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

trucks haul roughly the same amount. The killer could have followed one of the trucks on its route, estimated the score, and made plans to rob it,” I said.

“Did you check into previous employees?” Fennel asked.

“No viable leads,” Lisco said.

While Fennel shared our insights with the other two homicide detectives, I hoped the pieces would connect. But no matter how hard I stared at the data, I couldn’t figure out who would do this. The why was easy – one hundred million dollars. But we didn’t know where the killers would strike next, but I was certain they would.

I rubbed my palms together. “So if you just missed out on making bank, what would you do now?”

“Get angry and probably drunk,” Voletek said. “Then I lick my wounds and figure out how to proceed.”

“But you don’t give up?” I asked.

“If I had a winning lottery ticket, tore it up, and threw it in the trash, I wouldn’t just say, ‘tough tits’. I’d go through the trash, even if it meant scouring the entire landfill for each tiny piece that I had to tape back together.”

“Are we sure Jake isn’t helping these guys out?” Fennel teased. “It sounds like he’s pretty damn desperate for cash.”

“I was speaking metaphorically from the killers’ mindset.”

Lisco stared at the board. “If you want the money so badly, and you can’t grab it from the original source, you find another source.”

“Why go through the trouble?” Voletek asked. “The original source is dangling in front of me. I just need a better plan to get it.”

Fennel and I exchanged a glance. “Patrols are escorting the LockBox trucks on their routes. Police will be nearby to intervene,” he said.

“But not forever,” Voletek said. “Those are just temporary until we find these bastards or decide the threat has passed.” He met my eyes, the cynicism bleeding through. “Or whenever those on high decide this is a waste of money and resources and pull the plug.”

“Then we have to figure out who they are and how to stop them before that happens,” Fennel said.

Twenty

“Are you fucking insane?” Carter paced back and forth. “You’re going to get us all arrested or killed.”

The third man finished divvying up the cash they’d taken from the dispensary and zipped the last of the three duffel bags. “Fine. Take your cut and walk.” He shoved the bag across the dusty floor. “But you’re the one who knocked out that cop. That was all on you, man.”

“So what?”

“So you should have killed him,” the third man said.

“He was a cop. That’d be suicide.” Carter took off the cap, holding the bill in one hand while he tapped it against his open palm. “I don’t want to die. The entire point of this was to get enough money to disappear and start over somewhere new. To have opportunities to be someone. To be somewhere that doesn’t suck balls.”

“Did he see you?” Diego asked. He’d been quiet since their escape in the subway station.

“Who?” Carter asked.

“The cop, numbnuts,” the third man hissed. “Can he ID you?”

Carter shook his head. “No. He didn’t get a look at me. I spotted him the moment I got off the train. I knew he’d follow me, so I led him into the out of order restroom and clocked him the moment he stepped inside. Then I changed hats and jackets and walked out. He didn’t see anything.”

The third man resisted the urge to argue. “No witnesses. That’s what we agreed.”

“Yeah, we also said we were going to wait for the truck to empty out, surprise the driver, and take the cash. Why didn’t we stick with that plan?” Diego asked.

The third man whipped his gaze to his other accomplice. Until now, Diego hadn’t spoken out against any of their actions. But shooting the LockBox driver must have gotten to him. “Are you questioning my plan?”

“Damn right I am,” Diego said. “Look, today was FUBAR. We should have walked when the truck didn’t show on time. We shouldn’t have stayed. We shouldn’t have tried to salvage it by stealing from the dispensary. If we hadn’t gone in there…”

“What?” The third man stood, one hand prepared to grab the gun holstered at the small of his back. People ought to know better than to turn on him. He wouldn’t tolerate their insolence. He could carry this out himself or find others who would help.

“They wouldn’t be dead,” Carter muttered.

“They didn’t give us a choice. They would have killed us. You know that, don’t you? That’s what they do. People in uniforms have no respect for us. You’ve seen how they act. I’ve told you stories. What I’ve seen. What I’ve experienced. The things they’ve done to me. I didn’t deserve that. But that’s how they all are.” The third man’s cheek twitched, the anger boiling up inside of him.

“I’m not saying it wasn’t tough on the inside. I’ve heard horror stories about that place,” Carter said.

“It was bad,” Diego said. “But that’s what it’s like on the inside. Some of the guards are just as brutal as the inmates.” He shifted his gaze to the third man. “I had your back on the inside. And I still have your back, but these aren’t COs. The men we killed today were probably nothing more than rent-a-cops. But they saw our faces. And I can’t go back to prison. I get that we didn’t have a choice, but if we walked, none of that would have happened.” He turned to Carter. “You wouldn’t survive, man. I barely did.” He glanced back at the third man. “We barely did.”

“So now what do we do?” Carter asked. “The cops are on to us. They almost caught up to you guys at the train station.”

“But they didn’t. And I’ll die before they take