I replied. Pointing
to a group of low trees to our right, I said, “That looks like a good spot for
you.”

We walked through the brush to a
spot where he could see behind the building, its south end, and even a sector
of the parking lot. The location had good concealment behind a low copse of
scrubby Mimosa trees.

As Marco settled against his tree,
I heard Roscoe on the radio.

“Mac, you there-over,” he said.

“Gotcha, what’s your situation?” I
asked.

“I’m in position,” he replied.
“There’s no movement and no light showing in the building.”

“I’m set too,” Ben added.

I tapped my ear and said to Marco,
“Put in your earphone.” I went down on one knee again and scanned the field,
the parking lot, and the building. “This looks good. The trees give you good
cover. Keep your eyes and ears open.”

“OK, Mac,” he said, “whatever you
say.”

“What’s the matter?” I asked.

He swallowed hard and said,
“Nothing, nothing at all.”

“You’ll be all right,” I said. “Sit
tight and let me know if you see anything.”

He nodded, but his eyes were as big
as saucers. I patted him on the shoulder and headed toward the back of the
building. I pulled a small flashlight and a pair of night vision goggles out of
my tactical bag. I slipped the flashlight in my front pants pocket. I pulled he
goggles over my eyes and world turned brilliant green. They were cheap surplus
stuff made in Eastern Europe, but they were just what I needed tonight.

“Mac,” Roscoe said over the radio.
“This place sure looks abandoned.”

Duh, Sherlock. You think?
I
didn’t bother answering him.

“I’m going in,” I said on the
radio. As I headed toward uncertainty, I looked at my watch. It was three
forty-five AM. I had three hours to clear a half dozen abandoned stores and
find Lia.

I sprinted to the building and
stopped, my back against the wall straining to hear anything out of the ordinary.
Nothing. I glanced at the graffiti covered door. The lock was missing, but it
was wedged shut. I put two fingers in the hole where the lock should have been
and tugged it opened. As the odor of dust and mildew rolled over me, I stifled
a cough. I took a quick peek inside, but there was nothing to see. I drew my
Beretta, flipped off the safety, and stepped inside.

Junk, cobwebs, and debris were
everywhere. I was in the narrow passageway Marco had described. It stretched to
my right and disappeared into the dark distance like a tunnel. In front of me
was door.
Well, here, goes.
It stood half-open so I eased it open the
rest of the way. It creaked. I waited for a reaction or a sound. Nothing. I
peered around the door jamb. Overhead the drop ceiling’s frame dangled overhead
like dozens of stunted arms. Boxes and trash littered the floor. An old sign
that read ‘OBT Payday Loans’ leaned against the far wall. Critters scurried
away about the debris making rustling sounds.

“First place is clear,” I said into
the radio. I heard first one, then another, then a third click on the radio. My
over watch crew was being careful.

I continued to another room. Again,
there was nothing but cobwebs, rats, and trash. I’d begun think I’d screwed up.
The third door had a new knob on a hollow core door. I used my knife to force
the cheap lock, and slipped inside.
Randi’s office
, I thought to myself.
The rear was as trashed like the other abandoned storerooms. Unlike the others
though, this one had a partition wall with a single door.
I’d seen Randi
come through that door.
I went to it, listened, and opened it. There were
stacks of boxes, some file cabinets, and a couple desks, all as I’d seen a few
days ago. I went to a file cabinet and opened the top drawer. It was empty and
so were all the other ones. The place was a sham.
What are you doing Randi?

I backed out and went to the fourth
storeroom. The first two places were standing open. Randi’s was locked, but the
hardware was flimsy and cheap. Here, there was new deadbolt and a steel clad
door. I decided to check out the other doors down the line.

I pulled out my radio and said,
“There’s something up with the fourth door,” I said. “I’m going to check out
the rest of them.”

The next two doors had new locks
and doors too. The deadbolts were commercial grade, but I could open them, no
problem. I fished my pick gun out of the tactical bag and went to work. I
inserted the two prongs into the lock and pulled the trigger three times. As
the gun’s hardened steel needles struck the lock’s pins they aligning them to
the unlocked position. A quick turn of the tool and the lock was open. I’d
opened it in less than thirty seconds.
I haven’t lost my touch.

With my Beretta tucked close to my
side, I eased the door open with my left hand and froze. I’d walked into a
hornet’s nest. There were two guys asleep in the room.
Two off duty means
maybe two more on duty.

The room was black so the sleeping
beauties wouldn’t see me. With the night vision, I had no trouble spotting the
door to the next room. I picked my way through the snoring men. If I could get
through the dorm undetected, I had a chance. I made it to the door, put my ear
to the rough wood, and listened.

“…I don’t care. It’s dangerous to
keep them here. What if the cops come,” the first voice was saying. “He needs
to send them to…”

“Why don’t you tell the boss
you
know his business better than he does,” a second voice interrupted.

“You know what I mean,” the first
voice said.

“Yeah, I do. You mean to get us
killed,” the second voice replied.

“At least that crazy bitch has gone
to sleep,” the first voice muttered. “I hate it when she firs off orders.”

“Shut up, will you? Let’s go check
on the merchandise.” The second voice faded. I heard scraping chairs,
footfalls, and then nothing.

I looked over my shoulder. Neither
of the men sleeping behind me had moved. I opened the door and stepped into a
small, dimly lit room. The two men were gone, but their lantern, and coffee
cups on the table to my right told me they’d be back. To my left two old desks
were pushed together to form a makeshift kitchen. There was a camp stove and an
assortment of pots and pans. A small refrigerator hummed next to the desks. I
made a beeline for the desks and slipped behind them as the two guys returned.
Neither one of them was very big, but they were both packing. One shot from
either of them and I have the two from the bunkhouse in the next room on my
neck too.