Boosted Pt. 07

He rolled to the curb and stopped in front of a small house, the white paint peeling and faded. The yard was full of weeds, and there was a tired and faded bronze or brown Camry sitting in the drive. As he approached, he could hear a game show blaring inside the house. He clipped his badge to his belt and then knocked loudly on the door to be heard over the television.

"Who is it?" a wheezy voice called from inside.

"Sean McGhee, Brunswick Police Department. Please open the door."

There was a long pause then the television went silent. After a moment, the door opened until the safety chain caught. An elderly woman, perhaps seventy, with wild white hair, peeked through the crack. "Yes?" she asked, keeping the door between her and Sean as if she were afraid he was going to kick the door in.

"I'm looking for Jasper Kohler. Is he home?"

"He don't live here no more."

"Do you know where I can find him?"

"No."

She was lying, but he wasn't sure if she was lying about Cotton not being home, not living there, or claiming to not to know where he was. He pulled a card from his holder and passed it through the door. "If you see Mr. Kohler, please give him my card and ask him to call me. I'd like to speak to him about a theft."

He held the card out until the woman slowly took it. He hated intimidating the woman, but he continued to stand on her small porch, waiting for her to speak again. "If I see him, I'll give him the card," she finally said.

"Thank you, ma'am. Have a nice day."

He turned and walked to his car as the door slowly clicked shut. It was anybody's guess if Cotton would ever see the card, and he wasn't so naïve to think Cotton would call him even if he did, but he was pretty sure word would get to him that the po-po was looking for him. That was enough for now. When he got back to the station, he'd issue a BOLO for Cotton. It was time for him to start applying some pressure to see what might break loose.

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EIGHTEEN

Sean wanted to go back to Maggie's, but it was time for him to host. She'd been a real sport by letting him spend almost a week at her house, but it was time he returned to his apartment. He smiled to himself as he peeled potatoes. Maggie's house was starting to feel more like home than his apartment.

When he first moved to North Carolina he wanted to buy a little house on some land. His house in Boston barely had any yard at all, and he wanted a riding mower. Since meeting Maggie, he wasn't as anxious to buy, and Maggie's house met all his criteria. It was about the right size, it was sitting on three acres of land, and it was out in the county surrounded by fields and trees. Her house was older, built in the eighties she said, but it was well maintained and new enough to have all the modern amenities. Not like his 1920's house in Boston, with its inadequate plumbing, substandard electrical system, too little closet space, and the seemingly never-ending series of little problems.

Her style was a little too southern country for his taste, but she'd been updating and renovating the place a little bit at a time, and he liked the hardwood floors and modern kitchen. He also liked that she let him use her big, green and yellow, zero turn mower. He didn't think he'd ever get tired of playing on that thing. Maggie's house also offered one more thing that no other house could, and that was her. If it were his house, he'd have to make some changes in paint and wallpaper, but since she liked it as it was, he didn't mind it either. His smile grew slightly. Funny how it worked like that. He turned at the sound of the door opening.

"You're here," he said as he washed the potato.

She accepted his kiss. "Did you think I wasn't coming?"

"No. I'm glad you're here, that's all."

"Smells good. What's for dinner?"

"Meatloaf and mashed potatoes. It should be ready in about thirty, thirty-five minutes," he said as he quartered the potato and added it to the pot heating on the stove.

"Yum!"

He smiled. When he made meatloaf, he served it with brown gravy poured over both the meatloaf and the potatoes. Maggie's meatloaf had a slightly tangy ketchup-based topping and she typically served hers with buttered new potatoes. Both were good and were quick and easy to prepare. Since she left work at three-thirty, and he worked until five, he typically made meals he could throw together quickly when it was his turn to cook.

"I think I found out who took my safe," he said as he added salt to the potato water.

"Great! Who?"

"A street punk named Cotton. No proof, but Pickerling ID'd him from some of his movements."

"Enough to arrest him?"

"Not even close, but I paid a visit to his house, or at least what the county thinks is his house. The old woman that answered the door said he wasn't there. Anyway, I have a BOLO for him."

"And if they find him?"

"Then Mr. Cotton and I are going to have a chat."

