“No.”
“Good.” Brodie pushed Hinckley against the chain-link fence, patted him down, then pushed him toward the house. “Let’s see how much trouble you’re in.”
They walked past the barking black Lab. Brodie now noticed the dog’s rib cage pushing through its mangy black hair.
Hinckley said, “It’s all right, girl.”
The dog growled at him.
“I don’t think she likes you, Private.”
Hinckley didn’t respond. Brodie led him through the open door andinto a small, filthy kitchen. About two dozen cardboard crates labeledMeals Ready to Eat, featuring the Department of Defense seal, were stacked against one wall. Brodie said to Hinckley, “Don’t they feed you enough in the mess hall, soldier?”
No reply.
“You want to tell me where the rest is before I turn this place inside out?”
Hinckley stared at the floor, silent. Brodie wondered if the guy understood that his Army days were over, except for the time he’d spend in a military prison.
Brodie led him into the living room, where Trooper Finley was taking photos with his cell phone. Finley said, “Did a sweep. No one else here.”
“Copy.”
Brodie pushed Hinckley onto the couch. “Don’t move.”
Brodie heard Evans rummaging around in a room off the living room and entered a small, cluttered bedroom. Evans, wearing latex gloves, was closing a dresser drawer and slipping a small baggie of white powder into his jacket pocket.
Evans looked up at him. “About six cases under the bed.” He gestured to the open closet. “Few more in there. And you saw the ones in the kitchen.”
Brodie stared at his partner for a moment. “Check the garage. Then circle back for a thorough search of the house.”
Evans nodded and walked out. Brodie reopened the drawer, which was full of civilian and Army socks, along with a wad of cash.
Brodie walked back into the living room and sat down on the coffee table opposite the handcuffed Hinckley, who was staring at the pause screen of his video game on the big flat-screen across the room. A voluptuous woman in a Nazi uniform with bloody chainsaws for hands was standing in some sort of bunker.
Brodie asked, “Why did you run?”
Hinckley shrugged, looked down at the floor. “I freaked.”
“I didn’t need the cardio, Private.”
He looked at Brodie. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“And you knocked down my partner. That’s assault of a law enforcement officer, plus evading arrest in addition to the larceny charge. But maybe those additional charges won’t show up in my report.”
Hinckley looked at Brodie and nodded. “I certainly would appreciate that, sir.”
“Is my partner going to find anything in the garage?”
Hinckley nodded.
“How much?”
“Fifty, sixty cases.”
“You’ve got about ninety grand in stolen government property here, Private. And that’s not counting what you’ve already moved. Who’s helping you?”
Hinckley didn’t reply.
