Malevolent (Lieutenant Kane series Book 1) (18 page)

I clicked the button to print off the sheet with his information.

I let out a breath. “This just seems fishy.”

“What seems fishy?”

“The guy in the box. He brought the case to us on a silver platter. It’s too perfect. When was the last time someone walked in with a case gift wrapped?”

Hank shrugged. “Never.”

I nodded. “Exactly. I’m not sold on the dying-husband love story, either. Let’s go run it by the captain and see what he thinks.”

“Works for me,” Hank said.

We went next door to Bostok’s office. I gave the captain’s door a knock and walked in.

He gave us his attention. “Well?”

I gave it to him in short bursts. “The guy has a video and a story. Video is from the warehouse of Pet Med Plus. It shows a guy named Chad Packard putting drugs from a bin in question into a bag and then leaving. Claims that Packard quit to start a taxi business.”

“Do we know that for sure?”

“I checked DMV records—just a minivan under his name. The cab could be registered through a business, though,” I said.

I handed the captain the memory card with the video. “This is the video here.”

“Why does he have the theft on video? Did he work security there or something?”

“His plan was to blackmail the guy,” Hank said.

The captain shook his head. “Because that’s always a good idea. What do you think, Kane?”

“Too perfect, and I don’t get a good feeling from the guy.”

“Explain.”

“I think he might be full of shit, but in case he isn’t, we need to get the warrants for this Packard set and get out there. The place is just a couple minutes away.”

“I’ll get tech to make us some copies of this and get on the phone for the warrants. What do you want to do about the star witness?” Captain Bostok asked.

I thought for a second. Something about Cross was really rubbing me the wrong way. The more I thought about him, the more other things started bothering me. He hadn’t come forward with the information on his own. The case was everywhere. You couldn’t miss it, no matter how hard you tried. The fact that he planned on blackmailing a coworker spoke about his character. He worked at the place the drugs came from. This guy could have just been trying to steer us in the wrong direction. However, we wouldn’t be able to hold him just because I had a feeling.

“I’d like to put Donner on him if that’s okay. Just a gut feeling.”

The captain nodded. Hank and I left his office.

I called Donner.

We got word on the warrants within twenty minutes. The video had persuaded the powers that be to sign off on an arrest and a search warrant. We put the wheels in motion. Timmons sent out a page to the members of our SWAT team out on patrol. The address was just outside the city but still within the TPD’s jurisdiction. It was a ten-minute drive from the station. We wouldn’t need to contact any local departments.

We assembled in the station’s parking structure. The SWAT guys dressed in their gear. We had six SWAT members plus Jones, Hank, and me. We put on our lapel mics and ear radios. Each of us put on body armor and snugged the straps tight. We didn’t know who we were dealing with, and our protocol was to be prepared for the worst possible situation.

SWAT would take three cars, and Hank and I would take an unmarked cruiser. Jones would drive himself in another.

Sergeant Collison was our SWAT-team lead. He was in his forties and just a touch smaller than me. Short gray hair covered his head. He sported a goatee manicured to perfection. It looked fake. He spread a map out on the trunk of our unmarked cruiser and laid out the plan. We’d park at the east corner and approach the residence. The neighboring house would give us cover until we were right upon the property in question. His team would take the lead and get the door. Hank, Jones, and I were to follow when they had cleared the room—simple but effective. We left the station.

The lights flashed, and sirens wailed as we drove through the city. Four blocks away, we went silent and killed the red-and-blues. The neighborhood was middle class. Single-story bungalows built in the forties lined the sides of the street. Big oaks and palm trees filled the yards. We pulled up where Collison had instructed and killed the motor.

Collison went around and performed a mic check. His men took their weapons from their cars. He instructed one of his men to bring the door ram. I drew the Glock 22 from my shoulder holster. Hank and Jones did the same. We took up the rear and stayed low as we followed SWAT around the tree line toward the house.

Collison stopped and looked back. “We got a taxi—Crown Vic,” he said.

