Flashover Pt. 08

"No problem. It's right out here."

Harvey led them out of his office, picking up a set of keys from Peg, before escorting them across the lot. The lot was at least twice as big as Maggie's yard, surrounded by an eight-foot chain-link fence topped with three strands of barbed wire. The lot was covered in oil-soaked gravel and filled with scrap metal, a couple of large dozers, dump trucks, two heavy-haul trucks with flatbed trailers attached, a fleet of skid-steers, and a pair of large excavators, one with a wicked looking pincer on the end, the other sporting a giant jack hammer.

"Here it is," Harvey said, stopping by a dusty white Chevy.

He opened the driver's door and stepped back to allow Sean to look inside. It looked like a typical construction truck... filthy. It was full of papers, empty coffee cups, and other assorted trash. Outside it wasn't much better. It was covered in a thick clinging dust that dulled it to almost grey. Sean picked at one of the signs on the doors, peeling back the corner before letting it go.

"I thought those were painted on," he said with a smile. "So, nobody drives this truck?"

"No, not since Dennis left, and not until I hire someone to replace him. Each foreman has their own truck." Harvey frowned. "I don't even know if the damn thing will start."

Harvey slid into the driver's seat, stuck the key in the ignition, and gave it a twist. The truck chattered but didn't turn over. He grinned at Sean. He stepped out and slammed the door. "Nobody's driving that until I put a new battery in it."

Sean walked around the truck. It had the correct plate. He continued around to the other side. He tucked his fingernail behind the door sticker and pulled it away from the truck. The paint behind it was much shinier than the rest. He let the corner go and the magnetic backing sucked it back to the door.

"I think that does it," he said, looking the truck over one more time. "It has the right plate, but I'm thinking now the guard must have gotten the numbers jumbled up."

"Anything else you want to see while you're here?"

Sean grinned. "No. Do you mind if I take a picture of those excavators? My kid, he loves that kind of stuff."

Harvey waved at them. "Not at all. Every kid does."

Sean pulled his phone out and pointed it at the excavator, but made sure Harvey was fully in the frame. As he'd circled the truck, he'd noticed fingerprints on the driver's door and the hood. The driver's door was easy to explain away. Perhaps someone needed to retrieve something from the inside, but the hood? That was another matter. It appeared someone had raised the hood on the truck recently, perhaps to boost the truck so it could be driven.

"What's that scissor looking thing on the end called?" Sean asked, causing Harvey to turn. He snapped the picture as soon as Harvey faced him.

"A shear jaw. That thing closes with a force of over seven hundred tons." He grinned. "You don't want your finger in there."

Sean chuckled. "No, I guess not."

He took another photo of the excavators, then a couple more of the bulldozers, selling the idea he wanted pictures of the equipment and not Harvey. "Thanks. He'll get a big kick out of me having these on my phone."

"How old is he?" Harvey asked as they walked back to his office.

"Six. His name is Paul."

Harvey grinned. "Bring him around sometime. I'll start the big Cat up and we'll drive it around on the yard."

Despite himself, Sean chuckled. If he'd had a six-year-old son instead of an almost twenty-year-old daughter, he might take Juno up on his offer. "Maybe I'll do that. I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"No trouble at all, chief. I'm always glad to help out the police," Harvey said as they paused in front of the office.

Sean shook Harvey's hand then turned to Neil as Harvey went back inside. "Thanks for taking the time."

"Get what you needed?"

"Yeah, I think I did."

Neil looked at him, perhaps detecting something in his voice, but then gave him a curt nod. "Let us know if you need anything else."

"Thanks, I will."

Sean was out of radio range, so he called the station on his cell as he drove back to Brunswick. "Brunswick Police Department, how may I help you?" Kim asked.

"Kim, it's Sean. Do me a favor. Call the Faulkner PD and get a list of all the places where their homeless tend to congregate."

"Okay. Want me to call you back with the information?"

"No, that's okay. I'm on my way back to the station. I'll get it when I get there."

"Do I even want to know what this is for?"

"I'm looking for someone, Ricky Cowler. He's the homeless guy who set the fires. I should have charged him, so I'd know where to find him."

She snickered. "Okay, I'll call them and get the information."

"Thanks, Kim. Any luck on the interviews?"

"They're all setup for Wednesday and Thursday."

