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When they loaded into her Wagoneer, Kerri told Falco about the warehouses. She glanced at the view beyond the Taylor home as she pulled away from the curb. In a city expanding the way Birmingham was, you never knew what piece of property would suddenly be worth a fortune.
Birmingport Road
Birmingham, 11:30 a.m.
Kerri had been right to consider the Taylor assets. Falco had spent the time required to reach Birmingport Road searching the net and calling his sources in the property office for information about the warehouses as well as the home Taylor owned. A developer was already attempting to buy up the property in the area where she lived to tear it all down, making way for a new high-end development. The homes like Taylor’s with the city view would be the most highly sought after.
The warehouses were located south of the Birmingham port on the lower loop of the Locust Fork. The property extended across the river and deep into the woods on the other side. The warehouses stood maybe a half mile from the actual waterfront, with a strip of dense forest standingbetween the buildings and the shoreline. In Kerri’s limited knowledge it didn’t appear that extraordinary effort would be required to carve a path between the warehouses and the river. Perhaps Taylor had underestimated the value of the property. But then Kerri was no engineer.
There were three warehouses. One was a local third-party seller for Amazon whose company had grown too big for the owner’s garage, but he hadn’t been able to afford a building in town, so he’d leased the smaller of the warehouses. He lived closer to the warehouses than downtown anyway. The second company was another local one that had developed a so-called natural brand of cosmetics, Iris. Kerri had heard of the brand, but it was available online only, so she’d never seen the actual products. A separate maintenance shed was also leased by the cosmetics company.
The third was a tire resale company. People who didn’t like the nearly new or new tires on their vehicles sold to this company, who then sold the tires to people who were looking for that brand or size for a cheaper price. It was quite the enterprise, based on what Falco had found in his search.
Only one of the three actually used the port. The cosmetics company shipped their products to others who actually did the selling and shipping to individuals. Like a sort of Avon or Mary Kay. The manufacturer shipped to the sellers, who distributed to the individual customers.
None appeared to have any sort of connection to Leo Kurtz and his shop. And certainly not to Asher Walsh other than via his aunt.
The warehouses were older, circa the 1920s. But all had been updated with electrical and climate control. This was according to the only one of the businesses who had agreed to allow them inside. The third-party Amazon seller, one SouthernWorks, LLC. The owner insisted he had nothing to hide and even permitted them to watch the packing of boxes.
“How was Tori this morning?” Falco asked as they walked through the building, careful to stay out of the way of the employees readying products to ship.
“Hanging in there. That day on the stairs is still fuzzy for her.” Kerri hesitated a moment. “Tori said Alice gave them cookies and milk whenever she and Sarah stayed the night. Her memories of events on those occasions are foggy and fractured. It makes me wonder if the same thing happened with Tori and Sarah at school that day. Tori mentioned that Alice was always bringing cookies and other snacks her aunt had prepared to share with her friends. I’m worried she and Sarah were drugged. Maybe even the Myers girl.”
“We could take Tori to the lab. Have some tests run,” Falco suggested. “It might not be too late to find something, especially in her hair. If she’d prefer, I could take a hair sample to the lab under an alias.”
Kerri nodded. “Good idea. I’m not completely okay with putting the possibility out there that she’s ingested some sort of drug. Sykes and Peterson could twist it into something it’s not.” And her partner was right; many drugs showed up in hair samples long after the last use.
“We should talk to Tori.”
“Okay.” Kerri was fairly certain her daughter had already considered the possibility but didn’t want to say the words out loud. A new kind of worry knotted in her gut.
Focus, Kerri.Right now, she needed her mind in this investigation.
Back outside they walked around the other warehouses. They couldn’t go inside, but they had the authorization to walk the property. The tire reseller, Wheels, Inc., had two vehicles, one SUV and a truck, parked in the small accompanying lot. Falco took a photo of each license plate.
Iris, the cosmetics company, had only one vehicle. A quick snap of the license plate and they headed back to the Wagoneer. Kerri hoped they hadn’t wasted their time, but not checking it out could have been a mistake.
Considering the rising potential of the warehouses at Birmingport and the escalating value of Taylor’s home, Lana Walsh could certainlybe interested in her sister’s estate. Did her interest have anything to do with Asher Walsh’s murder? Not likely since Lana’s unexplained visits started well before her son’s death.
Didn’t sit right with Kerri. She wasn’t ready to consider the mother a suspect.
As they drove away from the warehouses, along the only entrance and exit to the property, Kerri shared her conclusions with Falco.
“I’m with you. I can’t see it. Hold on.” He fished his cell from his pocket and took a call.
In the distance, a dark vehicle appeared. As they drew closer, it was obvious the vehicle was headed toward the warehouses, but it was too far away to determine whether it was a truck or an SUV. The profile was too high for a sedan or hybrid.
As the expanse of highway between her Wagoneer and the other vehicle diminished, Kerri’s pulse began to race.
Black.
SUV.
The emblem on the grill came into focus.
Escalade.
The driver—male, Hispanic—and Kerri stared at each other as their vehicles passed.
