High Risk by G.K. Parks (thriller book recommendations txt) 📗

around the area. The responding officers had done a good job containing the scene. Too bad they hadn’t arrived sooner to stop the killer. But why hadn’t LockBox sent more than two guards to make the pickup? Armored trucks had three, sometimes four, men inside when it came to large pickups and deliveries like this. One always stayed inside the truck to call for help.

I peered into a nearby dumpster, unsure what I expected to find, but all I saw was trash. So I moved on, farther from the dispensary and the crime scene. How far could the killer have gotten? Even though he didn’t score hundreds of millions or even millions, he probably picked up several thousand dollars, maybe more. That would be heavy, especially in those sealed cash boxes the guards had wheeled out.

The killer must have had a getaway vehicle waiting. He must have parked close to the dispensary. Dialing LockBox, I waited for someone to answer. Before the call was transferred to someone in charge, an armored SUV pulled up beside my car. The LockBox insignia had been stenciled on the doors, and two men who looked like they should have been extras in a spy thriller stepped out of the vehicle.

Two officers stopped them at the police tape, and I came up behind them. “I’m Detective DeMarco. Who are you, gentlemen?”

“Leslie Tatem and Nicholas Pandori,” one of the men said. He didn’t offer his hand. Instead, he stared at the tarp over my shoulder. “Have you IDed them yet?”

I nodded. “Case Jeffers and Alan Croft.”

“Damn.”

Pandori swallowed and removed his sunglasses. Tears were in his eyes. “Do you know what happened?”

“We’re working on it. Why did LockBox send a truck with only two guards?”

“Two?” Tatem shook his head. “No way.” He held up his fingers. “Three.”

Pandori studied the scene but made no attempt to cross the tape. “You didn’t find Lindsey?”

“Lindsey?” I asked.

“Lindsey Rook.” Pandori bit his upper lip. “That means he might still be alive, right?”

“Who’s Lindsey Rook?” I repeated, not wanting to give him false hope.

“He works with us,” Tatem said. “He liked to drive. Used to be a school bus driver but said this was better. He always joked if he’d had the gun back then, the brats on the bus might have behaved themselves.”

“Does Lindsey have any outstanding debts? Personal issues?” I asked.

Pandori scowled at me. “You think someone from LockBox is involved?”

“I’m just trying to find out what happened. Right now, my priority is locating your friend. He could be hurt or worse. Anything you say can only help the situation.”

Pandori didn’t look convinced, and he eyed Tatem. Tatem blew out a breath. “Of course, Detective DeMarco. We’d be happy to answer any questions you have, but Lindsey’s an upstanding guy. One of the best guys I know. He’s the guy you’d want watching your back if you were pinned down in a firefight.”

“So you think he got out of the truck to help Jeffers and Croft?”

“You bet your ass,” Tatem said. “LockBox received a garbled radio transmission hours ago, but we couldn’t make heads or tails out of it. Less than an hour later, the police contacted us with the news. I’m guessing Lindsey called it in, but it didn’t go through.”

“They probably used jammers,” Fennel said, stepping up beside me. He introduced himself to the two men. “Excuse us, gentlemen.” Fennel grabbed my elbow and steered me away from them. “9-1-1 just received a call about a body fifteen blocks from here. According to the caller, two security guards stripped the man down to his skivvies, shot him in the chest, and headed down to the train station. Dispatch has already advised the metro cops to be aware of active shooters in the area. We need to move. Now.”

Fifteen

“Shit.” Carter sucked down a few breaths. The world had dimmed around him.

“Stop being such a pussy.” Diego tossed the man’s shirt to him. “Put that on.”

Carter shoved one arm through the sleeve and then the other. With trembling hands, he tucked the too large shirt into the too short pants and went to work on the buttons.

“Hurry it up,” the third man hissed. He had already opened the first lockbox and emptied the cash into a duffel bag. Now, he filled the second bag with the cash from the second lockbox. “It’s taking you longer to dress than it took me to get the boxes open.”

“So what?” Carter asked, shaking his head from side to side in the hopes of getting the world to right itself. “You stole this guy’s keys. How hard is it to stick a key in the hole?”

“How hard is it to dress yourself?” the third man retorted.

“I don’t understand why I have to wear this.” Carter finished with the buttons but felt the wet bloodstain at the tip of the collar. Hopefully, no one would notice that. That’s why Diego had waited to shoot the guard, instead of killing him the moment he stepped foot outside the armored truck.

“I don’t understand a lot of things.” The third man tossed the second duffel over his shoulder and got out of the car. They already wiped the vehicle as best they could. It wouldn’t link back to them, but the dead guard’s head wound had left a stain on the floormat. Instead of worrying about it, the third man hoped it would lead the police on another wild goose chase to track the car’s origin and give him and his team more time to escape. “Namely, why the armored truck was empty.” He slammed the door. “Care to explain that to me, Carter?”

Carter gulped. “Huh-how should I know?”

“You’re the one who said it’d be filled to the brim. You said it’d be there forty-five minutes before it showed up. Let me see your phone.