A New Age Mystery Comes to Life Pt. 01

I was already engrossed in the thinner file but I nodded my assent for more coffee. Oddly, the thinner file was the first incident, which was over a week old by now. Part of that was the lack of any information on the missing driver added to the information on the weapons, which the Feds were handling. When she set a cup of coffee next to me, I was just beginning the thicker folder. Most of the paper was initial accident reports. We could work our way through those details later. Right now, I was looking for the basic information on who, what, and where. Then we could start asking the questions we needed to find answers for.

When she refilled my coffee cup a second time, I was finished with skimming through the second file and was frowning. She said, "Before you get too deep in thought, tell me how you approach something like this."

That broke my train of thought for a moment and it briefly irritated me because I wasn't used to being interrupted. "I...ummm...I never really analyzed how I approach a problem like these. I guess I started in the Army. We would be sent to a place with almost no information; so, we walked in cold. The senior guy would track down the people involved and get their stories. Another guy would try to find any witnesses. They left me to survey the scene. Sometimes, it was just an isolated area and sometimes it might be a city block or a farm. First, I would stand back and look at the scene as a whole and try to visualize what might have happened. I was just guessing but sometimes things just stood out clearly. Then I would go to each of the key spots I identified and looked more closely at them. I would take pictures if there were some obvious things like bullet casings and stuff. They tended to disappear quickly. After that, I started asking myself questions. If I found an answer, I was happy. If not, I went back and asked the question a different way until I found something that made sense. So that's mostly it I guess. The main thing is that the bad guys don't leave a lot of obvious things. You have to sort through a lot of details and try to fit the pieces together. Unlike the movies, the answers are usually the simplest and most obvious ones. People generally aren't smart or careful enough to really be deceptive."

For the first time, Glenda had a frown on her face but it wasn't a frown of dissatisfaction but one of contemplation. I could see that she was doing exactly what I had described. She was asking herself questions about the process we needed to do.

When she came out of her introspection, she smiled and asked, "What's next then?"

"Since I am too lazy to get up, label that board the Gun Ship and that one the Drug Runner and let's start listing what we know."

"The broad picture, right?"

"Show off." She grinned in reply as she wrote on the boards. Thankfully, her handwriting was much more legible than mine. When that was done, I opened the thin folder and said, "Truck: 1972 Chevrolet pickup, white...no description of the engine. License plate: Current year Arkansas. Hmmm...No indication of where the inspection sticker was from. We need to find that out. The truck was westbound suggesting that it came from the north or east."

"Why north?"

"The east is obvious but it could have come down from the north and turned west. It is possible that it came from the south and turned west but unlikely. There isn't much to the south for almost 300 miles. Which leads to something we need to check. We need to see how full the fuel tanks are on each truck. If they are close to empty, they might have been close to their destination. If they were full, they probably gassed up in town. We can try to trace where. If they are half full, then they expected to get to their destination or the next gas station soon."

She looked surprised. "I never would have thought about that but you are right."

"Overseas, they don't have gas stations every fifty or so miles. In most places over there, people carry a gas can just in case. You sort of put your mind into the head of the driver and determine where he might have come from and how far he intended to go. You might be totally wrong but it is a start."

We repeated the process with the other truck, which had much more information available. We now had the bare bones written on the wall but I could see a lot of blanks that we needed to fill in. Glenda stepped back and scanned over the things on the wall. I asked, "So what stands out to you?"

She was frowning in thought again. "There isn't a lot to work with except for what you already mentioned. I mean they are both older trucks with a hidden compartment built into the bed. What are you seeing that I'm not?"

"The only major thing is the obvious one you just mentioned. Both of the trucks are both seventies models. One was a Ford and one was a Chevy. That isn't too odd because there are a lot of old trucks still running. What kind of gives me a tingle is that they are both forty plus years old and still running strong enough for highway driving and they both have modified beds. That could be a coincidence or the start of a pattern. Where are they now? We need to take a closer look at both of them."

"The Chevy is in the impound yard and the Ford is still on the transport truck at the wrecker service."

"Then let's go have lunch and take a visit to both places."

She grinned, "Whose buying?"

I met her grin with my own. "You're driving so I am buying and I won't take any argument from you over it!"

"Do I look like someone who would argue over a free lunch?"

"You are a woman, aren't you? You'd argue about which day of the week it was if you could."

"Ok, then you can buy lunch on any day that ends in a "Y."

"Fine and you are the permanent chauffer."

"I already figured that. Let's go." She headed for the door as I shuffled my way slowly. The desk chair was actually very comfortable but my body resented my efforts to stretch and walk. It was then that I saw the importance of having a direct access to the parking lot. She told me the door code and we walked out directly to a new SUV parked by the door. It was painted in our colors. She smiled and asked, "Do you like it?"

"Shoot yes. Whose is it? Rick's?"

"No, it is ours. I mean it is for the Forensic Department. That is us."

"I guess that means I need to thank Rick. That will be hard."

She grinned, "You can thank Marla. She is the one who sold him on the idea."

It took me a moment before I responded, "That means that you put her up to it."

"Well...I might have suggested it to her once."

