Hostile Witness (Sanctuary, Inc. #1)

Chapter 37

37

T wo Suburbans loaded with officers met Earl at the end of Harlan’s long, winding driveway. They strategized for a couple of minutes and finalized their plan. There’d been no mention on the police scanner just in case the suspect was listening to their frequency, and they drove in without lights and sirens.

Earl led the way up the lane while Harlan’s hounds barked and chased them to the barn. Damn dogs could’ve woken a bear in hibernation with their racket.

The officers fanned out, surrounding the garage. The brand-new white car Harlan had referenced was not on-site. Earl nodded to the two detectives perched on the bottom of the stairs. They ran the stairs and slithered against the building at the top. One of them peered in. The open floorplan efficiency showed no signs of activity.

Earl slid the key in the lock and turned. The door banged open with a helpful nudge from one of the officers. They cleared each closet, the bathroom, and under the bed.

“Okay, fellas. We missed him, but we’ve still got a search warrant. I want this place dusted for prints and picked over for any kind of evidence you can find about the person living here.”

Earl scanned the apartment for the bag of dirty clothes Harlan had mentioned. To his annoyance, it wasn’t there now. But he did locate a single military-issue dark-blue sock under the bed, and in a little crawl space storage area, he found a pair of size-nine ladies’ Nikes. Earl bagged them for evidence. He’d bet his next paycheck they belonged to Margie Plante, but he’d been wrong before.

They searched the garage below for the lights Harlan had spoken about. No lights but they did find bits and pieces of cut automotive wires and cable ties in the driveway. They bagged it all.

Earl pulled out a fast-food bag with a dozen burgers in it. He gave a whistle for the hounds, who’d parked their hides on Harlan’s front porch. The dogs bounded toward him with their tongues lolling.

“Aw, geez, Sergeant, you brought us lunch,” joked one of the rookies.

“Dream on, Son... these are for the hounds.” Earl unwrapped the warm burgers. “I can’t let Harlan come back until we know who he’s got living here. These burgers are a lure to get the dogs in the vehicle. We’ll board them at Bayside Animal Hospital and put Harlan up at a hotel in town for a day or two.”

Earl let the friendliest hound sniff his hand and then he tossed one burger into the back seat. It landed on Nelson’s lap. The dog leaped in and snatched it. One by one, Earl got them all in the back of the Suburban with his rookie, who was getting tail slapped, licked, and crotch inspected by the dogs. Earl slammed the door shut and assumed his position in the driver’s seat.

“Hey, Sergeant, why do I have to sit back here with these dogs? We could’ve just called a K9 unit, and they would’ve picked them up for us,” Nelson shouted.

“Because the closest K9 unit is an hour away and you and I are going to have a private chat, that’s why. I have it on good authority that you closed down the Tidal Lounge last night after last call, rookie. You were soggy as a bartender’s towel after mop-up. Then you got a cab home sometime around four in the morning. Am I right?”

“Yeah.” Nelson elbowed the dog that was licking his face.

“You started work today at oh seven hundred. There is no way your system was clear of that liquor before your shift started. You put our team at risk because your head was still foggy when you arrived at work. You need to log it in your brain that when you man the early shift, you should be in bed by ten o’clock and have already poked your woman. Do I make myself clear, rookie?”

“My personal time is my own, thank you very much,” Nelson retorted, protecting his face from the wagging tails.

Earl threw the vehicle in park and turned around. “Oh yeah? Well, I just claimed a little more of your personal time on Saturday to help you develop your work ethic during our workout. You got a couple hundred burpees coming at you.”

Nelson gave an exasperated sigh. “All right, Sergeant. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Earl nailed him with a stare in the rearview mirror. He tossed the bag of burgers over his shoulder. “Good. I’m glad we’re in agreement now. Please finish feeding the dogs.”

Earl waited patiently for a flock of chickens to cross the driveway before he drove off. For all he knew, this raid might lead to another dead end. But eventually they would find the slippery bastard impersonating a cop, and Margie Plante’s murderer. If that happened to be the same person... even better.

The hard part was getting it done before anyone else got hurt.