High-Caliber Concealer (16 page)

“How do you know there’s no one else in
there?” asked Jackson. Nikki swung the truck door open and hopped
out.

“I don’t,” she said, shutting the door
quietly.

She hadn’t gone ten steps before she heard
Jackson’s door shut and the sound of his feet on the pavement
behind her.

“Is the Captain going to be OK by
himself?”

“Yeah, I left the window open. He’ll be
fine.” He looked around, craning his neck to see if they had been
spotted.

“Jackson, stop twisting your head like an
owl. It makes you look guilty.”

“But we are guilty,” he hissed.

“Speak for yourself,” said Nikki. “I don’t
feel any guilt.”

The back door was locked, but it was a
simple deadbolt that Nikki picked in under thirty seconds.

“You carry a set of lock-picks around with
you?” he asked as she tucked them back in her bag.

Nikki shrugged. “They come in handy. I’m
going to go in first. Give me a second to get my bearings and then
come in after me.”

Nikki stepped into the garage and looked
around. In terms of secret lairs, it was a severe disappointment.
It was just a garage. A moment later Jackson stepped through the
door; he looked around and gave a low whistle.

“Would you look at this equipment? Who knew
Bill had the budget for this? I always got the impression he was
barely making it.”

“This stuff is expensive?” asked Nikki,
waving at the collection of grease covered machines.

“Yeah! He could practically machine his own
car with this setup. That, over there, is a-”

“I don’t want to know,” said Nikki, cutting
him off. “That information is only going to fill up valuable hard
drive space in my head. But would you say that the equipment is
unusual for a body shop?”

“A little bit,” said Jackson walking further
into the garage. “I mean, for a shop this small.”

There was a sharp bark and a scrabble of
nails against the door that made them both jump. Nikki opened the
door and Captain Beaumont leapt in, tail wagging.

“Left the window open, you said?”

Jackson sighed and hung his head. “I’ll take
him back to the truck.”

“No, the last thing we need is for someone
to spot us traipsing back and forth. Let’s just finish searching
this place and get out of here.”

“But I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“Anything unusual,” said Nikki. Jackson
grunted in dissatisfaction at her answer, but began to prowl around
the machines.

The garage had space for two cars, which
were currently occupied, one by a truck with the hood up and the
other by a Honda four-door. The front driver’s side area was primer
gray and the trunk area had been stripped down to the metal frame.
The garage was quite tall, probably designed to accommodate semi’s
and RV’s, and at the back of the room a set of stairs led up to a
small office perched improbably on stilts above everything. Nikki
jogged up the stairs and opened the door. The floor was a grease
stained industrial carpet, the file cabinets were that peculiar
puke beige that never matched any office anywhere, and the desk was
a particle board 1970s job laden with a greasy fingerprint-covered
computer, a half-eaten burger, and three months worth of paperwork.
Nikki began going through the filing cabinets. She wasn’t expecting
to find much. Bill might have kept incriminating paperwork around,
but then again, he’d also kept a receipt from a 1991 trip to the
gas station and a 1995 nudie calendar and a 2001 petrified cheese
sandwich jammed between a parts catalog and a folder full of sales
receipts.

“Find anything?” asked Jackson, poking his
head through the door.

Nikki let a stack of paperwork drop in
disgust. “It would take a forensic accountant and a maid a month to
find anything in this mess. Did you find anything?”

“He’s got some strange machines for a small
town auto shop, but there’s no law against having a machinists shop
worth of stuff in your tiny business.”

Nikki nodded and glanced out the window to
the garage floor. “What’s your dog doing?” Captain Beaumont was
sitting perfectly still next to the Honda’s primered fender,
staring intently at it.

“Oh, crap,” said Jackson. “Uh, I need a toy.
I’m supposed to play with him when he does that.” He began to look
around for a toy, as if one would magically appear.

“What are you talking about?”

“I told you, he was trained as a police
dog.” Jackson was jogging back down the stairs and Nikki trailed
after him. “That’s his signal.”

“I thought you were joking about that.”

“No, he flunked out because he didn’t like
loud noises. Who’s a good dog? You’re the good dog!” Captain
Beaumont looked thrilled to have his goodness recognized and leapt
up to wrestle with his human.