"Okay, thanks for doing that for me."

"It's what we're... got to go. I have a 9-1-1," she said, then was gone.

Sean walked into the shelter and stopped at the desk just inside the door. "I'm looking for Ricky Cowler. He goes by Clicks. Is he here?"

He'd just spent an hour cruising around the fast-food areas, gas stations and the Walmart, the three areas the Faulkner PD suggested he look. When he didn't find Ricky there, he was finishing up by checking the two shelters that provided beds for those in need. This was the larger of the two and his first stop. The doe eyed, tattooed and pierced girl watched him a moment, her jaws working on a stick of gum. She was anorexic thin, wearing a black shirt and pants that clung to her like a second skin, and had hair a color of blue never seen in nature.

"Have a warrant?"

"Do I need one?"

"You do if you want to come in here and bother our residents."

"Okay. We can do this the hard way if you want, but all I want to do is to ask him a question. He's not in trouble and I'm not here to arrest him."

"Sorry."

Sean sighed heavily, playing it for all it was worth. "Okay. I'll get a warrant. I guess since we're going through the trouble, we might as well bring the drug dog in here too. Thank you for your time." He turned to leave.

"Wait! Just wait a minute," the woman said, glaring at him with hard eyes. "You're not here to bust him?"

"No. I want him to look at some pictures." He flapped the four printed photos he held. "After that, I'll be on my way."

She held out her hand. "Let me see."

He handed the papers over, and she quickly shuffled through them and then met his eyes before handing the papers back. "Wait here. Let me see if he's here." She left and returned a short time later with Clicks in tow. When Clicks saw him he began to balk, his jerks and twitches starting. "He said he just wants you to look at some pictures," Red said.

"What d-d-d-do you want?" Clicks asked. "I did what you said. I'm not in B-B-Brunswick anymore. Why d-do you keep hassling me?"

"I need you to look at these four pictures and tell me if the man you spoke to is one of them. After this I won't bother you anymore."

"That's what you said the l-last time."

"Would you rather I have the Faulkner PD pick you up for questioning?" Blue glared at him but he ignored her. He spread the four photos on the desk. "Recognize any of these guys?" When Clicks didn't make any move to look at the photos Sean shrugged. "Okay. Have it your way." He picked up the photos and again turned to go.

"Wait! L-Let me see the pictures," Clicks said.

Sean spread them out on the desk again and Clicks shuffled up and looked them over. "This g-g-guy," Clicks said, pointing at Juno. "Maybe this one too," he added, pointing to another picture. "It's hard to tell b-because he was wearing sunglasses, but they were like these."

"So, the guy who spoke to you was wearing those sunglasses?"

"Yeah."

All the men in the pictures were wearing similar styles of sunglasses. "Is that why you picked him out, because he wore the same type of sunglasses?"

"Yeah, b-b-but he also has the same k-kind of face."

"You're sure it's him?"

"N-No, but these two look more like him than the other two."

Sean pulled back the two photos Clicks had eliminated. "Of those two, which looks most like the man?" Clicks put his finger on Juno. Sean nodded. "This is the guy who hired you to start the fires?"

Clicks twitched and clucked. "Yeah. I'm p-p-pretty sure."

"That's all I need, thanks. Ricky, I'm going to give you some advice for helping me, and I suggest you follow it. You need to leave. Go someplace else and live. Get out of Siouan County, the farther away the better."

"Why?" Clicks asked.

"I don't think you'll like what might happen if you stay."

"What might happen?" Blue asked. "Are you threatening him? I'm going to report you."

"I'm not threatening him, I'm giving him some good advice." He looked at Clicks. "Have I lied to you? For your sake, follow it." He gave them a nod and then stepped out of the shelter.

As he drove back to Brunswick, Sean mulled over what he had. Ricky had picked out Harvey as the man who hired him, but the identification was squishy at best. Juno was a businessman in good standing in Charleston and Ricky was homeless, an admitted arsonist, possibly a drug addict, and Sean wasn't entirely sure he was all there. Any competent lawyer would eat Clicks alive on the stand. He needed something else. Something he could take to the magistrate for an arrest warrant, but what? It still didn't make sense that Juno hired Clicks, despite what he said. Assuming Juno never intended to pay Ricky the full thousand, why would he pay even two hundred to burn the buildings down? Just because the company he bid the job for didn't go forward with construction?

