Page 28 of Desperation

“Sheriff,” he returned. “Here we are again.”

“Let’s hope we catch the guy this time.”

“That’s the plan.” Their exchange was cordial, but not overly friendly; not like most of Mark’s interactions. I’d observed him over the last several weeks. He was warm and jovial with most people, but flat and straightforward with my uncle. Maybe he was just being professional, but I got the impression he didn’t like Hank.

“Glad your team is back on board. Our resources are just spread too thin in this county. Response times are down across the board. I’m hoping to hire a few more deputies this year.”

“Understandable. We’re happy to help.” Hank gave him a stiff nod and returned to his vehicle. I got the feeling he wasn’t glad at all, and I was determined to find out what beef had gone down between him and my boss.

“So you and the sheriff are old friends?” I probed after my uncle left. Mark shot me an unamused look.

“Old acquaintances,” he corrected.

He turned to walk around the side of the building, and I followed. We needed to do another walkthrough of the grounds anyway. I took the opportunity to keep digging.

“How long have you known each other?” His jaw ticced almost imperceptibly. Jackpot.

“Since the beginning. When Jackson started Cole Security, we got to know a lot of the local law enforcement. Sheriff Wilder wasn’t a fan of us. He’d been a Marine and didn’t like the idea of a bunch of former SEALs encroaching on his territory.”

I scowled. “How were you encroaching on his territory?”

“We weren’t.” He shot me an exasperated look. “He didn’t seem to understand our purpose and that we weren’t here to replace him.”

“I see.”

“He probably had his girlfriend stolen by a SEAL once and has held a grudge ever since. It happens a lot.” He shrugged and chuckled. We continued walking, looking for weak spots and places the security cameras might not cover. “How long haveyouknown the sheriff?”

“All my life.” He looked at me inquisitively.

“He’s my uncle.”

Shock registered on his face. “Oh.”

“By marriage,” I elaborated. “His ex-wife is my dad’s sister.”

“Has he always been so calculated and overbearing?” It was my turn to laugh.

“You noticed that too, huh?”

“You’d have to be blind not to.”

“He’s been like that for as long as I can remember.” We finally completed our loop and stepped inside so Mark could finalize some details with the man who hired us.

The next night I was back for surveillance. We operated in teams of two: one man on the roof and one watching from the shadows. Our main focus was the door thieves had targeted both times, but we did a sweep of the entire property at least once every hour. Extra cameras and motion sensors had been installed. There was millions of dollars’ worth of inventory in this building, and the owner was willing to spare no cost to protect it.

My first several shifts were quiet, not even a single noise to be investigated or animal triggering the alarm. When I returned after a couple nights off, everything changed.

I was finishing my hourly sweep when I noticed something was off. I crouched down, inspecting the dirt along the side of the building. It was just slightly damp and cold, but not cold enough to freeze, creating the perfect conditions to leave shoe prints. The moon was full and bright, offering enough light to thoroughly inspect the perfectly delineated set of tracks. They came from boots, a size or two smaller than mine, and they weren’t here prior to my last lap around the building.

I switched on my flashlight and followed the tracks right up to the door. It was unlocked, the light that usually glowed red now a bright green. I pulled it open quickly but silently, afraid the lock would re-engage automatically. The only way to unlock this door was with a six digit code or a master key. I considered that an employee or the boss had come back for something they’d left here, but my gut told me otherwise. It was the middle of the night. No one had a reason to be here this late. When I stepped inside, the room was dim, the only illumination coming from a few security lights. Skids of wooden crates filled the large area, and my eyes scanned the room for anything that looked out of place. I needed to let my partner know where I was, but using the walkie would be too loud. If there was someone in here, I didn’t want to alert them to my presence just yet.

I was reaching for my phone when I saw a dark object bolt between two stacks of crates. Abandoning that thought, I crept further into the building, keeping my back to the crates, glancing around the corner before silently rushing to the next. A faint cracking splintered through the stillness, and a low curse rumbled out of the trespasser. I followed the sound, locating its source around the second stack and stepped out into the aisle, shoulders squared and gun raised.

“Stop right there,” I instructed, and the man froze. He was wearing riding boots and dark jeans, his back covered in black leather. I couldn’t make out the emblem in the low light, but it was definitely a cut, most likely from one of the local MCs. “Put the weapon down and place your hands behind your head.” He began to lower his weapon, and I let out a pent-up breath, relieved that he was complying. But instead of lying his weapon on the ground, he bolted, diving into the aisle between stacks. I lowered my weapon and took off after him, staying in the lane I’d crept down. A flash of darkness passed by me when there was a break in the stacks. We were both sprinting for the door, and if I was going to beat him, I had to stay in this aisle. Cutting across to tackle him would waste precious seconds I didn’t have.

There were several empty feet of space separating the door from the first row of crates. I didn’t see the perpetrator when I cleared the stacks so I assumed he’d beaten me to the door, my pace hindered by my injury. My thigh burned from the exertion but I couldn’t let that stop me. I ran out into the night, my gaze darting from side to side, searching for movement. He was nowhere to be found. It was like he had disappeared into thin air. I pulled out my walkie to alert the man on the roof of what just happened and turned to find the butt of a rifle inches from my head.

Chapter Twenty-Two

---