Close to Home: A Bear and Mandy Logan Mystery (Bear & Mandy Logan Book 1)

by L. T. Ryan

  “You?”

  “Me.”

  “What… what do you want?” He struggled to wiggle free. Bear leaned in harder. “You better back off, or I’m calling the cops.”

  “Which one? Don’t expect the sheriff to come to your defense. Your people put her in the hospital.”

  Weinberger froze. “What are you talking about?” His eyes flickered to the hospital. “Sheriff McKinnon is—”

  “Poisoned.” Bear applied more pressure. “And you know more than you’re letting on.”

  “I don’t.” Weinberger struggled to get the words out. Bear was like a concrete slab pressing down on him. “Come on, man. I don’t know anything. Seriously!”

  “How am I supposed to believe you? Your kid’s sick, and you didn’t even want to call an ambulance.”

  Weinberger closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Bear saw fear. Fear of losing something precious to you. “I know.” His voice was low. Strained. “I know. I messed up.”

  “You did more than mess up.”

  “Don’t you think I know that!” Weinberger pushed back. He was weak. Couldn’t have moved Bear if he put everything he had into it. Bear relented and took a step back. “I thought things would be different. I thought they would fix this before it got to that point.”

  “Tell me what’s going on. I can fix this.”

  “You can’t—”

  “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

  Weinberger tipped his head back and laughed. He looked insane. “You don’t know what they’re capable of.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “I know nothing.” Weinberger was calm now. Rational. “I’m just a warehouse manager.”

  Bear lifted an eyebrow. “You’re a manager and you don’t know anything?”

  “They make me leave the room.”

  “Why?”

  Weinberger’s shoulders slumped as he exhaled in Bear’s face. The man’s breath smelled like coffee. The guy looked around to make sure no one would overhear them. “I really don’t know anything, okay? We get in shipments every day from around the country. Pills and supplies and compounds. I’m in charge of making sure everything gets to where it’s going. Most of the time.”

  “Most of the time?”

  “On certain days at certain times, I’m encouraged to step out of the room for an hour. That’s when the special deliveries come in.”

  “What’s in the special deliveries?”

  Weinberger scrutinized him, and a little bit of the man Bear had met the other day returned. “You think I know that? They make me step out for a reason, man.”

  Bear backed up another foot. Weinberger didn’t look like he wanted to run. Bear needed the space to think. “Do you have any idea why they make you do that? You’ve never gotten curious? Tried to stick around?”

  “Nah, man.” Weinberger pulled a crumpled cigarette out from his pocket and stuck it between his lips and lit it. Didn’t even offer Bear one. Not that Bear would’ve taken it. “They watch everything we do when we’re on the clock. They count our keystrokes. They see everything.”

  “If you had to guess, what would your first thought be?”

  Weinberger stared him down. Bear could see the wheels turning. Weinberger might not want to admit it, but he’d thought about this before. “Some sort of chemical compound. Something we’re not supposed to have. Something they keep off the books.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, man. I really don’t. They don’t pay me enough to know. That’s for the bigwigs.”

  “Who are the bigwigs?”

  “Anderson. Caplan. Johnson. Olsen.”

  Bear snapped to attention. “Olsen? Jeremy Olsen?”

  Weinberger nodded. “And half a dozen more. They’re on the website. It’s not like they’re hiding. They’re on the board.”

  “Why do you keep working for them? After what they did to your daughter?”

  “We don’t know for sure—”

  Bear laughed. “Why are you in denial? How is that helping your daughter?”

  Weinberger couldn’t find an answer.

  Bear stepped forward. He was in the man’s face again. “Why are you protecting them? Why are you letting them do this?”

  “I’m not letting them.” Weinberger sounded defeated.

  “You’re not stopping them either.”

  “How? This company is my only source of income. My dad worked there before I did. I’m a legacy employee. They pay me just enough to cover my bills, but not enough to pack up and move. My family needs me to keep this job. And you don’t know what it’s like in there. If you’re part of the group, you’re golden. Free ride. Easy job. But the second you ask questions, everything falls apart.”

  “Is that what happened with Laura Lynn? Is that why she got sick? You started asking questions?”

  “I got curious about the deliveries.” Weinberger wouldn’t meet Bear’s eyes. “It’d been happening for years. I finally broke. I wanted to know. But I didn’t find anything.”

  “Give me something that can help me.” Bear pushed all his anger to the side. “Please.”

  Weinberger tipped his head back and stared at the sky. The drizzle from earlier had dissipated. “I know to step out of the room when certain lot numbers appear on the schedule. Seventy-two, thirteen, a hundred and six, and ninety-seven. Those show up most often.”

  “How is that supposed to help me?” Bear asked. “You gonna let me into the warehouse?”

  Weinberger shook his head. “It’d be impossible to sneak you in. There’s an easier way.” He swallowed, like he was pushing past a lump in his throat. “Bowser Freight delivers the packages. You’ll have an easier time getting into their system.”

  Bear cursed. He knew Bowser had been involved, even if they couldn’t find any evidence. How had they been so close without a single clue to back up their hunches? Then Bear remembered they’d been doing this for decades. They’d had a lot of time to perfect their con.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” Bear said. “I may need you again.”