There had to be more to it than that. He'd really like to get a look at Juno's books. Most crimes came down to two things, passion or money. He couldn't imagine how passion would figure in this, so it had to be money. There was no way he could get a search warrant with what he had, Clicks soft ID of Juno notwithstanding. Worse, he wasn't sure a warrant was even justified. All he had on Juno was the word of a homeless man and some fingerprints on the hood of a truck that called into question some of Juno's statements.

He was still mulling over what to do as he pulled to a stop at his apartment. He checked the time on the car's clock before switching off the engine. Maggie would be there in less than a half-hour. He hurried up to his apartment and went inside, gently pushing Marmalade aside with his foot as the cat meowed, weaved, and purred.

"I know, you thought you were going to starve."

As he moved deeper into his apartment, Marmalade dashed to the cabinet where his food was kept, reared up and placed his front paws on the door, and then watched over his shoulder as Sean walked past. True to his routine, the cat dropped back to the floor and ran past him to jump on the bed. He smiled as he scratched Marmalade on the head. There were only three certainties in life... death, taxes, and Marmalade begging for food as soon as he got home. He dropped his stuff and returned to the kitchen to feed his cat.

"What shall it be tonight, your majesty? Liver, beef liver, seafood, or... chopped grill?" he asked as he picked up each can in turn. He returned all the cans except the chopped grill to the cabinet and stood. "I don't know what this one is," he said, talking to the cat as he retrieved one of the cat bowls from the cabinet and opened the can. He took a quick sniff then dumped the pâté

into Marmalade's bowl. "Chicken... I think," he said as he nudged the rubbing, purring, meowing cat aside so he could set his bowl on the floor.

Marmalade attacked the food with his typical gusto, purring as he wolfed it down. While the cat ate, Sean showered. He felt gritty after being out in the heat for so much of the day. He'd just picked up Marmalade's empty bowl when a knock sounded at his door. He placed the bowl in the sink and turned toward the door in a single motion.

"Hey," he said, stepping back so Maggie could enter. He offered her a kiss. "I'm running late tonight, so we're going out. Where do you want to go?"

"Oh! Uh, want to do Asher's? We haven't been there in a while."

"That's fine. Back to where we had our first date," he said, making quote marks with his fingers around the last word.

"Not Mangia?"

"Asher's was our first dinner together," he said as he reached past her, opened the door, and escorted her to his car.

"Yeah, but you just happened to bump into me there," she countered with a bemused expression.

Over dinner they avoided the topic of work entirely, instead talking about Hurricane Gert, the chances of it making landfall in North Carolina, and the effects of it doing so. Maggie made it clear that after last year, she'd had all the hurricanes she cared for, thank you very much. After dinner, they returned to his apartment and settled in to watch Déjà vu, with Denzel Washington, until bedtime. As they prepared for bed, he watched himself in the mirror, his mind wandering back to Juno as he shaved. Why would Juno--

"Are you coming? I'm getting cold in here and I need you to come spoon me!" Maggie called from the bedroom. He smiled, Juno suddenly the farthest thing from his mind.

Sean stood up and extended his hand across the desk to Tyrell Pickerling, one of the two Tilley officers who wanted to join the Brunswick PD. He'd already interviewed Garland Jacoby and had instructed the city's personnel department to extend an offer. He was going to do the same with Tyrell. Both Jacoby and Pickerling were young officers, less than two years out of school, and both were still eager to make a difference. That was the kind of officers he liked, and the type of officers he would need to help turn Tilley around.

"Thanks for coming by, Tyrell."

"Thanks for the interview, chief. I look forward to having a chance to serve with you."

"We'll be in touch," Sean said as he escorted the young man out.

He returned to his office and picked up his phone, quickly dialing the personnel department. The phone rang several times then clicked into voicemail. This is Amy Drote, Personnel Director for the City of Brunswick. I'm not at my phone...

Sean listened to the rest of the message. "Amy, Sean," he said after the tone. "I want to extend an offer to Tyrell Pickerling for one of the open officer positions. I'd like to have him start as soon as possible. Give me a call if you have any questions. Thanks."

He hung up the phone and glanced at the time in the corner of his computer. He was going to have to hurry. Chips would be here soon to be wired. He quickly finished filling out the paperwork for Tyrell, scanned it, and then emailed it to Amy.