She grinned. "Why do I think that won't be a pleasant conversation?"

"I'll be polite."

"Polite isn't the same as pleasant."

"Okay, you got me there."

It felt odd, standing in the kitchen, talking to Maggie, without Marmalade being underfoot. Every time he started to take a step, the old habit of looking for his cat so he didn't step on him was still there. He suspected it would be a while before he stopped doing that.

While she mashed up the potatoes, adding milk, butter, salt and pepper, along with a dollop of sour cream, he prepared his secret gravy... made from a pouch. As they ate, Maggie talked about her day. She'd kicked Doug Mulford, her maintenance supervisor, in the ass and ordered him to get his inventory squared away or she'd find someone that would. She also warned him that if she ever found another piece of required equipment being horded in his office, he was going on report. Doug had been grumbling about wasting a lot of time on stupid stuff, but he was doing as she ordered. He had to work hard not to smile as she related what was going on. Sometimes people needed to be reminded who was in charge and how things were going to be done, and Maggie could kick ass when she needed too.

After dinner, they quickly loaded the dishwasher and settled down to watch a movie. Anon was right up his alley, a movie about how cybernetics implanted inside the body had rendered privacy obsolete, yet someone was killing people and then disappearing without a trace. Being a computer nerd at heart, and a cop in profession, it was his worst nightmare about the loss of privacy and the perfect crime, playing out on his television. He was really into it when his phone rang, the Hawaii Five-0 theme riffing from his phone. It was only a bit after eight, far too early for the call to be about BIGS. Probably. He paused the movie and picked up his phone, his heart starting to thud in his chest.

"Sean."

"Sean, this is Kim. Jacob Manly has picked up Jasper Kohler. Do you want him brought into the station?"

He relaxed. "No. Tell him to hold Kohler at his location. I'm on my way. If Kohler won't cooperate, then yeah, detain him. Where's Manly?"

"On Hickam, between Linder and Conner."

"Got it. I'll be there in ten." He hung up and leapt to his feet. "I need to go. They've located Cotton. I shouldn't be long."

"I don't know what I think about you always running out on me in the middle of the night."

He felt a pang of guilt. "Believe me, I'd rather be here with you, but this shouldn't be long. I should be back in thirty or forty minutes." He quickly collected his weapon, put on his shoes, and then leaned over the back of the couch to kiss her upside down. She put a little extra something into it, holding his lips to hers with a hand on the back of his head. "Okay, make it twenty," he amended when the kiss dissolved. "Love you."

She giggled. "Love you too. Hurry back. I'll be waiting for you," she purred, her voice dripping promise.

He grinned, pausing at the door. "Fifteen minutes, tops!"

He hurried to his car and threw himself under the wheel. He kept his speed low in the parking lot, but once he turned on the road, he put his foot down, his Dodge whooping and bellowing as he charged through town, his emergency lights flashing. He turned on Hickam and could see the lights of Manly's cruiser flashing several blocks ahead. He pulled to a stop behind the cruiser. There were three men glaring at him as he exited his car, Manly standing beside his cruiser with a relaxed readiness.

"What the fuck is this shit?" one of the men snarled. "We wasn't doing nothing!"

"You Cotton?" Sean asked as he approached.

"Who's asking?" another of the men said. "Why are you fucking cops out here hassling us? We got rights, man!"

"Nobody has invalidated your rights."

"Barney here said we couldn't leave until you got here."

"Would you rather we do this at the station? That can be arranged." When none of the men answered, he continued. "You Cotton?"

"What if I am?"

Cotton, or who Sean assumed was Cotton, was in his late twenties or early thirties. He was thin, with long limbs and a shaved head that glowed in the dancing strobe lights of their cars. All three of the men, more or less, matched the builds of men in the video, though it was hard to be sure since they weren't wearing hoodies.

"You get my card?"

"Naw, man. What card?"

"Never mind. Know anything about a break-in at the new place in downtown?"

"Naw, man. I don't know nothing about no break-in."

"You heard anything on the street about a safe being jacked? Anyone asking for help opening one up?"

"Do I look like a safe cracker to you?"

"The only crackers I see are you two," a second man sneered.