  “Are you really going to do this?” Weinberger asked. “It’s a suicide mission.”

  “I’ve got nothing to lose. Sometimes you gotta bite the hand that feeds you. And if you’re too much of a coward to do it,” he said, “then I guess I will.”

  35

  Bear waited until dusk. It wasn’t easy. He wanted to crash through the door and take the entire building single handedly. That would do no one any favors. Stealth would be key here. Despite his size, he had experience slipping in and out of the shadows undetected.

  The hospital had called him once, but it was barely an update. The nurse had told him they were still trying to figure out what McKinnon had consumed. He’d gone back to her house and done a more thorough search. There had been no evidence of what had happened. Now it was just a waiting game.

  He could be patient when he wanted to be. However, Bear had spent the last several days on the defensive. It was time to make a move. He wasn’t running from the problem anymore. And he sure as hell would not sit idly by while the sheriff deteriorated.

  It was go-time.

  Bear left his truck in a gravel parking lot near a river, almost two miles from the Bowser Freight’s building. Even if someone saw it, they’d think he’d gone fishing or walking through the woods. It’d buy him some time and even an alibi if he needed it.

  He waited ten minutes at the edge of the woods and watched over his truck to see if anyone rolled up to look at it. Best he could tell, no one followed him. Half the town against him and the other half looking the other way, he wasn’t taking chances.

  Satisfied that he’d done his due diligence, Bear hiked north to the building. The woods were cool and full of the sounds of nature. Every time a stick cracked, it sounded like a gunshot, and he ducked his head. He’d grabbed his pistol from the glove compartment for some security. Still, he was a sitting duck if someone was watching him.

  It took hi
m twenty minutes to work his way through the woods, and another ten to pass the building and double back. The rest of the journey offered no cover. A pair of headlights swung in his direction just as he rolled behind the nearest vehicle. He waited and caught his breath while the van pulled to a stop in the next row.

  From his hiding spot, he watched the van as two men jumped out.

  “Yo, this day was cray,” one said. “They sent me to Buffalo and Syracuse. They gotta give those routes to two different drivers.”

  “You’re complaining about the overtime?” the other guy asked.

  “I’m complaining about my time being wasted. Got things to do, man.”

  “I’m sure your mom won’t miss you too much. Come on, let’s lock up and get out of here.”

  The other man’s response was lost in the wind as they made their way to the building. Bear had to be quick. He sprinted from one van to the next until he was a few feet from the door. The two men entered. Bear stayed low and reached for the handle before the door clicked shut. He waited a minute, then peeked through the window. When he saw no one in his direct path, he slipped through and let the door fall closed behind him.

  Bear wished he had the layout of the building. There hadn’t been time for research ahead of the mission. He took in what he could as he ducked behind machinery and ran along the wall. He made out voices on the other side of the room.

  The warehouse was one large room. On the far end, there were offices. The rest was full of aisles of boxes and packing machinery. There were several roll-up doors that opened onto the loading docks. An emergency exit if he got trapped. No guarantee he could easily open them.

  The plan didn’t feel like it was worth the risk anymore.

  As one man rounded the corner, Bear caught sight of his face. Or rather, the tattoo on his neck. Red and blue. Eagle. It was the tattooed man he’d fought off the other day. The same one who had tried to kidnap Mandy.

  Every muscle in his body ached to pounce. To jump out and grab the guy and beat him. Bear’s brain wrestled for control. Satisfying as it would be to teach the guy a lesson and smack that ever-present smug look off his face, Bear had a job to do. Several people lay in limbo while he searched for answers.

  He repeated the numbers Weinberger had given him like a mantra. Seventy-two. Thirteen. A hundred and six. Ninety-seven.

  Five minutes passed. The other guy grabbed his belongings out of his locker and the two left. The door slammed shut behind them. Bear waited another five minutes. The building remained dead silent. The lights were off. Everything was powered down.

  He was alone.

  The flashlight on his phone illuminated enough space for him to navigate the warehouse without too much trouble. He walked the perimeter to ensure he was alone, and then headed to the offices.

  The first office door he tried was unlocked. Bear pushed through and shut the door behind him. The room was bare. A couple generic paintings on the wall spruced the place up. Not that he cared. Bear only had eyes for the computer. He plopped down behind it and wiggled the mouse. The monitor flickered to life. This one booted up faster than Dr. Sing’s. In fact, everything in the warehouse looked new and barely used.

  To his surprise, the computer didn’t require a password. Bear carefully navigated the desktop, knowing he’d recognize what he was looking for when he found it. There were icons for programs he’d never heard of, as well as countless folders all in shorthand. He clicked on everything he could until he ran into a program that kept track of inventory.

  Bingo.

  Bear clicked on the menu. A pop-up box asked for an authentication code. He tried to click around it, but it wouldn’t let him through. He opened desk drawers and riffled through papers, looking for a pin or something that might work. Nothing.

  Bear pulled out the phone and called Mandy. She answered on the first ring.

  “Everything okay, Mandy?”

  “Yeah. You?”