I saw the yellow of the cab parked in the driveway. It was the same make and model from the airport videos. Our witness might have been telling the truth after all. The tension rose. We stayed single file as we approached the house, a brown single story with a white fence around its small front porch. Outside the porch was a four-foot pygmy palm and flower garden. The yellow taxi cab and a minivan sat parked in the driveway. A neighbor across the street and one house up stopped watering her flowers in the front yard to watch us. Collison and three members of the SWAT team climbed the steps up to the porch. They took the sides of the front door. The other two went to the back of the house. Hank, Jones, and I stayed at ground level.

Collison looked at us. “Ready?”

I gave him a nod.

Collison banged his fist on the door. “Search warrant, Tampa Police!” He looked at his men ready at the door with the ram. The front door opened before they could break it in. I saw a kid standing at the doorway. Collison grabbed the boy and pulled him outside. The other three officers went in, one after the other. The sound of a dog barking echoed from inside the house. We heard Collison’s men yelling for someone to get on the floor. In just a matter of seconds, the
all clear
call came through our earpieces. We climbed the front steps and entered the house. Collison sat the boy down on the living-room couch.

We proceeded through the living room and found everyone in the kitchen. A man and woman were facedown on the tile floor. Black zip-tie handcuffs held their arms behind their backs. The man demanded an explanation. The woman cried out for her son in the next room.

I walked over and knelt next to the man’s head. “Are you Chad Packard?”

“Yeah, what the hell is this?”

I pulled the warrants from my pocket of my shirt and showed it to him. “We have a warrant to search the property and a warrant for your arrest.”

“For what? I didn’t do anything.”

“The theft of narcotics.”

“I didn’t steal any narcotics.”

I read him his rights and lifted him to his feet.

As I pulled him up, he grunted then looked at his wife, still on the ground. “Deb, I didn’t do anything.”

Hank and I escorted him out of the house and over to the back of my unmarked cruiser. I pushed down on the top of his head and sat him down inside.

I looked at Hank. “Can you sit on him for a second? I have to go talk to Jones.”

“Yeah, I got him.”

I walked back to the house. Jones stood on the front porch.

“You want to run the search on the house? Try to hunt down the drugs, but keep an eye out for anything that looks suspicious. Find me something on lobotomies. Search every tool in that garage. If you spot anything, stop and wait for forensics.”

He nodded. “I got it.”

“We’re going to take him back to the station and get started.”

“I’ll give you a call as soon as I’m through. What should I tell the wife?”

“Let her know where we’re taking him.”

“No problem.”

I thanked Collison and the team and made my way back to the car.

Mr. Packard demanded an explanation from the backseat on the ride back to the station. He pleaded his innocence.

I tried to tune him out. We’d find out soon enough.

We brought him into the station and parked him in the first interrogation box. Hank headed into the observation room to watch him, and I went to tell the captain we had him in the building. I saw the major sitting across from Captain Bostok in his office through the window. I gave the door a knock and stuck my head in.

“No incidents. I have him in the box. Jones is searching the house.”

The captain waved me in. “Come in.”

I did and closed the door.

“What did you see at the house? Were there any signs that this could be the guy?”

“I was only inside for a minute. Jones is running the search.”

“Tell me how it went.”

I ran through it for the captain and Major Danes.

“They will toss the drug charges if we don’t come up with something at the house,” the major said.

“The hell with the drugs—I’m looking for a confession to multiple murders.”

“Get the drugs first and then move into it.” The captain pointed at a DVD on his desk. “Keller in tech burned the video footage to something we could play up here. Question the theft, and when he denies it, play the footage. See what we get out of him.”

We walked toward the interrogation rooms. I hit the lunch room for the standard can of soda and candy bar. We discussed how we wanted to proceed with the questioning before I went inside the box. Captain Bostok and Major Danes entered the observation room with Hank. Prepared to question the suspect solo, at first, I walked into the interrogation room.

I took a seat and placed the candy bar and soda in front of him. Worry covered his face. He stared at the food, at me and then the floor. He sat upright, with his elbows on the table.

