Page 146 of Oddly Fine

“Lavigne,” a groggy voice answered.

“Hey, Officer Hunky, you’re on duty tonight, right?” Beckett asked, vaguely recalling the young cop telling him it was a real struggle to stay awake his entire shift while on highway patrol.

“Sure, why?” he asked, with a smile in his voice, pleased to be getting a call from someone he’d obviously never expected to hear from again.

“I need you to intercept a truck heading to New York—you in the mood?” Beckett knew it was a batshit crazy favor to ask without providing a reason.

Lavigne hummed thoughtfully for a few moments.

“Okay. But this is Canada, and you need to remember that we don’t get quite as much—” he said, hesitating to finish the sentence.

“Leniency?” Beckett suggested with a quick laugh.

“Sure—let’s go with that,” he agreed. “I can’t just up and arrest people for no reason.”

“I don’t need you to arrest anyone. Just pull them over and give me a few minutes to—mess around with their load.”

“Is that a euphemism? Is this a weird sex thing?” He sounded more amused than suspicious.

“Focus, hot stuff, this is serious police business,” Beckett said trying not to laugh, motioning for Hayes to start the car and follow the large truck.

“Sure,” Lavigne responded, snorting in disbelief. “So what’s the plan?”

Generally speaking, plans plus Beckett usually equaled three, but he gave it his absolute best shot. By the time Officer Lavigne hung up, it seemed relatively feasible.

“So, before you convince yourself it’s a good plan—let me just clarify that I think it’s certain to be a complete and utter disaster.” Hayes had overtaken the truck several miles back after they’d hit the highway towards New York, and was driving like a madman to gain some time on the other guy. They’d need to be ahead of their target to allow some time to get into the right position without detection for Deputy Hunky’s traffic stop to work in their favor, and they only had one shot at this.

“Listen—this isn’t the life I ordered, either, but here the fuck we are, so—drive on, Daisy-doo!”

The plan was simple. They’d parked their car at a rest stop along the highway, and Beckett had walked down the road about 100 feet beyond the point where Lavigne would flash his lights at the truck as it rolled down the highway. Hopefully, the truck would pull over somewhere between the rest stop and where Officer Lavigne had planned to pull them over. Then, once parked, Jeremy would take his sweet-assed time verifying the license plate information, thereby holding up the driver for at least ten minutes. That’s when Beckett would haul ass to climb into the back of the truck and swab the coffins using the DIY evidence kit they’d made out of things they’d found in the first-aid kit in the car. Hopefully, the cotton swabs would later prove helpful in some way and add to the growing amount of damning evidence. When he was done fishing for DNA, he’d make his escape and disappear before Jeremy let the driver go. Meanwhile, Hayes was playing lookout, which pissed him off to no end, but it had to be done. They decided it would be best to use their personal comms devices again for this little outing.

“Remind me why it’s always you leading the charge,” Hayes said, still throwing a hissy fit about being left on lookout duty.

“Because last time you left me behind, I nearly drove a car off a cliff, and you’re now fully aware of the depth and scope of my temper tantrums,” Beckett said, not even pretending it was a question of ability.

“Yes—that’s right. I’ve decided to reward your insanity with unlimited freedom to act,” Hayes drawled sarcastically. His accent always got stronger when he was upset. The British lilt made him sound far more aristocratic and judgmental than usual.

“You’re creating problems in your brain again—just stop. It’ll all be fine,” Beckett said, just as he saw the flash of police lights in the distance. Lavigne’s cruiser was in pursuit. Thankfully, the driver did not try to evade him. Instead, he readily cooperated, slowed about 20 feet away from Beckett’s hiding spot, and pulled over to the side of the road. It wasn’t far from Hayes’ lookout position, so he’d have a perfect view of the traffic stop.

“Jeremy is getting out of his car,” Hayes said.

“Don’t stare at his ass using the binoculars, you perv,” Beckett responded, already on the move, sneaking under the cover of darkness towards the truck. The police cruiser’s lights were still on, and Jeremy had deployed his arrow board, the bright yellow signal alerting oncoming traffic to move to the left lane while passing them. All those lights would be distracting for the driver, allowing Beckett to hide in the dark ditch by the side of the road until it was time to act.

“Looks like the same driver,” Hayes informed them.

“The guy from the container?”

“Affirmative,” Hayes said officiously.

Beckett rolled his eyes and slowed his approach, not wanting to draw anyone’s attention as he approached the back of the truck.

“Okay, SEAL Team 6, chill out,” Beckett complained.

“SEAL Team 2,” Hayes corrected quickly, playing along. “Be aware, there’s movement. It looks like the driver’s upset. He looks like he wants to get out of the cab.”

Beckett ran the remaining distance, hoping the driver’s arguing with Jeremy would distract him enough that he wouldn’t see Beckett at the back of his truck. The mechanism to open the door was a standard latch that he unhooked quickly, using both hands to silence the scrape of metal-on-metal. He carefully eased the door up enough to get a two-foot clearance and slithered his way in on his stomach. Once inside, he used a piece of wood next to the wall to prop open the door.

“I’m in,” he told Hayes and turned on his flashlight to begin scanning the load.