Calculated Risk (A Cross Security Investigation Book 2)

by G. K. Parks

  “They close at nine,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah. I just saw the sign.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets and walked away. That was close. Too close. I couldn’t risk checking out the storage unit now, so I ducked back behind the dumpster and waited.

  As it grew later, it got colder. I put my parka back on and headed for the street. I was just a guy taking a stroll. No reason for anyone to think otherwise. Two blocks away was a bus stop, so I took a seat on the bench and waited. Forty minutes later, the car drove away.

  By then, my legs were stiff and my ass was numb from sitting on the cold, hard bench. More than anything, I wanted to get this over with. I just didn’t know if opening Eric Beaufort’s unit would reveal Knox’s stolen items or if this would be another dead end.

  Ditching my jacket again, I entered the code at the automatic gate. It opened, and I went through. I went to the unit and made fast work of the lock. The unit was twelve by thirty. From floor to ceiling, every inch was filled with shelves and boxes.

  I let out a sigh and closed the door. This would take me all night.

  Twenty-three

  I had no idea who Eric Beaufort was, but I was positive of one thing. He was a criminal.

  The boxes on the shelves appeared to be organized chronologically. The ones nearest to the door contained the stolen items from Trey Knox’s house. I didn’t find any cash, but I found his tablet, watches, and most of his sports collection. The items had been divided into three large moving boxes. At the bottom of the last box, I found the championship ring in a Lucite box, seated on a velvet pillow.

  Tucking the ring into my pocket, I looked down the rows of other boxes, wondering how many thefts Eric and his accomplices committed. They probably all had access to the storage unit. And from the looks of it, they’d been quite busy. How long had this been going on?

  I did a quick count of the boxes, stopping when I hit a hundred. Several wooden crates were situated in the back corner of the room. They had international markings all over them. Art, I thought, or artifacts.

  Picking up a pry bar that had been resting against a cabinet along the back wall, I opened one of the crates. The crinkled, hay-colored packing material filled most of the box. Beneath that I found a dozen assault rifles.

  “Shit.”

  Without thinking, I popped open the box beside it. More automatic assault weapons, a few grenades, and some knives. The team of thieves could be smugglers. It’d explain why most of Knox’s items hadn’t been pawned. The buyers were probably overseas. But why was the World Series pennant available for sale at a local pawn shop?

  Sifting through the materials in a third crate, I removed a false top layer which held various ceramic pots and found fifty or so bricks of what I could only assume was cocaine. Thoughts of the men who attacked Freddy came to mind. They took his coke. That could be a coincidence, but it didn’t feel like one.

  I stepped away from the crates and stared at the shelves of boxes. On a whim, I opened a random box from somewhere in the middle. It contained jewelry, likely stolen. The voice in my head reminded me this wasn’t my problem. All I had to do was grab Knox’s stuff and call it a job well done. He only really wanted the ring. I could walk off with that, leave the rest undisturbed, and get away scot-free.

  I didn’t owe the police anything. Officer Gallo said the detective in charge of the investigation was zeroing in on the culprits, but he thought the culprits were a bunch of bored, rich kids. Whoever burglarized Knox’s house wasn’t a bored, rich kid.

  It’s not your problem, I reminded myself, but the guns and drugs nagged at me. They had international labels, indicating they’d recently arrived in this country. They weren’t getting shipped out. They had just come in, which meant they’d be hitting the streets soon. And while I didn’t have the moral high ground when it came to recreational substances, the addition of automatic assault weapons left a bad taste in my mouth and a sinking feeling in my gut. Gang wars, it was the only thing I could come up with. No one should be slaughtered on my watch.

  I might despise the police and bash their actions and inactions. I also claimed to want to privatize policing, to make things better, so I had to do something. But what?

