Malevolent (Lieutenant Kane series Book 1) (19 page)

I paused the video. “Here comes the part where you walk out with the stolen drugs.” I hit Play again.

He stumbled for words before the video even played through. “Those aren’t stolen drugs.”

“What are they?”

“I bought heartworm pills for my dog. Why would you have video of that?”

“Excuse me?”

“Heartworm pills. They are still at my house in the bag with the receipt. They are under the kitchen sink. That was like a week before I quit. I stocked up so I wouldn’t have to pay retail.”

“Chad, another officer and I stopped by the warehouse. The bin where you are doing this is where the Xylazine is kept.”

“Yeah, it’s also the same bin the X-tra Guard heartworm pills are sometimes kept. The stock in the warehouse is alphabetized. Some items share bins.”

“I didn’t see any heartworm pills in that bin when we were there,” I said.

“Call the place and ask.”

I hit the power button on the system. “Give me a minute.” I walked out.

Captain Bostok and Major Danes stood outside the door.

“Tell Jones to look under the kitchen sink for a bag filled with heartworm pills,” I said.

Hank walked out from the observation room with his phone to his ear. “Already called him. He’s checking now.”

“Think he’s telling the truth?” Major Danes asked.

I shrugged.

Hank gave a nod and cupped the mouthpiece. “Jones said he found a brown paper bag filled with X-tra Guard heartworm pills under the sink. There’s a receipt. The boxes even have stamps from Pet Med Plus.”

“Give me that.” I took the phone from Hank. “Jones, you see anything that looks remotely suspicious out there?”

“Nothing. A few of the guys stuck around to help me look. We’re coming up empty.”

“No signs of any of those drugs? Did you check everywhere?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Normal-looking medicine cabinet. Nothing prescription. Searched high and low.”

“Tools? Did you go through them?”

“This guy owns about as many tools as my grandmother. There’s just nothing here, Kane.”

“Did you get a look in that cab?”

“A once-over. Nothing of interest, unless you want to get forensics out here to go through it.”

“Let me see what our plan is here. I’ll get back with you in a few minutes.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay, thanks.” I hung up.

“He says there is nothing there. We have no stolen drugs and nothing of interest.”

“Son of a bitch,” the captain said.

“Hold on.” I pulled up the Internet on my phone and searched for the Pet Med Plus phone number. I hit the button to dial.

“Pet Med Plus, this is Don.”

“Lieutenant Carl Kane, I was in there earlier.”

“Sure what can I do for you?”

“Do you store X-tra Guard heartworm pills in the same bin as Xylazine?”

“When it just comes in, we do. We run low on shelf space, so sometimes we combine things after a big shipment.”

“Thanks.” I hung up.

I looked to the captain. “This Packard guy might be telling the truth.”

The captain let out a long breath. “Call Donner. Find out where Cross is. Get his ass back in here.”

“What are we doing with Packard?” I asked.

“We’re sitting on him. No one of interest is leaving this station.”

I nodded.

Hank and I headed to my office to make the call.

“Think Cross might be our guy?” Hank asked.

“He just moved up the list.”

While Bob Cross might have gotten himself out of the station, he hadn’t done so without a tail. I enlisted Detective Donner to follow Cross from the police station. I dialed up Donner, and he picked up right away.

“Donner.”

“Hey, it’s Kane. You still on Cross?”

“Yup. I’m looking at him now.”

“Where is he?”

“At the mall.”

I could hear the sounds of faint music and people talking. “The mall?”

“Yeah, the mall in Brandon. I followed him here, parked, and found him inside. I’ve been following him around from store to store since. He’s sitting in the food court now, eating.”

“He hasn’t spotted you, has he?”

“Nah, no way. I’ve been keeping my distance.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now either way. Bring him back here.”

“You want me to ask him to come back in, or you want him brought back in?”

“Brought.”

“Ten four. I’ll go get him.”

“Let the mall security know what you’re doing.”

“You want mall security to back me up with this guy? That’s a joke, right? I’ll just go grab him and be on my way back.”

“Let them know. He might be our guy. We don’t need an incident. Call me when he’s in custody.” I hung up.

“Hank, find me something on Bob Cross. I mean anything.”

