Hot Tracks (12 page)

She followed the dark blue sedan to the main highway. When Hawkins got off at the industrial section of town, Nancy had a feeling she knew where he was going. Her heartbeat quickened and her palms began to sweat as he turned down the same dead end street where Jimmy Sandia had driven the stolen Camaro.

It was too good to be true. He was leading her right to the chop shop.

F
LICKING OFF HER LIGHTS
, Nancy just turned into the street and stopped. Hawkins's car was parked in front of R. H. Shipping—the same building where the Mustang had crashed after the run-in with the car carrier.

The area was dark and deserted, as Nancy would expect late on a Saturday night. She could see that Hawkins wasn't in his car. He must have gone into the warehouse already. That confirmed her suspicions—only someone working with the auto theft ring would have a key to get in. He certainly wasn't on official police business—Nancy had heard him say his shift was over when he left the track.

Scanning the front of the warehouse, she saw that there were no windows and only one
entrance except for a garage door, which was closed.

Nancy knew she should call Detective Quinones right away and let him handle things from now on. First, though, she just wanted to check inside Hawkins's car. There was always a chance that he had been careless and left some clue.

Moving as quietly as possible, she crept up to the detective's car. When she peeked in, she could see Hawkins's leather jacket hanging over the back of the seat.

She pressed the door handle and was surprised to find it unlocked. Why would he be so careless? she wondered. Unless it was on purpose. Maybe he knew she'd been tailing him, and this was a trap.

There was only one way to find out. Carefully, Nancy squeezed through the open door and sat in the driver's seat. She decided to start with the leather jacket. Searching the pockets, she found a wad of lint and some gum wrappers.

“What's this?” Nancy murmured, noticing a white strip of paper mixed in with the wrappers. It had been torn in half, but she clearly recognized it—it was a strip of evidence tape!

Nancy pulled her flashlight from her purse and shined it on the torn tape. Hawkins was printed on it, along with a date, which had been two days earlier, she realized. The night of the stakeout at the Scene.

This had to be the tape used to tag the bag
with the slim jim in it! So Hawkins was the person who opened the evidence bag, wiped the prints off the slim jim, then rebagged it using new tape to seal the top. He'd probably been in a hurry and stuck the scrap from the old evidence tape in his jacket pocket.

Nancy shuddered. B. D. Hawkins was definitely the bad cop—and quite possibly Jimmy Sandia's murderer!

Trying to ignore the prickly feeling at the back of her neck, Nancy slipped the tape into her purse. Then she stuffed the wrappers back in Hawkins's jacket and rearranged it on the seat. After creeping out of the car, she ran back to the Mustang and started it. She had to get out of there—fast. A deserted street in the middle of the night was the last place she wanted to meet B. D. Hawkins.

On the drive home Nancy kept checking her rearview mirror. No one was tailing her. Only when she was safely inside her house did she breathe a sigh of relief. As she leaned against the front door, her gaze fell on a note from Hannah that was sitting on the front table. It read, “Call Detective Quinones at home.”

Nancy took the steps up to her room two at a time and dialed his number on her phone. He answered on the first ring.

“Where have you been?” he asked after Nancy identified herself. “I've been calling every half-hour since I got your message. Your housekeeper was tired of being waked up.”

“I've been tailing Detective Hawkins,” Nancy explained. She went on to tell him about Kitty's reaction to seeing Powderly and Hawkins that afternoon, and about following Hawkins to the chop shop.

After a long pause Detective Quinones asked, “You're
sure
it was the chop shop?”

“Not positive,” Nancy admitted, “but I know it was Hawkins's car. It had his jacket in it, and when I searched his pockets I found—”

Suddenly Nancy hesitated. Maybe she shouldn't mention the evidence tape. She'd let Quinones identify it himself. Then he could decide if it implicated Hawkins or not. “I found something I want you to see.”

“Well, it'll have to wait till morning,” Detective Quinones said. “Homicide just called with something I have to check on right away. I'll meet you at the station tomorrow morning at eight-thirty.”

“All right,” Nancy agreed. “See you then.”

• • •

“I'm exhausted,” Bess said when Nancy picked her up at home. “I didn't get to bed last night until after one.”

Nancy smiled at her friend. “I'm kind of beat, too.”

“Oh—Dirk asked if we could pick him up on our way,” Bess added. “I told him about Hawkins following us, and he said he wants to come to the police station, too,” Bess told Nancy. “He said something about finding the creeps that did in the Big D.”

“I guess that means Dirk's feeling better,” Nancy said with a laugh.

“He's really upset about his car, though,” Bess said. She let out a sigh. “I can't help thinking about the Camaro, too. I know it's probably in a million pieces by now, but I keep hoping we'll find it.”

Dirk was waiting on the porch when the girls arrived at his house. He was sitting on the steps, the protective collar still around his neck.

“How are you?” Nancy asked him.

“Great,” he replied. “I don't feel any pain, but the doctor told me to leave this on for a few days just to be safe.”

Fifteen minutes later the three teenagers entered the auto theft office at the police station. Stan Powderly was there and greeted them with a tired smile. His suit was rumpled, and two half-empty containers of coffee were on his desk.

