by Andrew Grey
Mattias had never worked with Sheriff Briggs before, but then, he often worked with new chiefs and departments. What was clear was that Sheriff Briggs and the detective had a history.
“I understand,” James said, and the sheriff turned to Mattias. It was surprising how easily Mattias’s brain glommed on to the detective’s first name and held on to it.
“He’s a good cop, but he tends to do things on his own, and that isn’t what’s needed here.” Sheriff Briggs turned back to James. “Work together and get these people. There is way too much that’s disappearing.”
Mattias cleared his throat. “If I can ask, how long have you two known each other?” It was best if he knew what sort of political environment he was walking into.
“James and I went to the academy together in Philadelphia,” Sheriff Briggs explained. “We were roommates for a while as well. Even then James was a superstar.” He turned to James, and his expression softened. “You lived and breathed police work, always have. But I’ve come to realize that one of the keys to solving cases and getting convictions is teamwork.” His expression grew pointed, and Mattias wondered what was behind the comment. He didn’t dare ask, and filed it away for later. “I’d love to have you on my team here, but I can’t do that if you won’t work with them. We are too small a department for renegades.” He drummed his fingers on the desk, and James and Mattias stood. Clearly they had received their orders and were being dismissed.
“You deserve this position, Solly, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure you get elected,” James said.
Mattias headed for the door, feeling a bit like an intruder on a private conversation. He opened the office door, stepped out, and closed it again. If they wanted to talk privately, that was their business.
“Mathias,” one of the officers said, getting his attention.
“Mattias,” he corrected as he stopped.
“Sorry. I’m Clay Brown, and you know Pierre. We’ve been assigned to the robbery team.” Both men shook his hand, and Pierre patted him on the shoulder.
“No hard feelings, though maybe you could show me how you got my wallet so easily.” He smiled and turned to Clay, who nodded. “The more we know about thieves and thieving, the more we can help people.”
“Of course. I’ll be happy to show you anything I can.” They seemed like good enough guys. “Where are we working?”
“I got us a small room off the squad area. That way we can gather our information and keep it in one place. I got some boards and stuff so we can share ideas.” They were both clearly excited to be working on this.
“This sort of thing can be tough to crack.”
“We aren’t afraid of hard work.”
“Pierre and I are looking to advance, and we think this is a good way to do it.” They opened the door and followed Mattias inside. The room itself was sparse, with serviceable furniture, a table that was scarred from years of use, and, as promised, whiteboards and a corkboard. “Where do we start?”
“James has the files, so we’ll need to wait for him and then have a look, unless you guys know something?” Mattias asked, and they shrugged.
“No details, just rumors so far.”
Clay snickered. “I have this theory that it’s surfers who came in here to ride the waves on the creek off Children’s Lake in Boiling Springs.” He snickered, and Pierre rolled his eyes.
“Nice Point Break reference. You a Gary Bussey fan?”
They both shook their heads. “Keanu Reeves,” they answered in unison, then laughed.
Well, that told him something interesting… very interesting. “He was hot then, wasn’t he?”
The door opened and James strolled in, closing the door before dropping the file on the table with a paper smack. Pierre took it, and Mattias waited for James to say something. “What was hot?” James asked, slipping off his suit jacket.
“Well, actually, we were just musing on how hot a certain detective was in his suit and tie.” Dang, it was fun to see James put off his game. “But now that you’re here, we should get down to work.” Mattias pulled out a chair and sat. “Let’s go over the crimes, how they got in, what they took, time of day—all of that.”
“It’s in there,” James sniped. “You can read as well as the rest of us.”
“And we can either get to work or have a pissing contest,” Mattias said. “Let’s get to work. Lay out as much detail as we can and see if there are any patterns. If this is a small group of people, then there will be patterns of some sort. Thieves stick to what works—get the goods and move on. They don’t reinvent the wheel for each heist. Like I said, this isn’t an Ocean’s movie.” Mattias sat back, watching James as he pulled out the chair at the far end of the table, plopped into it, and reached for the file.
“Ravelle, would you do the honors?” James asked, handing him a red dry-erase marker.
Mattias lifted his messenger bag onto the table and pulled out a small laptop. He opened it and started entering the information into a spreadsheet as they wrote it on the board.
“What are you doing?” James asked.
“Going high-tech. If it’s in here, we can search and rearrange it much more easily. I’m also hoping to see if the MO matches anyone I know.” Mattias raised his eyebrows. “No loyalty among thieves and all that.” He cocked what he hoped was a wicked grin and got back to work, listing the details as James and Clay called them out, going through nearly a dozen higher-end robberies.
Chapter 2
ONCE A thief, always a thief. That was how James felt. He had seen too many people ride the revolving door of the justice system, and all too rarely did they ever change. There had been more people caught and prosecuted for the same crime over and over than he could possibly count. And it galled him to take suggestions from a self-professed lawbreaker, especially one who had in effect disarmed him. But he didn’t have any choice. If he wanted reassignment and this case solved so his old friend could be elected as sheriff, a position he more than deserved, then he needed to put up with the man. That didn’t mean he was going to trust him any farther than he could throw him.