“Will do.” Hank left my office.

When he got the call from the sergeant, he got the perfect opportunity to get a little face time with Lieutenant Kane. Bob wanted to see what kind of person he was—to see how much of an adversary Kane could be.

Bob had always been planning to use Packard as a patsy if needed. While he’d gotten the time he sought with the lieutenant, and gotten out of the station, he hadn’t done so without a tail. Bob might have underestimated the lieutenant’s level of intelligence. The cat-and-mouse game had begun.

He first spotted the tail as he left the station. A gray late-model Dodge Charger pulled from the parking structure after him. He kept tabs on the car following in the side mirror. He made a few extra turns. With each one, the car reappeared in the Range Rover’s mirror—never more than a few car lengths back. Bob headed back toward Brandon. He figured the cop would stop where his jurisdiction ended. He didn’t—he kept following. He couldn’t take the cop to the house. Bob opted for the mall. It should have been an easy place to ditch the tail.

The cop wore a suit. He was alone. He followed Bob from store to store. Bob looked at clothing. He stopped, checked prices, and even tried a few things on in the store’s dressing rooms. The cop stayed close. Bob looked for an opportunity to elude the detective’s surveillance, but he was never more than a hundred feet away.

Bob wondered if they’d found Packard yet. The cab idea had come from him. Chad talked about it every day. He had a countdown. Each day, Packard would announce he was one day closer to starting his cab business. One day, it clicked. It would be the perfect way to get the women. When he overheard Chad asking about getting heartworm pills for his dog, Bob decided to record him grabbing them from the bin. Bob had taken the Xylazine the next day.

He smiled, thinking of his intelligence. A burst of pain shot up his leg and interrupted his smile. He’d been trying to disguise his limp and walk normally for hours. After just a few more feet, he could rest.

He walked his tray of food over to an empty table at the food court and sat. He unwrapped his cheeseburger and dug in. From the corner of his eye, he spotted the detective walking to a table. He picked away at his french fries and washed them down with a mouthful of soda.

The cop sat at the other end of the food court, staring at him. He talked on the phone. He was probably giving whoever was on the other end an update on his whereabouts—maybe Lieutenant Kane.

Bob finished his meal, wiped his hands with a napkin, and got up. He walked his tray over to the trash and then headed for the bathrooms at the edge of the food court. He stopped in front of a hat store to watch the scene behind him in the glass. To anyone looking, he appeared to be checking out the merchandise inside. He caught the detective getting up in the reflection. Bob made for the hallway. A hundred feet, at most, separated the two. He’d have to use the distance to his advantage. Bob made his way down the length of the hall and past the men’s room. He waited at the back door marked Emergency Exit until he saw the detective coming down the hallway. They made eye contact. Bob pushed the door open with his back and went through. He had entered a back hallway of the mall. An exit door led outside a hundred feet farther down the hall.

As the door was closing, the cop shouted, “Mr. Cross! Bob Cross! Stop right there!”

Bob stood on the other side of the door. In his hand was a syringe filled with ten milliliters of Xylazine, which he’d been carrying in his pocket. With his back against the wall, he waited with it ready to strike—his thumb on the plunger. The door burst open, and the detective rushed through. They made eye contact as Bob plunged the needle into the back of the detective’s neck. The cop grabbed Bob by the shoulders, and they struggled. Bob thumbed the plunger down, pushing in the fluid. The detective let go and reached for his neck. He stumbled backward and crashed to the floor of the hallway. He tried to reach for his gun, but Bob pounced on him and held his arms above his head until the drug took full effect. Within ten seconds, the cop was out. A violent coughing attack overtook Bob, and he spewed blood into the unconscious cop’s face.

Bob went through the cop’s pockets. He took his car keys, wallet, phone, and badge. He reached into the cop’s sport coat and took his service pistol from the holster under his arm. Something else was there, something useful. He took off the cop’s shirt and took the item he wanted. The detective would be out for a couple hours.

He walked down the hall and pushed each door open until he found a storage closet. He pulled the cop over and closed him inside. He left the mall out the back and walked around front.