“Change of plans. Raul called about half an hour ago,” he said, getting up to close the outside door. “We don't need anyone overhearing this,” he added in a low voice.

“Where's Detective Quinones?” Nancy asked, as she, Bess, and Dirk sat down. She was instantly alert. She didn't like the idea that he wasn't there. She also didn't want to tell Powderly about the evidence tape before showing it to Quinones.

Powderly was grim. “Raul's still over at the garage at the racetrack. Early this morning,
homicide called him. Seems they found something that—” He paused, a frown of uncertainty on his face. “I guess I can tell you this,” he finally said. “Raul confided in me that you were working on the case, Nancy. Anyway, they found something that definitely implicates Detective Hawkins in the murder of Jimmy Sandia.”

Bess drew in her breath sharply. “So we were right!” she exclaimed softly.

“What did they find?” Nancy asked.

“Homicide found a partial boot print in the dirt near the tractor where Jimmy was murdered. They matched it to Hawk's cowboy boot.”

“What does that prove?” Dirk wanted to know. “I mean, Hawkins
is
part of the investigating team. It makes sense that his print would be there.”

Nancy snapped her fingers. “But he didn't show up until
after
the homicide people had sealed off the scene,” she said, remembering. “By then Detective Quinones had everyone stay clear so that they wouldn't mess up evidence.”

“Wow!” Bess exclaimed.

“Yeah, wow,” Stan echoed dryly. “And all this time I thought B.D. was working
with
us.”

“So why would Hawkins murder Jimmy Sandia?” Nancy asked. She still didn't want Powderly to know how much she'd already learned.

Stan gave a tired sigh, shaking his head.
“Raul told me this morning that someone on the force is working with the auto thieves,” he explained. “Right away I thought of Hawk. He hasn't been himself lately—as if he's not part of the team anymore. Plus he's so cocky. I bet he thinks he can do it all—even break the law—and not get caught.”

So Detective Quinones had finally confided in Powderly, Nancy thought. The boot print must have made him certain that the bad cop was Hawkins.

“What are you and Detective Quinones going to do now?” Bess asked, twisting a strand of blond hair between her fingers.

“Well, we've cooked up a plan to catch Hawkins in action,” Powderly replied. He fixed each of the teenagers with a serious look, then said, “And you three are going to be part of it.”

“Great!” Dirk sat up, excited. “Does it involve some fast driving?”

Shooting Dirk a stern glance, Bess said, “Hey! You just got out of the hospital, remember?”

“It's nothing that exciting,” Detective Powderly said quickly. “Nancy, your job will be to call Hawkins and tell him you've located the warehouse. Tell him you can't find Raul or me, and ask him to meet you there.”

“Where? I mean, we don't know exactly which warehouse it is,” Nancy said.

The detective gave a small smile. “I had the uniformed cops keep an eye on the street
where you and Bess followed Jimmy Sandia. They've reported some unusual activity that narrows it down to R. H. Shipping.”

“That makes sense,” Bess commented. “That's where those goons were on the loading dock.”

Nancy nodded. So far the plan sounded solid.

“Nancy, you can tell Hawkins that Kitty Lambert told you R. H. Shipping is where Jimmy took the stolen cars,” Powderly continued. “That should convince him to meet you there.”

“Sounds good,” said Nancy. “What should we do when we get there?”

Detective Powderly picked up a small tape recorder from his desk and handed it to her. “First of all you'll be carrying this. You need to get Hawk to confess to something incriminating. Raul and I figured he'd tell you more than he'd ever confess to us. So play it by ear. Raul and I and several other plainclothes officers will be hiding nearby, so there's nothing to worry about.”

“Wow. Cops and robbers,” Dirk put in excitedly. “Sounds good to me.”

“Me, too,” Bess said. “I can't wait to see Hawkins and his chop shop buddies get caught. This'll show him that nobody steals my car and gets away with it.”

Stan laughed. “Leave the rough stuff to the police, Ms. Marvin. You just need to get Hawk to confess something that will lead us to the
others. As far as he goes, the boot print and scrap of evidence tape will put him away for a
long
time.”

Nancy frowned as the detective's words sank in, reverberating in her mind.

Evidence tape. She hadn't told
anyone
about the tape. There was only one way Detective Powderly could know about it. And that was if
he'd
been the one to take the tape off the evidence bag and plant the tape in B.D.'s car. The bad cop on the force wasn't B. D. Hawkins—it was Stan Powderly!

N
ANCY'S MIND
began to whirl. She never would have believed that Stan Powderly could be so devious. He had set up Hawkins to take the fall for everything—including murder.

Thinking back to the night before, Nancy realized that it was possible that Powderly, and not Hawkins, had been behind the wheel of Hawkins's car. If that was true, maybe Powderly knew that she followed him—right to the warehouse.

Maybe that was why it had been so easy to get into the car. Stan had
wanted
her to find the evidence tape, figuring that she'd report it to Quinones. But what about the boot print homicide had found in the garage? Had Powderly planted that, too?

Suddenly Nancy felt as if a huge weight were pressing down on her shoulders. Powderly was setting them
all
up now, with his warehouse plan—she knew it. One wrong move could put them all in jeopardy. The only thing on their side was the fact that Stan didn't know she was onto him.