  I gave the boxes containing Knox’s possessions another look. I couldn’t carry out all three boxes without someone noticing, and I definitely didn’t want Eric Beaufort or his unknown accomplices spotting me. Knox only really wanted the ring. I could return that and tip off the authorities about the rest of it. Knox would eventually get the rest of his collection back. It would just take time. Deciding that was the safest play, I headed for the door, but another thought struck me.

  Was the storage unit under surveillance? If I had this kind of hardware and contraband hidden away, I’d keep an eye on it. “Dammit.” As quickly and carefully as possible, I scanned the room. I didn’t see any obvious cameras, but pinhole cameras were hard to detect, and that was only the tip of the iceberg. It’d be best to get out of here as quickly as possible.

  With nothing but the championship ring in hand, I left the unit unlocked and the door open. When I made it back to my car, I put my mask, coat, and tools in the hidden compartment beneath my spare tire. Then I called Officer Gallo using a burner phone I’d taken from the office and gave him the address and unit number.

  “You need to send officers to check it out. I saw a man lugging crates of guns inside.”

  “Who is this?” Gallo asked.

  “That doesn’t matter.”

  “How’d you get this number?”

  “Just get your ass to the storage facility.”

  “Not until you tell me why I should believe you.”

  “I’m a friend.”

  “A friend, huh?” He sounded skeptical. “What else did you see besides guys toting in crates of guns?”

  “A bunch of stolen stuff from open cases. You need to get down there ASAP. They could move it out at any moment.” I hung up, pulled out of the garage, and found a better vantage point.

  Twenty minutes later, a patrol car arrived on scene. I’d given Gallo the code for the gate, and the cruiser pulled through. Legally, I wondered if that was allowed. A few minutes later, more cruisers arrived. They remained outside. An unmarked pulled up, followed by another one. An evidence collection van arrived an hour later.

  Satisfied that I’d done my part, I headed across town to Knox’s house. He answered the door still dressed for work despite the late hour. “The police have found your collection. You’ll be hearing from them soon. They should have recovered most of it. I didn’t take an inventory, so I can’t be sure everything was there. Some of the pieces might have been sold off.”

  “Okay.” Knox raised an eyebrow. “How did they find my stuff? And why did they call you with the news?”

  “That’s not exactly what happened.” I took the ring out of my pocket. “Here. They might have questions for you. You can tell them whatever you want, but I’d suggest you leave me out of this. Their case should be solid, even with this missing piece of evidence. Just don’t make any false insurance claims. That’s not the business I’m in, and I wouldn’t appreciate you using my services for that. Do I make myself clear?”

  “I would never.”

  “Good.” I took a step back. “Our business is concluded. Your bill’s in the mail.”

  I was halfway to my car when Knox called out, “Thanks.”

  * * *

  Assisting the police left a bad taste in my mouth, but it had to be done. At least I could wash my hands of Trey Knox. He probably wasn’t a bad man, but his story never sat right with me. I probably should have passed on the case, but I didn’t. Next time, I’d know better.

  I spent most of the next day conducting interviews. By the time night had fallen, I was ready to relax. Before I left, I stuck a stamp on Knox’s invoice and dropped it in the mailbox. Now I was free.

  But the itchy feeling didn’t go away. If anything, it grew stronger. After checking the time, I headed to
KC’s. As usual, the cop bar was crowded with regulars. I ordered a beer and spun around on the stool to survey the room.

  “Now what are you doing here?” Jim asked as he wiped the bar behind me. He’d missed my entrance, and I had hoped he wasn’t working tonight.

  “Getting drunk or trying to.”

  “Based on the condensation on that glass, you’re not doing it right. Turn around. Drink. Order another. And drink that. We’ll keep going until you can’t stand up straight. Then I’ll take your keys and toss you into a cab. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

  “Not particularly.” I glanced over my shoulder at him. “You planning on getting handsy when you toss me in the cab? That might be fun.”

  “I should wash your mouth out with soap.”

  “Will that help get rid of the taste of this cheap beer?”