  “Put Marcus on the phone.”

  He heard the cell transfer between hands. Marcus’ voice sounded even higher than usual. “Uh, hello?”

  “I need to get into a computer. An application on the computer.”

  “Okay.”

  “It requires an authentication code. How can I get past that?”

  “Um.”

  “You’re a hacker, aren’t you?” He couldn’t believe he was asking a fourteen-year-old for help. “Can you hack into it?”

  “I’m going to need a lot more information than that. What kind of computer? What kind of authentication code?”

  “I don’t know.” He wanted to slam his fist on the table. “It’s for a program called Inventorious. It keeps track of the company’s inventory. I’m looking for specific lot numbers.”

  “Okay, so a program on the computer.” He heard pounding feet, like Marcus was running up the stairs. “But you’re on the actual computer? You just can’t get into the program?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Is there a mail icon on the desktop?”

  Bear closed the window and moved his mouse around until he found one. “Yeah.”

  “Is it logged in? Can you access the emails on the computer?”

  Bear double-clicked the icon, and a window opened. The inbox was empty, but as he clicked through the folders, he saw he had unrestricted access. “Yeah, I can get into that.”

  “All right, read me the email address. I’m going to send a virus that allows me to get into the system. Then I can get you the code.”

  Bear did as he was told. When the email came through, Marcus instructed him to click on the link. He did. A few silent minutes later, Marcus was controlling the mouse, clicking through various programs, and typing various commands. Then he let out a contented sigh. “You should be good to go. Try opening the program now.”

  Bear did. When it was time to put in the authentication code, it auto populated. All he had to do was hit enter. He had access.

  “Thanks, kid. Close out of this and pretend you never saw it. You got me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. I’ll talk to you two soon.”

  Bear hung up and turned his full attention to the computer screen in front of him. He might not have known exactly how Marcus had done what he’d done, but it didn’t matter. He had the information he needed at his fingertips. Now he just had to look for it.

  The search function proved adequate, and Bear started putting the lot numbers in. Seventy-two was a drug called Hydroxaprone. Thirteen was for Femaproxine. A hundred and six? Norethelene. And ninety-two was simply Varaxa. They all sounded like medications, but none of the information in the system told him what they were used for.

  It didn’t matter. He had what he’d come for. Bear hit print and waited for the pages to land in the tray, then he backed out of everything and shut the computer down, leaving the mouse where he had found it. Tucking the pages into his back pocket, he reentered the warehouse and turned to close the door behind him.

  Before it fully shut, a heavy object came crashing down on the back of Bear’s head, sending him sprawling across the floor.

  36

  Bear lay on the floor. He shook off the cobwebs and waited to see what the assailant would do. If they’d wanted him dead, he’d be gone by now. Yet here he was. Alive.

  This person wanted a fight. And Bear planned on giving them one.

  He heard his attacker panting just a foot away. He stepped closer and chuckled. Big mistake.

  “The bigger they are,”—Bear recognized the voice— “the harder they…”

  Bear struck with his right leg. His shin connected with the guy’s knee cap. The man yelped from the pain and stumbled backwards. Bear scrambled to his feet and faced his opponent. His suspicions were confirmed.

  “We gotta stop meeting like this,” Bear said. “Don’t even know your name.”

  Neck tattoo swung his bat up and let it rest on his shoulder. His smug grin infuriated Bear. He kept his anger hidden.

&n
bsp; “Jeremy Olsen. Happy to make your acquaintance.”

  “Olsen, huh? We’ve been looking for you.” Bear stood tall. “Wish I could say the same, but you’re a piece of garbage.”

  “Got you good last time, didn’t I?”

  “I remember it differently. Without your buddy, you’d already be in jail. Or worse.”

  Olsen spread his arms wide. “It’s just you and me now.”

  Bear liked his odds. He was bigger than Olsen and just as fast. Besides, Bear still had his gun tucked into the waist of his jeans. He wouldn’t hesitate.

  This wasn’t just about surviving. This was about revenge. For Mandy. For all the people dying in this town.

  Olsen lunged at Bear. He swung the bat up and over, going straight for the cranium. Bear anticipated the move. He moved back and to the side. Olsen would need to step up to reach him. Bear would capitalize if the guy tried.

  “Pretty spry for a guy your size.” Olsen cinched up on the grip.

  “A talker, huh?” Maybe Olsen would give up a few secrets. “How’d you know I was here?”

  “Saw your truck down the road. Think you could hide that beast?” He stalked forward a step. “I see you got it all fixed up. Shame about that accident.”

  “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  He shrugged. “I plead the fifth.”

  “You will.” Bear backed up and bumped into the corner of a table he thought was further away.

  Olsen took advantage of the stumble and lunged again, this time bringing his bat down twice. Bear dodged left, then right, and followed with a jab at Olsen’s cheek.

  “Swing and miss. What’s your batting average?”

  “Better than yours.” Olsen sounded light, but Bear could tell he was getting to him.

  “You don’t know a thing about me.”

  “Don’t need to. Boss tells me to take care of someone, I do it.”

  “Who’s your boss?” Bear backed around a corner, venturing deeper into the warehouse.