Waking the Witch
Page 69
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Most of the posters had been defaced. Parting words from the employees. If I had to face rainbow posters exhorting me to have a positive attitude, I’d add my own commentary, too. And I wouldn’t wait until after I was laid off.
Most of the office doors were closed, empty nameplates on each. The last one, though, stood partly open, light seeping into the hall. When I headed toward it, Adam passed me. I grabbed his arm. We faced off, but only for a moment. He wasn’t happy to be here, meaning he was spoiling for a fight. Best not to give him one. I let him go.
He cleared his throat loudly as he approached the door. The sound echoed through the empty hall. He slowed, listening for any sounds of movement. Nothing. He pushed open the door and looked inside. I trailed him.
It was a big wood-paneled office. Clearly executive level, the dented metal desk looking as out of place as the old lunch box and dog-eared magazines scattered across it. The security guard had taken the best office the sawmill had to offer, dragging in abandoned furniture from other offices.
A half-smoked cigarette rested on the edge of an old company mug, the smell of it still permeating the room. The magazines were car ones. None I read. I prefer mine without half-naked women. A partially eaten sandwich lay on an open magazine.
The cigarette was out. Adam touched the end of it.
“Cold,” he said.
I picked up another mug and stuck my finger into the contents. “Coffee is, too.” I pulled my finger out and sniffed it. “Coffee with a kick. Whiskey, I think. Definitely cold, though.”
As I went to put it down, I realized the mug was new, unlike everything else in the office. A matching extra one sat on a shelf. Both bore the same logo. Radu Developments.
“Cody’s family company,” I said, showing Adam. “Two brand-new mugs.”
“Jacket, too,” Adam said.
He nodded to the coat hanging off the back of the chair. I picked it up. A new, fleece-lined windbreaker with the Radu company logo on the breast pocket.
“Coincidence?” I said. “Or does Mr. R. G. Ballard rate corporate gifts for a reason?”
“One thing’s for sure. The security guard was here earlier.”
“And now he’s not.”
thirty-five
We backed up and checked all the offices, just to be sure. They were empty. The door at the end of the hall opened into a big room with tables and folding chairs. It had whiteboards, all wiped clean. Meeting room or quality control, I guessed.
A set of steel double doors probably led to the sawmill floor. Adam started heading that way, but I wanted to search systematically.
A glance inside the other two doors identified both rooms as storage. One was mostly empty. The other was jam-packed with crap.
Adam walked into the nearly empty one and shone his light around.
“Boxes,” he murmured. “Doesn’t look like they’ve been touched in months so—”
I stopped him and tilted his flashlight until it illuminated the dusty floor. It was covered in footprints.
I walked over to the nearest box. While it was battered and dirty, little of that dirt was actual dust. If the sawmill had been closed more than a year, there should be dust. According to the label, it was filled with office supplies.
“Explains the footprints,” Adam said. “Someone’s been swiping paper and pens. The security guard probably has a deal going with that real estate agent who runs the copy shop. Maybe she gives him the Radu company swag. They’re developers, so she probably gets tons of it.”
“Maybe. But why leave office supplies behind in the first place? I doubt the workers would have had any compunctions about stripping the place clean after they got their pink slips.”
The box was taped shut with shiny new packing tape, but the cardboard showed signs that tape had been applied and ripped off many times. I opened it. Inside I found another box, newer, with a logo for a company called Pharma-Link at a Canadian address. I tore it open. Inside were drugs. Prescription drugs.
“You’re shitting me,” I murmured.
I walked to the next box and opened it. More drugs. Adam ripped open another. Same thing. We went into the other storage one. It was packed with boxes.
“Guess we know what broughtJesse here,” Adam said. “He tracked down the destination for those deliveries Cody was getting.”
“His big illegal enterprise is importing prescription drugs from Canada? No wonder he was so worried about anyone finding out. After the white slavery rumors, this would have been such a disappointment.” I shook my head. “So the security guard is in on the scheme, letting Cody and his buddies store their stock here. Considering that the place is up for sale, no one would think it odd if they saw Cody driving into the sawmill. He probably has more stashed in the warehouses down the road, which is why Michael was checking them out. Only Jesse came straight to the source.”
So where was the security guard? And, more important, where was Jesse?
WE SPLIT UP to pick paths through the crap, just doing a quick check to make sure the room was vacant. I was moving aside a chair when I saw a boot sticking out from between two crates.
“Got something,” I whispered. I leaned over the crate to see a leg protruding from the boot. “Or someone.”
I could tell by the boot that it wasn’t Jesse—not his style. Nor were the ugly work pants.
A tarp lay across the body. I peeled it back as Adam came over. Underneath was a guy in his fifties with greasy gray hair. Adam checked for a pulse and shook his head.
I leaned over and saw the pool of blood under the body. He’d been shot in the back.
When I glanced up, Adam had his phone out. He glowered at it.
“Still no service?” I said.
He nodded.
I had no desire to be caught with another corpse. Yet I knew better than to suggest one of us run back to the Jeep and call for help. We couldn’t separate when my powers weren’t up to par.
“We’ll call as soon as we can,” I said. “We need to find—”
“Shit.”
Adam was staring at something on the other side of the boxes. I walked over and followed his gaze to another body, this one sitting against the wall, gun in his hand, wall behind him splattered with blood and brain. His face was covered in more blood, but I recognized it.