  “You don’t like it, go somewhere else. Anywhere else.” Jim’s eyes twinkled. He enjoyed the ribbing and argument, even if I wasn’t entirely sure either of us was kidding.

  “In a sec. I’m waiting for someone.”

  “Who?”

  “Joe Gallo.”

  Jim narrowed his eyes as he scanned the smoky room. “He’s not here.” He looked at the clock on the wall over our heads. “Give him an hour.”

  “Okay.” I turned back around and sipped my beer.

  Jim continued to refill drinks and wipe down the bar, all the while eyeing me. “This is just pathetic. I can’t let you sit there looking like that.” He sighed dramatically. “The least you could have done is dress down. T-shirt and jeans. None of this fancy suit shit. Someone’s going to think the IRS is auditing me.”

  “They don’t dress this nicely.”

  “My point exactly. They’ll probably think you’re trying to sell me insurance.”

  I took another sip of beer. “Deal with it.”

  Jim muttered to himself and pulled out a worn deck of cards and a bowl of pretzels. “You still play poker?”

  “Not as much as I used to. My weekly game kicked me out.”

  “It must have been your personality.” He shuffled the cards. “How ‘bout gin?”

  “Is that supposed to be funny?”

  He snorted and dealt the cards. “Why do you want to talk to Gallo?”

  “I just wanted to see if he had a breakthrough on the case. A client hired me because his house was burglarized. Gallo was first on scene.”

  Jim didn’t offer any snide remarks or comments, which meant he might have heard the other cops talking about last night’s bust. He picked a card and discarded. I grabbed the ace of spades and put down a three of clubs. “What are we playing for?” Jim asked.

  “How about rounds?”

  “Fine. You win, you drink for free. You lose, you pay double. I don’t drink on the job.”

  “That would make one of us.”

  He laughed. “It’s probably a good thing you’re not a cop.”

  “You know what, you’re probably right.” I toasted in his direction and took another sip.

  Three beers later, Gallo showed up. I finished the hand and told Jim to let Gallo drink on my tab.

  “Are you bribing an officer?” Gallo asked.

  “Nope.” I waited for him to settle on the stool beside me. “I just wondered if you’ve made any progress on Knox’s case.”

  “In fact, an anonymous tip came in late last night.” He glanced at me. “But I’m sure you don’t know anything about that.”

  “If I did, why would I waste my breath asking you about it?”

  Gallo shrugged. “From what I heard, most of Knox’s collection was recovered. It’s being held as evidence for the time being. Several other stolen items were also discovered in the same location, as well as contraband. The detectives are still working on narrowing down the leads.”

  “Where was this found?” I asked.

  “A storage unit. Damnedest thing, really.”

  “Was anyone arrested?”

  “Not yet. The person who rented the unit used a fake name and ID. We spoke to the facility’s management. They don’t recall much, or they’re just not talking. But that’s not my problem. I’m not in charge of investigations. That’s above my paygrade.” He turned to me. “Why the sudden interest?”

  “I just wanted to make sure Knox was squared away. I’ve grown tired of his case.”

  “I bet your clients love to hear that.”

  “You’ve met Knox. What do you think of him?”

  Gallo gave me a funny look. “Nothing indicates he’s involved in whatever’s going on inside that storage unit, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “It wasn’t.” But it might have been. “I just wanted to make sure the city’s finest have everything under control before I get back to private security matters.”

  “We got it.”

  “Great.” I tapped the bar to get Jim’s attention. “Night.”

  “Don’t come back,” Jim warned.

  I smiled. “I won’t.”

  Twenty-four

  After I left KC’s, I went to a club. I was no stranger to partying all night and working all day. I hadn’t in a while, but maybe that’s what I needed. Something to distract me from the whispers in my ear.

  Olympus was loud and crowded. I ordered bottle service for a table and homed in on a group of attractive women on the dance floor. Eventually, they felt my stare. I smiled. The leggy blonde smiled back. She turned to her two girlfriends, jerked her head in my direction, and the three of them laughed. Fish in a barrel.