"Uh huh. That's what I thought. Thank you. This will be great for now and then it will be even better to work out of later."

"That's what I thought too. I already got some things loaded into it like the cameras and some tools. You take a look later and I'll get anything else we need."

"Are you always this perfect?" She turned beet red. "Sorry, that was a dumb question. You did really good work."

"Thanks. Um...Thomas, I..."

"Hey, you don't need to explain anything to me. I crossed a line here."

"No, you didn't. You have been a perfect gentleman and I haven't given you much about me to work with." She took a deep breath and let it out. "I came from a pretty dysfunctional family down south. From the time I first entered high school, I knew that my goal in life was to get out of there and find a safe place to live and work. Criminal Justice was kind of natural because my brothers and father were constantly in trouble. I earned a scholarship to the university and worked my ass off to graduate in three years. I had no social life at all. Then I was hired by the department and went through the academy where I had to work just as hard. The guys teased the hell out of me and I had to bust my ass to compete with them in almost everything." She paused.

"Glenda, you don't have to explain and justify anything to me. You have proven yourself many times over already."

"That is what I am trying to say. I know that the others call me The Glenda like I am some kind of robot or something. The only people who have really treated me like a person have been you and Rick. I...I don't want you to think of me as perfect. I am trying to learn and build a career for myself. I guess you can say that I am still running away from where I came from and trying to find where I need to go to."

Suddenly this perfect woman was a human being in my eyes and potentially a fragile one to boot. It also dawned on me that in my present physical state and related mental condition, I might not be the best person for her to look to for guidance. I felt that I needed to have a chat with Marla before Saturday.

She was silent for a few moments and then her perky personality returned. "How does Italian for lunch sound?"

"As long as it isn't from a can or a box, that sounds delightful. My diet recently has been based on the minimal amount of effort to provide the minimal amount of nutrition."

"You need a woman to take care of you."

"The line for that job is short, very short. Are you volunteering?"

"From the hours of 7 in the morning until 4 or 5 in the afternoon, yes."

I was about to make a tacky retort but decided not to. "Then lead me to the best Italian place with the maximum amount of food and nutrition." We both grinned at each other but silently acknowledged that there was an unspoken wall being built between us. In an uncharacteristic thought, I silently said to myself, "Dammit, I don't want another wall between me and someone else."

We rode to the restaurant in silence but we were busily trying to sort through a wide range of conflicting thoughts and emotions. Somewhere in there was room to reconcile the things that would keep us apart but neither of us knew how to reach out to the other one.

We each ordered lunch and basically poked at it for a moment before I put my fork down and said, "Glenda, I am sorry. I haven't been in a good place physically for quite a while and an even worse place mentally for longer than that. You sort of burst into my life today and I don't think I handled that very well. So, can we go back about an hour and try to get back to where we were. I like you. I appreciate what you have done for me even if I didn't know anything about it. I am not used to people taking care of me. I guess I will make you a lousy partner. Don't let me do that. Tell me when I cross a line. Make me respect you in a way that supports you. Can you do that?"

She was busily stirring her pasta as I spoke and then put her fork down. "Thomas," she paused for several seconds before deciding to say what she needed to say. "Thomas, I have a problem trusting men in general. Since I joined the department, I have been able to survive by keeping my distance and staying in my professional mode. The opportunity to work with you on forensic investigations was too appealing to me and the fact that you were still recovering gave me a false sense of security. I apologize for that. I am afraid to get close to you but you are making it too easy for me to do just that. It scares me a little. Can you be patient with me and let me explore some new territory?"

"I get the strange feeling that both of us are scared stiff of finding out if we can get close to each other. I think that we both need to practice patience with each other and not get too excited if the other one screws up."

We looked at each other in the eyes and saw ourselves mirrored in the other one's look. For some unexplained reason, that gave us confidence since we weren't really moving into new territory; we were just rearranging things that we were already familiar with. Glenda smiled and offered, "Truce. No more probing; we will just work together and learn as we go."

"I'm a slow learner. You'll have to be more patient than me."

"That's bullshit and you know it. Eat. You're paying for this ridiculously expensive meal."

"Ah...the plot thickens, he thinks; she is baring her fangs and sharpening her claws. Will she go directly for the jugular or toy with him and make him suffer? That is the question."

She burst out laughing at my poor imitation of a third-rate suspense writer. Finally, she added, "Suffer!" With that, we finished our slightly cold pasta and garlic toast.

The drive to the wrecker company took twenty minutes and as she had said, the wreck was still on the carrier. I grimaced when I realized that I would have to climb up to the deck to see what I wanted to see. Glenda picked up on my difficulty and said, "You need to get up there, don't you?"

"Yes, but that isn't to say that I don't trust you or your eyes. It is just that sometimes you glance at something and it triggers something else."

"I understand. Let me see if they have a ramp to get you up there." She returned a few minutes later with a man driving a forklift with a pallet. "I got us an elevator instead." She smiled.

"You are really good, Glen." Me calling her Glen made her smile grow even more.