“So what’s that a signal for?” asked Nikki,
bending over to inspect the Honda’s side.

“Drugs!” said Jackson, still using his
happy, good dog voice and leaping around the car with the
Captain.

“I think,” Nikki began, but was cut off as
the far garage door began to rumble upwards. She looked toward the
back entrance, directly visible from the slowly rising garage door
and then back at Jackson, frozen in place with his arms full of
dog. “Under the Honda,” she commanded, and slid into the pit space
beneath the car. Jackson shoved the surprised Captain Beaumont in
next and then wriggled in after her.

“I asked you to do one thing,” grumbled Bill
stomping into the garage.

“I was distracted,” complained Milt. “I just
got my ass handed to me by the boss.”

“And that prevented you from picking up the
damn Slim Jim?” demanded Bill, collecting the thin piece of metal
from a workbench and waving it at Milt. “I’m starting to think that
redhead beat what was left of your brain into a pulp.”

“She got a lucky shot in,” whined Milt.

“Yeah, well maybe if you didn’t smoke so
much of your own product, she wouldn’t have gotten so lucky.”

“Like you don’t smoke,” said Milt.

“Not when I have a job to do,” said Bill.
“You know that’s why Ylina got stopped, right? It was probably you
sitting in the car that left all kinds of scent all over the place.
I can smell you from here.”

“Ylina got stopped because she’s a dumb
whore. This is not my fault. And if you tell the boss that, I will
beat your head in.”

“I’m not telling nothing to the boss,” said
Bill. “But you should stop crying to me about how it’s not your
fault and get Ylina and the car back before he decides to beat your
head in.”

The garage door rumbled closed and Captain
Beaumont let out a soft woof.

“Not exactly the drugs I had pictured when
the dog sat down,” said Nikki, holding up a hand rolled spliff from
where it had been carefully perched next to an array of tools.

“No, but check this out,” said Jackson,
pointing to the inside of the fender. Above the wheel, space had
been hollowed out and a compartment welded in with a latching door.
“There’s one on each side. How much do you think would fit in
there? Ten pounds per wheel?”

“Probably, and I’m sorry, what was that you
were saying about me being crazy?”

“You are crazy. Apparently, you’re also
right. But it’s still ridiculous to go around breaking into places
like the Hardy Boys.”

“You’re a Hardy Boy. I’m clearly Nancy
Drew.”

“Whatever. Can we go now? I want to get out
of here before the drug smugglers come back.”

Nikki nodded and helped lead Captain
Beaumont out from under the car. Only when they were safely back in
the truck and heading for home, did conversation resume.

“So what do we do now? Call the
sheriff?”

Nikki hesitated, and then shook her head.
“Even if he believed us which, considering he let Milt go the first
time, seems unlikely, he’s going to have a problem with how we
found out.”

“That’s because breaking and entering is
bad,” said Jackson.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Anyway, we don’t
have any proof. So I think the next step is to talk to Donny. Donny
already thinks something weird is going down. He said so at the
grocery store. He’ll probably be able to use what we found out to
bring in state police or something.”

“OK, we’ll talk to Donny on Friday night at
the Fernandez shindig,” said Jackson nodding. “But Nikki?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you warn me next time we’re going to
engage in illegal activity?”

“Well, there wasn’t supposed to be a ‘we’
this time. You weren’t invited, remember?”

“Yeah, who does usually get invited to these
parties? That ‘not boring’ boyfriend of yours?”

“Oh, God no. He disapproves of my adventures
even more than you do.” She slowed down to make the turn onto Peg’s
property.

“Isn’t that a little bit of a problem in
your relationship?”

Nikki squinted out the cracked windshield.
“A little bit,” she admitted. “Get out and open the shed door for
me, will you?”

Jackson flipped on the light in the shed and
held the door while Nikki backed the truck in. She cut the motor
and hopped out with Captain Beaumont close on her heels.

“This brings back memories,” said Jackson
hoisting one of the inner tubes. “How many hours did we waste
floating in the pond?”

“They weren’t wasted,” said Nikki. “They
were enjoyed and savored.”

