We returned to the living room. I holstered my pistol and called the county substation. I told them to send the local medical examiner and the forensic team.
"Hey, don't touch anything," I said, following Shane as he stepped into one of the bedrooms. He looked under the bed, in the closet, in drawers, in the bathroom, and the shower stall. Frantic, he searched everywhere, looking for the loot.
"What part of don't touch anything did you not understand?”
"I need to find the goods before the cops get here."
"Newsflash. We are the cops. Now you've got your fingerprints all over these drawers, and I have to explain what you're doing here."
Shane raised his hands in surrender, and I marched him back into the living room. “Stand here. Don't move. JD and I will search the rest of the bungalow. What exactly are we looking for?”
“Four black duffel bags.”
We searched, but didn't find anything. No duffel bags. No gem.
I returned to the living room.
Shane just stared at his co-conspirator. "Looks like he OD’d."
"Was he a big doper?"
Shane shrugged. "He liked his weed, whiskey, and women."
"I'm guessing the white powder killed him.”
“I’m guessing the girl he was with killed him and took the loot.“
Shane was on target.
I rummaged through Garrett's pockets, looking for his cell phone. I pulled it out and held the phone in front of his face to clear the security screen, but it didn't work.
I slid the phone back into his pocket and called Isabella. I told her Garrett was dead and asked her to see if any other cell phones had pinged the tower from this location. "I need a list of recent calls. He had company with him."
"Hang on a second," she said as her fingers tapped the keys. "I'll see what I can find out."
The sound of distant sirens warbled, drawing near.
“The last phone call Garrett made was to Brandi Maddox," Isabella said. Her fingers danced across the keys again.“Looks like she's an escort. Her website says that she offers companionship by the hour, evening, or weekend and provides a fullgirlfriendexperience." She clicked the mouse. "Brandi’s services aren't cheap, but she’s still underselling herself."
"Not anymore," I said. "I think she hit the jackpot. Can you tell me where she is now?”
32
First responders arrived, and deputies secured the area. I identified myself as a police officer and told them we were here on a welfare check. It was the simplest explanation at the time.
The crime scene photographer snapped photos, and forensic investigators went to work. The local medical examiner evaluated the body.
I stepped aside and called the sheriff.
He groaned when I told him the details. “For crissakes, Wild. You two are breaking every rule in the book.”
“Not every rule.”
“You’re telling me Riley Dalton has been kidnapped. Her brother has a few hours to come up with essentially $140 million worth of stolen property that hesupposedlydid not take but somehow seems to know exactly where it is.”
“Notexactly.We haven’t found it yet.”
“And in doing all this, you stumbled across one of Shane’s dead co-conspirators. Does that pretty much sum it up?”