We had to move slowly around the wreck because there was less than a foot between the side of the truck and the edge. We each took a number of pictures overall but focused more attention on the bed and the sub-floor that had been exposed. I also took measurements of the box and the truck bed. It appeared to be a welded aluminum frame with plastic sheeting screwed on the top, bottom, and sides. The total weight of the frame was probably little more than one hundred pounds but it would hold twenty-four cubic feet of material in double bags. That was a lot of cocaine by anyone's measurement.

As I looked carefully at what was showing, I began to get an idea of something bigger than a simple drug delivery going on even for the volume involved. After an hour, Glenda and I climbed back in the van and headed for the impound yard to look at the abandoned truck. As we drove, I asked, "What did you read into what we saw?"

Glenda replied, "The obvious thing was that it could move a lot of dope. If the bed hadn't been dislodged, a casual inspection would never suspect that anything was there. The one thing that bothers me is why they used an old truck. It was probably cheaper to buy but probably needed some work to get it running. A newer truck would probably be more reliable and cost about the same. Did I miss something?"

"No, you saw what was there. There are a couple of details that you probably don't realize though. The older trucks used more steel in the frame and weighed more. Adding some weight for the box and cargo probably wouldn't be noticeable even on a scale. It would also create a stronger frame to hold the box. These older trucks also had more space under the bed. They intended to carry a lot of weight and the shocks held the bed higher. There would be more room for the cage. We'll look at a newer truck at the impound yard and you can see. The main thing I noticed was that the box was very carefully designed and built. I want to see if this other one was built the same way. If so, then we might have related cases. If not, there might be some plans floating around on the bad guy Internet."

I could tell that Glenda was absorbing everything I had said. Some of it was new to her because of lack of experience but that was quickly overcome by her very quick mind. She seemed to absorb things like a sponge. I appreciated that about her. Too many men relied on a limited amount of information and quickly drew conclusions that they would stick by regardless of any new information that came to light.

As soon as we pulled into the impound lot, I saw the teaching moment sitting along the fence. "Pull over there for a minute. I want to show you something." When we got out of the truck, I led her towards a ten-year old truck. "Notice that all of the newer trucks have more stuff on them that obscures the underside of the bed. You can't really see what is under them. If you squat down, you can see a little. See where the bottom of the frame and bed sit? They designed them tighter and with less space between the axles and frame. There isn't much room for a hidden bed. Now this older truck here is about thirty-years old and you can have a better look underneath. You have about a foot clearance there. If I were going to put together a fleet of smuggling trucks, I could put one of those hidden boxes in there and beef up the suspension a little. The truck is cheaper, you can hide the box, and it would cause little attention."

"That is one of those things that you don't read about in textbooks, that is for sure."

"You just hit the nail on the head. People who have a lot of a certain kind of experience write the textbooks. Never forget that the bad guys aren't really stupid. Some of them are very smart and know what we are taught in school. They figure out a different way to solve their problems. One of the things I have had to do is train myself is to look at what is in front of me and work with that. If you expect to find something, you will usually find what you expect and might very well miss something important. Let's go take a look at this Ford and see what we can see."

We walked slowly towards the older model truck sitting in the set-aside yard. Glenda noticed that I moved slowly but seemed to be in less pain and discomfort. She must have wondered if I was loosening up or if my adrenalin was pushing me past the discomfort level. I didn't think about or know that I was doing something different.

Before we could get in the set-aside yard, we each had to sign in and show our credentials. The guy in charge knew me from other visits but Glenda was new to him and he took advantage of the moment to look closely at the prettiest officer he had ever seen.

This truck was easier to access since it was still whole. The other one had been hit in the truck bed, which was what caused the hidden box to be exposed. On this truck, the only way you could tell that something was different was to lower the tailgate and the top edge of the hidden box was exposed. It took a moment before I realized that the tailgate assembly was also hinged and could be dropped down. That would make a quick and easy way to load and unload the hidden box. I took measurements and pictures and discovered that it also had an aluminum frame but with aluminum sides and top and bottom. Glenda observed everything I did without asking any questions. She also checked the inspection sticker and the gas tank along with the VIN number.

When I was finished, I stood up with a frown firmly set on my face. She asked, "OK, you have seen something. What?"

"The main thing is that this is more sophisticated than you might think. Look at this hinged back. That took a lot of thinking and work to do it well. The frame is aluminum but the sides are different. I am beginning to think that something fairly sophisticated is going on with this one. There isn't enough right now to link the two but there might be something bigger than a simple smuggling ring going on."

"So, what is next?"

"I think Rick called it right, we need to look at the history of both trucks and see where they have been registered and who owned them. Then we will probably take a road trip and visit some of the locations. Somewhere, sometime, both of these trucks had some serious work done on them. That is what we need to find out."

"It is four thirty. Back to the office or home? How are you feeling?"

It dawned on me that I hadn't thought much about my aches and pains since lunch. "I feel really good right now but a dollar says that I overdid it today. I'll probably pay for it tomorrow. But let's call it a day and get on the computers tomorrow."

"Sounds good to me. Do you have something for dinner or do you want to pick something up?"

"For one or two?"

She smiled, "Tonight, just one. I am meeting a girlfriend for dinner tonight."