"I'm here," Chips said, sticking his head into Sean's office right on time. Chips had changed into his street clothes, a loose-fitting Polo shirt, jeans, and loafers.

Sean stood. "Okay, let's get you wired," he said as he stepped around his desk. He and Chips walked to the armory.

"Who's on backup?" Chips asked as Sean unlocked the door.

"Caswell, Donner, and me."

"You're going?"

"Yeah. I figure I should since it's our first buy in Tilley."

"Fish sitting this one out?"

"Yeah. He wanted to go, but I told him to take a pass. The last thing I want is him to be around if this goes to hell."

"He can handle it," Chips said, his voice making his conviction clear.

"It's not him I'm worried about. Hold still."

Sean unplugged the camera from its charger, selected a button surround to match those on Chips' shirt, and after attaching the surround to the camera, carefully worked it through the second buttonhole.

Chips grinned. "Ah. You don't want the rogue cop around if someone does something stupid?" he asked as Sean worked at his shirt.

"Now you're catching on. There."

The camera was tiny. The lens itself was the size of a pencil point, the rest of the camera barely larger than four stacked quarters. There were a dozen different button fronts that could be screwed onto the camera to match nearly any common button, and it would record thirty minutes of 1080p video to its microSD card before its internal battery was exhausted. Sean didn't bother with trying to find a place to hide the credit card sized auxiliary battery. Thirty minutes of recording would be plenty for today.

The camera also transmitted audio, via Bluetooth, to a chewing gum pack size transmitter that rebroadcast the audio so backup officers could listen in. Chips tucked the transmitter inside his sock. If he were worried Chips would be patted down, he'd suggest hiding it in his crotch. No tough guy in the world would pat a guy down there.

The camera was a marvel of micro engineering, easily available, and cost less than a thousand dollars. A tiny bit of sticky gum on the back of the camera, to stick it to the shirt button it was covering, and the chances of someone noticing it was virtually zero. The days of hiding wires and bulky recorders were long gone, despite what television and movies led people to believe. With Chips wired, they stepped out of the armory, Sean picking up three walkies as they did. He switched his radio on and stepped five paces away from Chips to avoid a feedback loop, changing the walkie channel to the one used by the wire as he did. Chips pressed the front of the camera to switch it on.

"Check." His voice came out of the walkie in Sean's hand. He pressed the button again. "Check," he repeated to make sure the camera was off to conserve its limited battery life.

"That's it," Sean said.

Sean pulled to a stop and put his car in park, but left the engine running so he'd have air conditioning. He had about thirty minutes to kill before Chips showed up. The tiny transmitter in Chips' sock was good for about a quarter-mile, so they had to get in close. In Tilley, that wasn't easy. They had to get in close enough to backup Chips, but not so close to spook the people they wanted to bust. Unlike Brunswick, there wasn't any place to hide. The downtown area was almost completely deserted after the sun went down so there were no cars, no restaurants, no nothing they could use to disguise their presence. They would just have to do the best they could. Their patrols of downtown were already having an effect. It was clear the dealers were putting a man on lookout. When a cruiser approached, a lone man began walking while talking on a cell. At least now downtown Tilley had some foot traffic, even if it was just drug dealers and thugs.

He dialed Maggie while he waited. "How you doing?" he asked when she answered.

"Fine. Me and TC are watching White Christmas, with Bing Crosby and Danny Kay."

"White Christmas? It's July."

"You've never heard of Christmas in July? Besides, it's a musical, I know how you feel about those, and I've already seen it a couple of times."

"Oh, okay then. I wanted to check in before it got too late."

"How late do you think you'll be?"

"Don't know. Depends on when we get a hit, or give up."

"Okay. Just be careful."

"Don't worry. I keep telling you, it's not like in the movies. Get busted for selling drugs and you'll pull six months on a first offense. Kill a cop and you could get the chair. Better for them to just give up, or run, than to start shooting."

"I still worry."

He smiled, her concern warming him. "Don't. Nothing's going to happen, at least not tonight." He grimaced and tugged at his ballistic vest. It was pinching. He didn't know how his guys wore one all day, every day.

"Yeah, I know. It's times like these when I wish I hadn't watched all those cop movies."