Page 102 of Deathmarch
A door creaked open somewhere nearby. “I don’twantto hear you, bitch! Shut up, or I’ll make you shut up!”
Wooden stairs thundered under the man’s feet.
* * *
The crisis team, Harper, Chase, Mike, Joe, and Gabi, met at the B and B because Allie had been kidnapped from there. Shannon was there too, of course, since it was her place, and two more civilians: Kennan and Murph. They’d volunteered. Considering Kennan’s US Marine training and Murph’s Army and law enforcement experience, Harper had gratefully accepted their offer of help.
They spread out in the dining room, with Shannon making sandwiches and keeping the coffee flowing.
“Do you have a camera in the back?” Murph asked.
“Just one,” Shannon said, her eyes red rimmed. “Over the old garage in the rear. The camera watches the back of the house. I figured if anyone broke in, it’d be through there, not standing at the front door, in plain view of Main Street.”
Should have been sufficient,Harper thought.More than sufficient.Most people didn’t even lock their doors in Broslin. “Let’s start with the footage.”
“Hang on.” Shannon hurried off to the back and brought her laptop from her office, then queued it up. “It saves to the cloud.”
They crowded around the table’s corner to watch the recording.
“Hold on,” she said again, and showed off her tech skills by casting the video to the TV in the corner. And when she caught Mike’s surprised expression, she added, “I might not be a spring chicken, but I’m not computer illiterate. I can’t afford to be. I’m a business owner.”
Harper moved closer to the TV, and so did the others.
The footage showed empty blacktop and nothing else.
“Guest parking,” Shannon said and sped up the video.
When it showed movement at last, she reset it to normal speed.
“The bread truck,” Kennan and Harper said at the same time.
“I don’t get bread delivery.” Shannon shook her head. “Even when I have a full house, in season, I only provide breakfast. It’s nothing I can’t buy at the store myself.”
“We saw this truck at the pub earlier,” Harper told her, looking at his brother.
“We didn’t have any bread delivered today either.” Kennan leaned closer to the screen. “License plate is covered with mud, but I’m pretty sure it’s the same truck from earlier. When Allie’s ex grabbed her, he was parked behind this bread truck. Not our delivery guy, but I didn’t think anything of it. Delivery drivers stop by for food all the time. Doesn’t mean they’re dropping stuff off.”
They watched the driver, what they could see of him. The sun visor was down, covering half his face. He wore a dark hoodie, so his hair didn’t show anyway. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes. Stubble hid his face and chin.
“The Unabomber?” Mike asked dubiously.
Whoever he was, he was aware of the camera and kept his chin down as he backed the truck against the B and B. He left the driver-side door open so it’d block the camera from seeing more than his feet as he hurried to gain entry into the building.
“Do you keep the back door locked?”
Shannon nodded.
“He probably jimmied the lock,” Mike suggested.
Whatever was happening, the large truck blocked it from view. Ten minutes passed before the guy, head down, features hidden once again, slipped back behind the wheel and drove away.
“You think this is related to Zane Griffin?” Chase asked. “Want me to drive back to West Chester and question him about the bread truck? See if he brought a friend to help?”
“Let’s hold off on that.” Harper’s mind raced. “I don’t think the kidnapper is connected to Zane.” Although he wished it were otherwise, because if Zane knew anything, at least Harper would have a chance to pry information out of the little shit. “The note the kidnapper left saysthe girl for the gold. I think it’s related to Chuck Lamm’s murder.”
“But other than the police,” Mike scratched his chin, “nobody knows about the gold, except for the members of Lamm’s club. We didn’t release that piece of information. Wasn’t in the papers.”
“The killer knows too,” Harper said. The killer who’d stolen the gold and now wanted it back. Half a million dollars was a hell of a motive.