“Mr. Packard, can I call you Chad?”

He nodded and let out a breath in anger.

“Chad, I’m Lieutenant Carl Kane. I’d like to ask you a few questions and get your side of the story about this theft. I would like you to be able to speak with me freely, and if you request legal counsel, you might not be able to do that. Now, I have already read you your legal warning at your house. Would you like an attorney?”

He looked up and shook his head. “I don’t need a lawyer. I didn’t steal any drugs. None of this makes sense.”

“I also need to inform you that this interview is being recorded. Now, I’m going to give you a chance to be honest with me. If you have anything to tell me, now is the time.”

He put both hands on his head and let them fall to his sides. “I have no idea what the hell is going on here.”

“Okay Chad, first, does the taxi at your house belong to you?”

“The cab? Yeah, I started a taxi service a few months back. Why?”

“Prior to that, you worked at Pet Med Plus as a driver?”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Tell me about your time there.”

He rolled his eyes. “What is this? Why do you want to know about this?”

“I’ll connect the dots in a second for you. Now, Pet Med Plus, tell me about it.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to tell you. It was a job. I worked there for a couple years until I had enough money saved up to open my cab service.”

“Okay Chad, now about your taxi service, do you work the airport area?”

“I work all over the city. You said this was about drugs. Why the hell do you care what I do for a living? The SWAT team busts into my house on a bogus drug warrant while my family is eating dinner, and now you want to talk about my taxi business? This is bullshit.”

I held my hand up in an attempt to calm him down. “We’re going to need some information, Chad. Now, you said you work the airport area, did you happen to pick up any women there this week?”

“I’m sure I did. Monday through Thursday, I work ten-hour shifts—eleven a.m. to nine p.m. I’ve had over a hundred fares this week.”

“And you never work late or on Fridays?”

He shook his head. “Not if I can help it. I stop taking fares at eight thirty p.m. on the weekdays so I can get home in time to put my boy to sleep. I don’t work Fridays so we can have a family dinner together. That was what we were doing when you busted in.”

I wasn’t quite ready to buy his Father of the Year story. “Mr. Packard, did you work with a Bob Cross?”

“Bob Cross? Yeah, I worked with him.”

“What was your relationship with him?”

“He was another driver. I wasn’t friends with him. He seemed sketchy.”

“Sketchy how?”

“He was weird. I wasn’t a fan—put it that way.”

“Chad, he was here earlier and had some interesting things to say about you.”

He jerked his head back. “Like what?”

“Well, we’ll get to that. First, what can you tell me about Xylazine, Buprenorphine, and Alprazolam?”

He shook his head. “They were things I delivered when I worked at the warehouse. Why? Are they important or something?”

“Is that your extent of knowledge about the drugs?”

“Yeah.” He put his hands in the air and let them fall to the table. “Come on, man. What is this? Why am I here?”

His level of anger was increasing. I decided to give him a couple minutes to cool off.

I pretended to check something on my cell phone. “Excuse me for a second. I’ll be right back.”

I walked out and over to the observation room. Hank, Captain Bostok, and Major Danes sat inside. I stood before them and leaned my back against the wall. “Any word back from Jones yet?”

“Haven’t got word,” the captain said.

“How does he look from in here?” I asked.

“Pissed,” Hank said.

“Run the DVD footage and see what he says,” the major said.

I nodded. “Where’s the DVD?”

“It’s loaded in the player.” Hank pointed to the rolling cart that held the television and DVD player.

I rolled it from the observation room back over to the box. Hank held the door open, and I wheeled it in. Packard looked at me. A confused expression covered his face.

I plugged everything in, grabbed the remote, and took a seat. “Chad, I’m going to play something here, and afterward, we’ll talk about it.”

I clicked Play. The video began to roll. I didn’t watch the screen. I stared at him, looking for a sign, anything that would tell me he knew what he was looking at. It took a few seconds, but then his facial expression changed. It was recognition. I had him.