Sean ignored the man and his comment. "So you don't know anything about a safe being stolen from the Loch and Castle about three a.m. Monday morning?"

"Naw, man, I done told you, I don't know nothing about that."

Sean prevented himself from smiling. Cotton had just made a hand motion identical to the man in the video. It was clearly unconscious, and he probably didn't even realize he'd done it. He was surer now than ever this was his man, but he couldn't arrest Cotton based on a hand gesture.

"Know anyone who might have been involved?"

"Naw, man. Why you keep asking me this shit? I told you, I don't know nothing about it!"

Sean grunted. "It's probably a good thing you weren't involved. We got it all on camera. The Ford pickup, the appliance dolly, the bar, all of it. I bet that safe was a real pain to move. It's a wonder they didn't hurt themselves. Whoever took it made a big mess in the office. They thought they were smart, wearing hoodies and gloves. I bet they were sweating like pigs inside those sweatshirts though. It looked like tempers got pretty short. I thought a fight was going to break out at one point." He paused to smile spitefully. "The thing is, they might have gotten the safe, but whoever stole it probably didn't realize how tough that thing is. They're going to have a heck of a time getting it open." He shook his head in mock sorrow. "I'll be surprised if they get it open without destroying everything inside. And what are they going to do with it after that? If they dump it and leave even a single fingerprint, hair, or piece of thread..." He shook his head again. "You wouldn't believe the things we can do now. If whoever took it has ever been arrested, we'll have them." Sean bounced slowly on his toes as the three men looked at each other. "Yep, a good thing you weren't involved."

"Yeah, well, we wasn't," Cotton said, but a lot of his bravado was missing.

Sean decided to let television do some work for him. "I had a team from County go over the whole area. Found lots of trace evidence. You know, things like fibers, metal shavings from the bar, residual rubber from the truck tires, sweat drippings, stuff like that. DNA's easy to get from sweat, and backing up to the pole to push the safe into the bed was clever, but that let us know exactly where to look for the rubber from the truck's tires." He paused for a moment, letting the men think about what he'd said. "Because it's in the corner of the lot like that, the rubber they found is likely to be from the vehicle we want. It's all being analyzed now. I should know something in a few days."

He hadn't asked County to do a forensic sweep, and even if he had, most of what he said was total nonsense that only worked in television and movies. Sometimes television made his job harder because people expected the police to be able to pull a rabbit out of a hat like they saw on TV, but this time it might actually work for him.

He pulled a card from his wallet and held it out to Cotton. "If you hear anything, give me a call." He waited, holding the card out, until Cotton took it. "You know, if I can catch the guy who planned this, I might be willing to cut a deal for the rest of the people involved. They were just muscle after all." Sean turned to Manly. "Anything else, Officer Manly?"

"No, sir."

Sean could tell Manly was enjoying himself a little too much. "Carry on then." He turned his attention back to Cotton and his pals. "Thank you for your cooperation."

Sean pivoted on his toe and walked back to his car. As Manly pulled away, he crept forward and rolled down his passenger window. "That offer of a deal is good for a limited time. If I get some proof of identity, all deals are off. If whoever was involved turns out to be friends of yours, pass that along. It might save them some jail time."

Cotton glared at him until he rolled his window up and pulled slowly away, turning off his strobes as he did. He'd give Cotton and his friends a day or so to mull that over. Maybe one of them would crack and come forward to cut a deal.

Wanting to add even more pressure, he drove to the house he'd visited earlier and pulled to a stop at the curb, turning on his strobes as he did. He slowly exited his car and glanced around, playing the hot-shot investigator to anyone watching, before walking to the house. He could hear the television blasting away inside as he knocked loudly on the door. The television became silent, and a moment later the door crept open.

"Sorry to bother you again, ma'am, but I'm still trying to locate Jasper Kohler. Have you been in contact with him?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"If you hear from him, please tell him it's vital that he contact the Brunswick Police Department. We're investigating a break-in Monday night and it's possible Jasper has information."

"Yes, officer, I will."

"Thank you again, ma'am," he said as he turned and walked back to his car.

In the flashes of his car's strobes, he could see faces peeking out of windows in a few of the surrounding houses. Having him roll up with his lights on like this should start people talking. Maybe one of them had seen something and would contact the police. Probably not, but it couldn't hurt anything to try.