“Have you come up with anything?” James asked once they had been through all the case files.
Mattias chuckled. “Did you really expect me to be able to take a single look at this and have all the answers for you?” He smiled. “I’m good, but not quite that good.” He returned to looking at his damned spreadsheet. “There are some things that stand out only because they’re pretty expected. A lot of the thefts are jewelry, and not superexpensive items either. They would be easy to fence or liquidate.” He turned to James. “I suggest you check auction records to try to match up some of the items. These are just the kind of things that could be consigned to an auction house and easily sold.”
James stifled a growl. “We’ve already done that with the items from Mechanicsburg before turning over the cases, with no luck. If they are being auctioned, it’s outside the area.” That meant it was nearly impossible to trace.
Mattias pulled out one particular case file and handed it to him. “Check out that one, please. The third item down on the list.”
James took the sheet. “Okay. It’s a locket inscribed ‘From Victoria.’”
Mattias rolled his eyes. “No. That’s someone’s sloppy notes. I’ve seen one of those lockets. Look at the description more closely—it’s inlaid with a few pearls and a picture of Victoria. That’s Queen Victoria. She had a number of those lockets made and gave them out as tokens during her reign. There can’t be that many here in the US, so we may be able to trace this item if the thieves are stupid enough to try to sell it here.”
James peered at the report. “Sounds like something quite valuable.”
“Three or four thousand dollars is my guess, more in the UK.” Mattias glanced up at him. “But this is specific. If I had stolen something like this, I’d either hold it for a period of time or simply carry it with me and sell it on another end of the country or overseas. Mov
ing items, particularly small things, is quite easy. Still, one of the ways we might catch them is if they make a mistake.” He took back the page and put it in the case file where it had been. “Maybe we should contact the victims again and see if there is anything else that’s gotten misdocumented.”
James wanted to argue, but Mattias was probably right. “Pierre, you and Clay split the list and talk to the victims again. Tell them that we’re trying to make some progress and it would really help if they could tell us if there was anything particularly special about the items taken. I’m going to see if I can contact the potential eyewitnesses for anything else they might be able to give us.” James took down the names, addresses, and phone numbers, sitting at the table to make calls and see if he could catch any of them at home. Two of them were, and he left messages with the others before grabbing his coat and heading for the door.
“What about me?” Mattias asked as he stood.
“I can do this alone.” In fact, James preferred that.
“Yeah, you probably can, but I’m not going to sit here and wait around for all of you.” Mattias closed his computer, slipped it into his bag, and slung the strap over his shoulder, turning to him expectantly. “Briggs said we were to work together, and I don’t think that means you going off on your own like this.”
Damn it all, there was a slight curl at the corner of his lips.
“Fine. But you stay out of the way and don’t say anything. You can listen.” James headed for the door, then strode as fast as he could out to his car. Mattias was already in the passenger seat before he got in, the bag on his lap. James buckled himself in and pulled out of the lot, heading back toward his home turf. Neither of them talked, and after a while, it put James on edge, which he didn’t like. “What are you thinking?”
“That I shouldn’t talk.”
James wanted to strangle him. “Are you always this annoying?” he asked as he pulled to a stop at a light on their way east.
“Maybe just a little more than usual. You tend to bring it out in me.” Mattias smiled and his eyes glistened. For a second it was like Mattias had been transformed into some ancient god. Maybe he was the reborn spirit of the mischievous god of wine or something. “I’m sorry I lifted your gun. I didn’t know you were going to take it that harshly, but you were so stoic and uptight.”
“I’m professional. I have a job to do, and I do it the very best I can. All the time.” There hadn’t been much room for anything or anyone else in his life. He was the job—he lived the job.
“I see,” Mattias said as he turned to him. For a second James felt naked, as though Mattias could see straight through him. He wanted to squirm but wasn’t going to show Mattias the weakness.
“What does that mean?” James snapped, then immediately wished he hadn’t.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to take anything away from your professionalism when I lifted your gun. You challenged me, and I think I tried to get back at you a little. Believe it or not, I’m just as much a professional as you are.” Mattias hit him with a stare.
It was on the tip of his tongue to make a crack about Mattias’s “profession,” but James figured letting it go was probably going to be more productive. They needed to work together on this case, and fighting with each other wasn’t going to get the job done.
“I saw that glare.” There was teasing around the edges of Mattias’s voice, and James figured he was trying to ramp him up again. “I am a professional—I always have been. I never injured anyone or damaged things of value. I was a thief, yes. I got in and out quick and easy, and that was the end of it.”
James cleared his throat. “How does one go about getting into that ‘profession’? Did you go to thief college? Get a bachelors in burglary?” He was trying to be funny, but it didn’t sound like that.
