Page 100 of Tough Justice

Deck lifted his chin toward the next building, a small shed off to the side. As they neared the door, neither dog scented a track. He dropped Thor’s leash and they all raised the muzzles of their shotguns. Deck pulled on the handle. The door opened with a rusty squeal. He shined his flashlight inside, but the shed was empty, save for some rotting bags of grain and a few mice that scurried away and disappeared through a hole in the rotting floor.

“Let’s hit the next one,” he whispered, picking up Thor’s leash and indicating a large aluminum building twenty feet away, one that looked like a garage.

They hadn’t gone five feet when both Thor and Blue began pulling hard on their leashes. Both dogs were on a hot track. Since Blue wasn’t a drug dog, chances were they were scenting a human. Tori.

Deck followed his dog. As before, Brett and Evan covered him as he pulled on the handle, sliding the door open along its metal track. He released Thor and aimed the shotgun inside. The first car he recognized was Tori’s Subaru. To the right of the Subaru was a black Maserati, to the left a Dodge Durango. Thor and Blue each went to a different side of the Subaru, rising on their hind legs and pawing at the windows.

“Light it up.” With the shotgun aimed in, Deck waited for his friends to shine their flashlights into Tori’s car. He yanked open the driver’s side door. Thor nudged his head past Deck’s leg, sniffing the front seat. On the seat was a cell phone. Beside the phone was a battery.

While Brett and Evan shined their flashlights into the other vehicles, Deck slung the shotgun strap over his shoulder and inserted the battery back into the phone on the seat. After it booted back up, he cued up Tori’s number on his own phone. Seconds later, the phone lit up and rang. He ended the call then searched the interior of the car, finding nothing.

“The Maserati’s empty,” Evan confirmed, tightening his grip on Blue.

“Nothing in this one,” Brett said, shutting the door of the rusty Durango, “except beer cans and a few cigarette stubs. No registration papers.”

“Trunk.” Deck indicated the Subaru and waited for his friends to cover the trunk. He pulled the lever beneath the steering wheel and heard a click. Evan flipped up the trunk then gave a quick shake of his head.

Deck looked inside. The only things in there were a cardboard box containing windshield wiper fluid, a snow scraper, and Tori’s black medical bag. Quietly, he eased the trunk closed.

Thor dragged Deck back to the passenger side of the Subaru. He opened the door, and his dog sat, indicating this was the strongest scent and most likely where Tori had been last. In the passenger seat, not the driver’s seat.

Next, he went to the Durango. It had been a pickup truck that had run him down in Commons Park. After T-Lo had shot at him and Tori that night on Alameda Avenue, Lakewood PD did a full background on the guy. Lomax owned a Durango. Deck shined his flashlight on the front of the truck. Someone had removed the tags, but a sizeable dent graced the right front bumper, possibly made by his shoulder, which was aching again like a mother.

Beside Brett, Blaze whined and stomped his front feet. “I’m telling you, Deck, Blaze is picking up something else here.”

Deck understood Brett’s warning. Somewhere in their vicinity were either fire residue, explosives, or both. But Thor hadn’t picked up a drug scent. Yet.

“Stand by,” he said then called Sammie.

“Whatdya need, Deck?”

“Two vehicle lookups.” He recited the tag number on the Maserati, then shined his flashlight on the Durango’s VIN, giving Sammie that number, as well.

Quick tapping came through the phone. “The Maserati is registered to Barnett’s Ag & Mining Co-op.”

“And the Durango?”

More tapping. “The Durango is registered to Timothy Lomax.”

Gotcha, motherfucker. “Is the registration current?”

“Ten-four.”

“Copy that. Thanks.” He ended the call. “This is T-Lo’s truck.”

“PC?” Evan raised his brows.

Damn right, it gave them probable cause. He worked through the evidence at light speed. “There’s an outstanding arrest warrant for him, and his vehicle is parked—hidden—on this property. It doesn’t give us PC to search the place for Barnett or evidence of drugs, but it does give us PC to search for a wanted felon.” One who’d tried to murder Deck.

First, Deck called ASAC Rivera, leaving a message when it went to voicemail. Next, he called the local PD, requesting immediate backup to search for a wanted homicide suspect. Given what they might be walking into, he also requested an ambulance.

“So what are we waiting for?” Brett asked when Deck had hung up.

“Not a damn thing.” He charged from the garage, letting Thor and Blue lead the way.

Both dogs immediately picked up a hot track, leading them directly to another building ten feet behind the garage. This one was small, not even a building, really. Thor sat, a classic sign that he’d just hit on narcotics. Deck shined his flashlight on the door, which was slightly ajar and looked to be made of iron.

Blaze growled then sat just as Deck reached for the handle.