Nikki flipped off the light and stood
waiting for her eyes to get accustomed to the moonlight. Jackson
helped her wrestle the lock back in place and stood looking down at
the peach orchard.

“Race you down to the pond,” he said,
looking over his shoulder at her. It was too dark to see his eyes,
but she caught the grin.

“I don’t know,” she said, but he was already
running, Captain Beaumont at his heels.

Nikki sprinted to catch up. Ahead of her
Jackson slithered to a stop on the tiny dock, kicking off his shoes
and pulling off his sweatshirt.

“That’s not fair!” Nikki yelled, as he
cannonballed off the end of the dock. “You have less clothes on
than I do. And a head start.” She yanked off her shirt and used the
seconds Jackson was underwater to unclip her gun and hide it under
her jeans.

“You’re just mad because you’re slow,” he
said, resurfacing.

Nikki stood on the dock in her underwear,
one hand on her hip. “I am not slow. I will beat you to the tree.”
She pointed to overhanging oak on the far side of the pond.

“Not a chance,” said Jackson, and dove
underwater, starting to swim.

Nikki waited the fraction of a second until
he was underwater and then sprinted along the water’s edge. She
arrived, gasping for air, but ahead of Jackson.

“Now, who’s cheating?” demanded Jackson.

“I didn’t say I would swim,” said Nikki. “I
said I would win. And I did. Although I paid a heavy price. I think
I stepped on either a frog or a cow pie back there. I didn’t stop
to investigate.”

“Some thing’s are better left a mystery,”
agreed Jackson. “You coming in or not?”

In answer, Nikki dove off the bank in a
shallow arc. The water was a cool shock and she popped back up with
a gasp. There was a splash next to her and Captain Beaumont paddled
by with a long stick.

“Never mind the Captain,” said Jackson,
swimming closer in a strong butterfly stroke. “He doesn’t really
understand that no one wants a giant slimy oak branch.” He pushed
against Captain Beaumont, who remained unconvinced and swung his
head around, batting at Nikki with the stick.

“Hey,” said Nikki, pushing back, but the
branch pushed her against Jackson. The contact of their skin was
electric and Nikki found herself staring into his eyes and
remembering what it had been like to be in love with him. It had
been easy. It seemed like everything had been easier then.

“Hey, yourself,” murmured Jackson.

Nikki knew she shouldn’t. She knew she was
probably going to regret it. And she knew she wanted to anyway.

Their lips met and for a moment there was
the familiar spark. His hands slid from her waist up her rib cage
and for a moment she forgot to kick. The cold water splashed over
head and Captain Beaumont jabbed her with his stick.

Jackson pushed Beaumont away, laughing.
“We’re not buoyant enough for this. We should head for shore.”

He swam for the dock and Nikki followed more
slowly. He let her climb the ladder first, but when they were on
solid ground, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her
close.

“Um,” said Nikki leaning back. “Uh, no, I
think.”

“Not the boyfriend?” Jackson seemed
exasperated.

“Yes, the boyfriend. I love him!”

“But it’s us.”

“No, it’s just you and me,” said Nikki,
sitting down on the end of the dock. “There is no us.”

Jackson flopped down next to her, leaning
back on his elbows. Captain Beaumont nosed in between them and laid
down, panting.

“Sorry,” said Nikki, awkwardly.

“Mmph,” said Jackson, flapping a hand
dismissively. “You’re probably right. Moonlight and adrenalin
aren’t the most sane reasons for reviving a relationship.”

“Well, I do want us to be friends again
though,” said Nikki and Jackson laughed.

“Are you actively putting me in the friend
zone? I’ve read the internet—I should not let you put me on
layaway. I should demand that you make a decision. You should
respect me for the great catch that I am.”

“You haven’t been reading the internet.
You’ve been reading Marie Claire.”

“I think it was GQ at the barber shop
actually. Besides we’ve got the time. I’m not going anywhere.”

“What does that mean?” demanded Nikki,
reaching out to pet Beaumont who leaned happily against her.

“Just that you’re right. It is you and me.
We’ve been friends since we could walk and I fully intend to keep
being friends with you until we can’t walk anymore. I’m just saying
we’ve got time for… whatever.” He flapped his hand at the water,
consigning their future to the future.