Bob stopped in his tracks. Another problem presented itself—the Range Rover. They would be looking for the vehicle if his tail had reported what he’d been following. It was registered to his wife. They would find the house. Bob needed to get his equipment and taxi out of the garage as soon as possible. He’d leave the Range Rover at the mall.

From his pocket, he pulled the keys he’d lifted off the cop. A remote control dangled from the ring. He walked through the front of the mall’s parking lot, holding down the button until he spotted the cop’s unmarked cruiser honking its horn. He walked down the aisle and got in.

The drive back to the house was short, the stop inside even shorter. He removed the rest of the green lingerie from the house. Back in the garage, he gathered his operating tools and backed the taxi out. He pulled the detective’s car into the stall where the taxi had sat and closed the garage door. In total, it was under a five-minute stop. He thumbed on his police scanner, adjusted the volume, and drove back toward the city.

I called Detective Donner three times. He didn’t answer. I left another message and hung up. I decided to give him a few minutes to call back before calling mall security to ask if someone could try to find him. Hank tapped my door and walked into my office. “What did you get?” I asked.

“There isn’t a ton there other than the basics. No criminal history. He spent time in the Army. Honorable discharge.” He tossed a sheet of paper with the info on my desk. I picked it up and gave it a look.

“Family?” I asked.

“Records show both parents deceased. No children. He was married in 2009. Divorce finalized a couple months ago. His address is listed in Carrollwood. I found an address for a Tina Watkins, his ex-wife, out in Brandon. It’s on the sheet there.”

“Finalized a couple months ago? That doesn’t sound like reconciliation to me. Didn’t he say he moved back in there?” I found her name on the sheet. “No phone number?”

“Unlisted.”

“Wait. Where did you get the number for Cross?”

“His sheet from Pet Med Plus.”

“Was it a mobile or home?”

Hank shook his head and shrugged.

“Where is his employee sheet from Pet Med Plus?”

“Hold on. I’ll get it.”

Hank left my office to retrieve the sheet. He walked back in a few seconds later and passed it to me.

I looked it over. It was a Brandon phone number. I grabbed my desk phone and dialed it. No one answered after multiple rings. A voicemail told me I’d reached Tina Watkins. I hung up. “He answered at the home number for his ex-wife.”

“So he has been staying there,” Hank said.

“Donner tailed him out to Brandon. If he was going back to Carrollwood, he wouldn’t have driven all the way out there to go to a mall.”

I looked over at the clock—7:06 p.m. “What the hell is Donner’s deal? It’s not like him to not report back. Is the captain still in his office?”

Hank looked out my door. “Yeah, he’s still in there.”

“Go tell the Cap what we just talked about. Tell him I can’t get a hold of Donner. See what he wants to do.”

Hank nodded and walked out.

The files from the two dead women lay scattered across my desk. We still didn’t even have an identity on the woman found alive. I took the paper Hank had given me and tossed it on top of the rap sheet I had on Bob Cross. I leaned back in my chair and bounced a pencil on my desk. I rubbed my eyes until my vision blurred. I reached for the phone to call the mall’s security office. Something on my desk caught my eye. It was a photo of Sarah McMillian’s brand. I grabbed it and spun it toward me. I hung up the phone.

“Son of a bitch!”

I traced the outline with the pencil.

“Son of a bitch!”

I grabbed the photo and went to the captain’s office. I burst in and stuck the photo of the brand under the captain’s and Hank’s noses. “What’s that say?” I asked.

“It’s a photo of the brand with pencil scribbling around it,” Hank said.

“Read it.”

“The pencil makes it look like it says Bob.”

“With a cross inside the
O
. The damn brand says Bob Cross.”

The captain squinted and looked at the photo. He shook his head. “Shit. You can’t get a hold of Donner?”

“No. He tailed Cross to the mall in Brandon. I told him to grab him and bring him back to the station. It’s been a half hour. He hasn’t answered the phone or reported back,” I said.

“Did you call mall security?”

“I was about to when the photo of the brand caught my eye.”

“You and Rawlings get out there. Find Donner and Cross.”

“Cross said he was staying in Brandon. He answered the phone at his ex-wife’s place out there. You want us to call the Hillsborough County Sheriff’s Department to check it out?” I asked.