“No. I grew up in group and foster homes and learned what I know from the other kids… at least to start. You know, the ones who had been in jail or spent time in juvy. They’re great places to learn about stealing jewelry, picking pockets, and boosting cars.” Mattias crossed his arms over his chest again. “Not everything is the perfect life that you had. Let me guess—two parents, two point five kids, two cars…. I get the drift. Well, I had none, and I was good, so I figured out a way to survive.” Mattias turned away, looking out the window.
Damn, that so wasn’t the kind of thing that James had been expecting to hear. He swallowed hard and concentrated on his driving. His own insecurities bubbled too close to the surface. James took a deep breath and pushed his thoughts back to where they belonged. He was on the job, and that was a lot easier to think about and concentrate on than his own miserable upbringing. Yeah, it sounded like Mattias didn’t have a picnic childhood, but the notion that James had had it easy was off the mark as well. Still, Mattias could think whatever he wanted to; it didn’t matter in the least. They were here to do a job, and James intended to see that through, nothing more. The fact that Mattias smelled like a spring morning was nothing, just like the way he bit his lower lip, worrying it between his teeth, didn’t matter either. Nor did the intensity in his eyes, tinged with vulnerability, that made James wonder what he’d been through. He shook his head slightly. James wasn’t going there.
He cleared his throat, needing to get the conversation back where it belonged. “The people we’re going to see have already met with the police once, so we need to be polite and understanding of their feelings.”
“Are they victims themselves?” Mattias asked.
“No. But seeing a crime can have an effect on people. They feel for their neighbors and want to help. So sometimes they add things. It isn’t malicious, but either they want to make us happy or their mind is filling in details for them. It happens. Just let me ask the questions, and we’ll see if we can get anything more helpful than in the original interview.” James tried to calm himself, gripping the wheel tighter, attempting to channel his discomfort into something useful. He kept his eyes on the road, even as he felt Mattias’s gaze on him.
The thing was, under normal circumstances he’d be a little creeped out, but having Mattias watch him was different. He turned up the air-conditioning a little to try to head off the rising heat under his collar. Why did it have to be a guy like Mattias who got under his skin this way? He had left behind the things that Mattias represented, turned his back on that, and he needed to get it together. Be professional echoed through his mind. That was the way for him to get through this. It was only until they found out what was going on, and then James could walk away and go back to his ordered life without this flip-flopping in his belly. And if he were honest, without wondering about what was under those stylish clothes of Mattias’s.
“I’ll let you take the lead,” Mattias said.
James wondered why he didn’t completely believe it. Not that he had time to talk it over further as they pulled into the driveway of their first witness. He turned off the engine, and they got out and headed to the front door, which opened to a woman with a baby on her hip and a little girl of about four with dark brown pigtails.
He introduced himself, and Mattias as a consultant working with their department. It was a nice afternoon, and they sat in the wicker furniture on the porch, the little girl sitting next to her mama. “I know you already spoke to the police, but we were hoping you might have remembered something else.”
“I only saw them for a few seconds. I was home taking care of the kids. A white work van—you know, the kind plumbers and stuff use—pulled up, and I didn’t think anything of it. The Nelsons have been doing some renovations. I didn’t put the pieces together until I heard they had been robbed, and then I asked if they had had some workman there.” She put the baby on her shoulder and patted his back to calm his fussiness. “I really didn’t see the men or anything else.”
The little girl slipped off the chair and onto the porch floor, then slid under the chair and pulled a doll out from under it. She jumped up and down a few times and then settl
ed near Mattias to play.
“Is that your favorite doll?”
“No. This is Mary. She’s my second-favorite. I just finded her.” She hugged her.
“Alice, please come and sit down next to Mommy,” the woman said gently, but Alice seemed to have a mind of her own.
“She was lost and I finded her,” Alice told Mattias, fascinated with him for some reason.
“Did you happen to see the people themselves? Even how they were dressed?” James asked, and the woman shook her head.
“These two keep me pretty busy. I only thought about it after I heard about the robbery. There was nothing suspicious at the time. I think they might have been there for about an hour, and then I didn’t see the van anymore.”
“All right, thank you,” James said. There was no point in pushing her further. A relatively plain white work van. That seemed to be common in two of the reports. Another described a green minivan. She hadn’t seen any more that day, and pressuring her wasn’t likely to yield anything. “We appreciate you seeing us.” He smiled and glanced at Mattias before standing and heading down the steps off the porch and out to the car.
“Alice, no!”
Frantic fear rang in the air. James turned as the little girl ran out into the street, a car coming down toward her. Mattias raced back across, grabbed Alice, and propelled them both to the sidewalk, the car passing with a blare of the horn.
Alice’s mother raced out as Mattias held the girl. “Thank you… thank you,” she said, taking Alice’s hand. “You don’t go into the street, you know that.”
“But, Mommy,” Alice said, pointing.
Mattias turned where she was pointing and walked back across the street and down slightly. “James,” he called as he walked over. “Look there.”
