“We haven’t moved anything in your office yet, so don’t go all the way in,” Kennett cautioned, shooting a quick shake of his head at Cain. “In fact, why don’t you wait out here, ma’am. I’ll catalog and bring you anything you absolutely have to have right now.”
This time there was no smart remark about being called ma’am, Betsy just pushed past the officer. “Don’t be silly. I won’t touch anything. I’d just like to see for myself what the?—”
She stumbled backward and spun around, crashing into Cain’s chest. On reflex he folded her against him. Held tighter when she clutched his shirt, then leaned enough to see inside her office.
Every muscle in his body tensed. The bastard had left calling cards of spray paint. First wall—Where’s my money? Second wall—I want my goods! Third wall—Don’t make me ask again!
Guiding her back outside into the cold night air, Cain kept a grip on her, and on his emotions. He’d seen this over-the-edge anger search plenty of times during his career. Didn’t have to be the same man to have the same personality. Evidently, something of value had gone missing. From Cain’s experience, if the item or items—money, drugs, information, blackmail list, etc.—didn’t show up soon, then things would only get worse.
“Breathe, Betsy. Just breathe.” Cain rubbed his palm in circles between her shoulder blades. “I’ve got you. No one’s going to hurt you.”
“But…but…” Her jerky little not-gonna-happen sobs tapped against his chest.
He held tighter. “Not now. Not ever, I promise.”
Yeah, she was one tough cookie. But even a strong person had a pressure valve. Last night and now were enough to raise anybody’s emotions to the boiling point. She’d be okay. Give her a little time and she’d be tough as titanium once again.
No one said a word as she calmed down, easing her breathing back to normal. The dealership’s lights deactivated with the first rays of sunrise. Distant bells from All Souls Catholic Church tolled the hour. Another day of chaos loomed on the horizon.
She stepped back from his hold.
Cain felt partly responsible. He should have made her take the time to go to the police station last night to look at photos. To see if she’d had other not-so-nice visitors at the lot posing as customers. They should have viewed the security video. Although, he’d bet money that this guy knew the placement of every camera view of the lot.
Evans cleared his throat. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That whatever drug deal was happening last night, didn’t get finished. And somebody thinks the stash is still here.”
The deputy nodded. “By the way, I’ve already called JB and the sheriff.”
Cain braced his hand against the side of the building. Thinking. Analyzing. Step by step, he worked through the last few hours. What was he missing?
“What time did the first alarm come in?” Evans asked Kennett.
“About—”
Cain snapped his fingers. “That’s it. That’s the missing cog.”
He motioned Betsy to his truck as he took off running for the driver’s side. “Why would the jerk set off all the alarms when he’d just worked for hours ripping everything apart without setting off the system?”
“One reason. He wanted us here!” Kennett shouted as he raced toward his patrol car.
“Right. He made the alarms go off on purpose. I’ll lay you odds we find him at Betsy’s house.” Cain pulled his Glock from the holster and laid it on the console as he jumped into the cab of his truck. In the background, he heard Evans calling for backup.
Betsy jumped in the passenger seat of Cain’s truck and buckled up. Any shock and fear she’d felt five minutes ago had disappeared. In its place was the cold determination of a woman analyzing everything that was happening.
Years back, Cain had worked an undercover job where everyone talked about a man who used alarms to get people where he wanted them to go. That was his routine. His tag. His MO. If he was still around, he would likely still have the same routine. And every agent, lawman and private investigator worth their money knew one thing for sure: Routines got people caught.
Follow the routine. Catch the perp.
Only one problem. He’d worked for the same high level “importers” Cain had been sent undercover to infiltrate back then. At that time, the drug runner had been small potatoes. Now? By now, he’d have worked his way up the ladder. Might even be the ace. That meant he’d be more than dangerous. The man had too much to lose to fail.
Cain glanced in Betsy’s direction. “When we get to your house, I want you to stay in the truck. Got it?”
Betsy nodded.
“I’m serious.” Racing across town, he stayed on the bumper of the siren-off, lights-flashing deputy’s car. “I can’t be worried about you when I go inside. Understand?”
“I understand. I’ll stay in the truck, but?—”