He sat back in his car. "Chief? You there?" his radio squawked.

"McGhee," he said, pulling the mic from the dash and bringing it to his lips. It probably didn't hurt if anyone saw him conversing on the radio either. Maybe they would interpret it as the cops were closing in.

"Chief, this is Manly. I was about to come looking for you when you didn't answer."

"Sorry, I stepped out of my car. What can I do for you?"

"Nothing. I was following up to make sure you were okay and to let you know that was sweet."

"Ears," Sean said, reminding Manly that even though their radio traffic was encrypted, he didn't want to compromise the investigation.

"Understood."

"But you liked that?"

"Yes, sir, I did."

He smiled. Kids were so easily impressed. "Enough entertainment for this evening. I'm fine and going home."

"Okay. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

He put his car in gear and flipped off his strobes as he pulled away from the curb. He was going to be gone longer than fifteen minutes, but he'd be back within forty. Forty-two minutes after he left, he was opening the door to his apartment. The kitchen and living room were dim, with the only illumination coming from the single florescent bulb over the kitchen sink. It wasn't even nine o'clock, too early for Maggie to have gone to bed. Had she gone home? He hadn't thought to look to see if her car was in the parking lot. He softly closed the door and walked quietly to their bedroom. The bed was still neatly made.

Crushed with disappointment he returned to the main room, pulling out his phone to call her and apologize, when he saw her on the couch. In the dim light from the kitchen, she appeared to be sleeping. He approached quietly and knelt on the floor in front of her.

"Hey," he whispered, touching her on the shoulder.

Her eyes opened. "Hey. What time is it?"

"Almost nine."

She yawned and set up, blinking. "I must have gone to sleep." She continued to blink, clearly trying to drag herself back to the land of the waking.

"Are you ready for bed?"

She yawned again. "What time did you say it was?"

"About eight-fifty."

She grunted. "No. I want to finish the movie first, then bed."

"You sure?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I didn't mean to go to sleep. I didn't want to finish the movie without you, and, well, I guess..." She shrugged and then patted the couch in his normal place. He sat down and turned his television on as she snuggled in.

"I emptied the dishwasher for you while I waited," she said as he called up Netflix.

"Thanks."

"Now, where were we before you left?"

He couldn't help but smile. The opening was too perfect. "About here, I think," he said as he drew her into a kiss.

"Nice," she whispered as he pulled back, "but I meant in the movie. Back it up a little, will you?"

He backed the movie up about thirty seconds from where Netflix wanted to start, and they began watching the movie again. They finished with no more interruptions.

"What'd you think?" he asked.

"I liked it. How much of that stuff do you think is possible?"

"I don't know. It's a long way away, but is it impossible? I'd hesitate to say that. The things we're doing with computers now, people would have said was impossible fifty years ago."

She grunted. "It's kind of scary, the world they lived in."

"I know," he agreed. "Why do you think I don't have a Facebook account? Facebook is nothing but a data mining engine. I don't want that much information about me out there."

She nodded, and then smiled. "Where did you say we were right before you left?"

He smiled. "Right about here, I think," he said as he gently cupped her face in his hands and drew her lips to his.

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NINETEEN

Sean leaned back in his office chair, groaning and stretching while reaching for the ceiling. He'd conducted three interviews today, one in the morning and two in the afternoon, a task that was like driving a nail with his forehead--it felt so good when he stopped. He looked at the résumé of Ajurn Chakrabarti, a first generation American born to Indian parents. Like Machala, Ajurn was exactly what he was looking for in an officer. He was relaxed and friendly, but unlike Machala, he'd already graduated and had passed his BLET. He was currently working in Raleigh in his family's office equipment business, but he was anxious to start his career as a police officer. Ajurn was his last interview of the day. He had one more tomorrow morning, but unless--he glanced at the other résumé on his desk--Curtis McDowell blew him away, it was probably going to come down to either Machala or Ajurn. All the other candidates he'd spoken to hadn't impressed him like these two had. He paperclipped his notes to Ajurn's résumé before tucking them into the folder with Machala's notes and résumé.