“Cody.”
Most of the office doors were closed, empty nameplates on each. The last one, though, stood partly open, light seeping into the hall. When I headed toward it, Adam passed me. I grabbed his arm. We faced off, but only for a moment. He wasn’t happy to be here, meaning he was spoiling for a fight. Best not to give him one. I let him go.
He cleared his throat loudly as he approached the door. The sound echoed through the empty hall. He slowed, listening for any sounds of movement. Nothing. He pushed open the door and looked inside. I trailed him.
It was a big wood-paneled office. Clearly executive level, the dented metal desk looking as out of place as the old lunch box and dog-eared magazines scattered across it. The security guard had taken the best office the sawmill had to offer, dragging in abandoned furniture from other offices.
A half-smoked cigarette rested on the edge of an old company mug, the smell of it still permeating the room. The magazines were car ones. None I read. I prefer mine without half-naked women. A partially eaten sandwich lay on an open magazine.
The cigarette was out. Adam touched the end of it.
“Cold,” he said.
I picked up another mug and stuck my finger into the contents. “Coffee is, too.” I pulled my finger out and sniffed it. “Coffee with a kick. Whiskey, I think. Definitely cold, though.”
As I went to put it down, I realized the mug was new, unlike everything else in the office. A matching extra one sat on a shelf. Both bore the same logo. Radu Developments.
“Cody’s family company,” I said, showing Adam. “Two brand-new mugs.”
“Jacket, too,” Adam said.
He nodded to the coat hanging off the back of the chair. I picked it up. A new, fleece-lined windbreaker with the Radu company logo on the breast pocket.
“Coincidence?” I said. “Or does Mr. R. G. Ballard rate corporate gifts for a reason?”
“One thing’s for sure. The security guard was here earlier.”
“And now he’s not.”
thirty-five
We backed up and checked all the offices, just to be sure. They were empty. The door at the end of the hall opened into a big room with tables and folding chairs. It had whiteboards, all wiped clean. Meeting room or quality control, I guessed.
A set of steel double doors probably led to the sawmill floor. Adam started heading that way, but I wanted to search systematically.
A glance inside the other two doors identified both rooms as storage. One was mostly empty. The other was jam-packed with crap.
Adam walked into the nearly empty one and shone his light around.
“Boxes,” he murmured. “Doesn’t look like they’ve been touched in months so—”
I stopped him and tilted his flashlight until it illuminated the dusty floor. It was covered in footprints.
I walked over to the nearest box. While it was battered and dirty, little of that dirt was actual dust. If the sawmill had been closed more than a year, there should be dust. According to the label, it was filled with office supplies.
“Explains the footprints,” Adam said. “Someone’s been swiping paper and pens. The security guard probably has a deal going with that real estate agent who runs the copy shop. Maybe she gives him the Radu company swag. They’re developers, so she probably gets tons of it.”
“Maybe. But why leave office supplies behind in the first place? I doubt the workers would have had any compunctions about stripping the place clean after they got their pink slips.”
The box was taped shut with shiny new packing tape, but the cardboard showed signs that tape had been applied and ripped off many times. I opened it. Inside I found another box, newer, with a logo for a company called Pharma-Link at a Canadian address. I tore it open. Inside were drugs. Prescription drugs.
“You’re shitting me,” I murmured.
I walked to the next box and opened it. More drugs. Adam ripped open another. Same thing. We went into the other storage one. It was packed with boxes.
“Guess we know what broughtJesse here,” Adam said. “He tracked down the destination for those deliveries Cody was getting.”
“His big illegal enterprise is importing prescription drugs from Canada? No wonder he was so worried about anyone finding out. After the white slavery rumors, this would have been such a disappointment.” I shook my head. “So the security guard is in on the scheme, letting Cody and his buddies store their stock here. Considering that the place is up for sale, no one would think it odd if they saw Cody driving into the sawmill. He probably has more stashed in the warehouses down the road, which is why Michael was checking them out. Only Jesse came straight to the source.”
So where was the security guard? And, more important, where was Jesse?
WE SPLIT UP to pick paths through the crap, just doing a quick check to make sure the room was vacant. I was moving aside a chair when I saw a boot sticking out from between two crates.
“Got something,” I whispered. I leaned over the crate to see a leg protruding from the boot. “Or someone.”
I could tell by the boot that it wasn’t Jesse—not his style. Nor were the ugly work pants.
A tarp lay across the body. I peeled it back as Adam came over. Underneath was a guy in his fifties with greasy gray hair. Adam checked for a pulse and shook his head.
I leaned over and saw the pool of blood under the body. He’d been shot in the back.
When I glanced up, Adam had his phone out. He glowered at it.
“Still no service?” I said.
He nodded.
I had no desire to be caught with another corpse. Yet I knew better than to suggest one of us run back to the Jeep and call for help. We couldn’t separate when my powers weren’t up to par.
“We’ll call as soon as we can,” I said. “We need to find—”
“Shit.”
Adam was staring at something on the other side of the boxes. I walked over and followed his gaze to another body, this one sitting against the wall, gun in his hand, wall behind him splattered with blood and brain. His face was covered in more blood, but I recognized it.
“Cody.”