  I poured a shot of vodka into my glass, raised it in their direction, and swallowed it down. Two minutes later, the three of them had clustered around the cushioned, semi-circle of a couch.

  “Do you mind if we join you?” the blonde asked.

  “Not at all.” I sunk back into the seat and nodded at the shot glasses and vodka. “Help yourselves.”

  “I’m Candace,” the blonde said. She picked up a shot glass, teetering on her spike heels as she brushed against my leg and practically sat on top of my thigh. “That’s Helena and Barbie.” She indicated the other two women.

  “Barbie, really?”

  “Barbara.” The brunette glared at Candace. “Candi’s just being a bitch.”

  “I’m Lucien,” I said.

  We made small talk, which consisted of shouting pointless things to one another while we drank. When the bottle was empty, they dragged me onto the dance floor. Someone else caught Helena’s eye, but Barbara and Candace didn’t mind using me as the meat in their sandwich. I didn’t mind either.

  “Do you want to get out of here?” Candace asked, her eyes and hands making her intentions obvious while Barbara blew in my ear. “We could go back to your place.”

  If it hadn’t been for the words my place, I would have said yes. “How ‘bout somewhere else? My place is a mess.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” Barbara insisted. She turned my head to face her and kissed me, her fingers digging into my shoulders. My nerve endings lit up, the pain sobering me.

  Blinking, I pulled back. “Sorry, ladies. I’m game for anywhere but there.”

  Barbara and Candace exchanged a look. “Hotel?”

  I spotted a hotel key in Candace’s hand. My sluggish thoughts snapped to attention. This wasn’t random. I thought I’d zeroed in on them, but they might have zeroed in on me. Turning, I checked to see what happened to Helena, who was now dragging some guy by the collar out the side door.

  “How much?” I asked, hoping I’d get slapped for asking the question. It’d be easier to apologize than face the alternative.

  “For all night with the both of us?” Barbara asked.

  “Jesus.” I rubbed a hand down my face and took a step away from them, needing some distance. I should have realized from their sparkly mini dresses what this was, but in places like this, it was hard to tell sex workers from working women.

  “I’m sure you can afford it.” Candace’s eyes had dropped to my watch.

 
; “Sorry for the confusion, ladies, but I’m not interested.”

  “Are you sure?” Candace ran her hand along the front of my slacks. “From what I can tell, you seem very interested.”

  “Good night, ladies.” I stepped away with the undeniable urge to gargle with something a hundred proof.

  When did I become such a prude? I never would have reacted like this before. Though, I’d also vowed I’d never pay for sex, even when the rest of the guys in the office paid through the nose for their preferred stripper to take a more hands-on approach. But I never crossed that line for tons of reasons, some of which actually involved morals and ethics. So this made no sense.

  Twice in the last two weeks I’d been propositioned by hookers. What the hell was wrong with me? Was I exuding desperation and loneliness after Jade’s departure? Could they smell it on me? Cringing at the notion, I left the club and took a cab home.

  The next day, I told Justin the story, hoping he’d have some insight to offer. Instead, he enjoyed quite the laugh at my expense. But the hookers just made me edgier. The nagging itch in my brain continued to grow. Maybe I was seeing patterns that didn’t exist.

  The first time, the police had been in the midst of a sting operation. Perhaps the same thing happened last night. After all, Danny Foster had been close friends with a cop. I bet he knew plenty more cops. Since Foster was willing to stalk Jade, why wouldn’t the police want to arrest me on some humiliating charges? Getting the story of my arrest blasted across the front of the paper would hurt my business. That could be just the kind of revenge they wanted since the settlement made me otherwise untouchable.

  So the next night, I went to a different club. A few women talked to me, but no one offered to service me or take me home. That should have been a win, but it made me feel as if I was off my game. It also made me wonder if I actually wanted a companion for the evening. The thought held some appeal but not as much as it should. Perhaps I was a little heartbroken.