“No,” they replied, the whup-whup-whup sounding in the background. “Haven’t seen anyone leave on foot either.”
Good. The bank robbers were still inside the garage.
Having reached the pinnacle, I began to circle down. I was on the third level when Derek’s voice came over the radio. “Found the car! Second floor.”
I grabbed my mic. “Almost there.”
I circled the corner and there it was. The little green Fiat parked between a pickup and a minivan. I pulled my car to a stop behind Derek’s cruiser, angling it so they wouldn’t be able to get past it if they backed out.
Derek climbed out of his car and hunkered down beside it, his gun at the ready.
I ordered Brigit to lay and keep her head down. The last thing I wanted was my partner to get hurt if this ended in a shootout. She obeyed and I gave her a “good girl.”
Keeping my head low, I slipped out of my patrol car, readied my gun, and bent down beside my front bumper.
Derek hollered over his hood. “You in the Fiat! Come out with your hands up!”
We waited for several seconds but there was no movement.
I peeked through the windows of my car at the Fiat. With the dim lighting in the garage, the shadow cast by the minivan, and the tinting on the car’s windows, it was difficult to tell whether anyone was actually still in the car. They could be ducked down in the seats.
“Is anyone inside?” I called to Mackey.
He raised a palm to indicate Who knows? and called out again. “Everyone in the Fiat come out now! Hands in the air!”
Still nothing. We’d have to go in. Ugh. For all we knew, the bank robbers were ducked down inside ready to open fire at close range when we approached. I was tempted to suggest we call the SWAT team, but I knew Derek would never go for it. The guy lived for this kind of dangerous confrontation. Once again, I found myself wishing for more testosterone. Maybe they could put it in some type of fruity smoothie drink. A citrus-flavor one. They could call it a Tangerinerone.
Though I considered this case to be mine, not his, I voiced no objection when Mackey took charge now. He waved a hand, motioning for me to follow him as he approached the car.
I took a breath to steel my nerves and crept out from behind my car, approaching the Fiat from the right while Mackey approached from the left. When we reached the car, he shouted “Doors! Now!”
I grabbed the passenger door and yanked it open while Mackey opened the driver’s side door. We peeked into the cab, our eyes meeting over the empty space.
“Dammit!” He slammed his door and stood fully upright. “They must be on foot somewhere in the garage.”
“I’ll send Brigit after them.” I was headed back to my cruiser to let her out when an odd noise reached my ears. Hoo-hoo-hah-hah. Hoo-hoo-hah-hah.
What was that sound? The ventilation system? Some type of hydraulics for the elevator?
The question was answered when a thirtyish man and a very pregnant woman performing breathing techniques rounded the corner at the bottom of the ramp.
“Police!” the man called, waving his arm. “Three men just stole our car!”
The woman paused, putting one hand on the trunk of a shiny black Chrysler and the other on her belly, grimacing.
Derek and I hurried down to them.
“What happened?” I asked.
Hoo-hoo-hah-hah.
The man put a supportive hand on his wife’s back and turned to me, his eyes wide. “We were getting out and three men ran up and demanded my keys. Then they jumped in and drove off!”
“What kind of car was it?” I asked.
The woman straightened as the contraction evidently eased. “A 2008 Honda Accord. It’s white.” She looked up at her husband. “Our brand-new baby seat was in the back.”
“We’ll do our best to get it back,” I told them. “Baby seat and all.”
I contacted the chopper again. “The men bailed on the Fiat and stole a white Honda Accord. Have you seen one leave the garage?”
Brief chatter ensued as the pilot and the other officer in the chopper compared mental notes.
“We think it may have exited a minute or so ago. We’ll go higher and see if we can spot it.”
Without conferring with me, Mackey backed toward his cruiser. “This is your case, Luz. I’ll let you wrap things up here.”
My chest tightened in anger. I knew why Derek was suddenly deferring to me. So he could get back out on the streets and try to find the bank robbers. Call me spiteful, but I’d be really pissed off if Mackey caught these guys when I’d been the one working the investigation all day, interviewing witnesses, chasing these jerks all over town. But what could I do? One of us needed to finish up here, and Mackey was already climbing into his cruiser.
Hoo-hoo-hah-hah.
While Derek drove past us and headed off down the ramp, I whipped out my notepad and quickly jotted down the couple’s contact information. “I’ll let you know as soon as your car is located. Good luck with the birth. And congratulations!”
“Thanks.” The woman offered me a smile that morphed into a cringe as another contraction hit. Hoo-hoo-hah-hah.
I returned to my cruiser. Seemed I’d been in and out of my car a thousand times today.
As my butt hit the seat, my phone pinged with a text from Seth. Just say when on the margaritas.
I sent him a quick reply. Wrapping things up. Will be back in touch with an ETA ASAP.
It was now a few minutes after five o’clock and my shift was officially over, but protocol—and my work ethic—dictated that I continue my pursuit, at least until the evening shift officers could be caught up on the details. I also wanted to pursue the theory I had about the yellow R on the note. If the letter had, in fact, been cut from a depiction of a railroad crossing sign, it could implicate Christopher Vogel, couldn’t it? Or could it be mere coincidence?
As I pulled out of the parking garage, I forced myself to try to think like a criminal. If I’d robbed a bank, stolen a city bus, torched a convenience store, and performed a series of car-jackings, which way would I go to ditch the vehicle?
Hmm …
If I’d been heading north when encountering the police not long before, maybe I’d turn south when I exited the garage, to keep the cops guessing. I might also ditch the car near the Texas Christian University campus, which sat not far to the west. There were always hordes of people walking around the university area. No one would think twice about three men on foot.
It was worth a shot, right? If I found them, hooray for me—assuming, of course, they didn’t shoot me dead. If I didn’t find them, well, I had a frozen margarita and a hot guy to look forward to.
As I headed south down the divided part of University Drive, I rolled to a stop at a red traffic light. As I sat there, waiting for the light to turn green, I glanced around at the people making their way down the sidewalks and through the crosswalk in front of me. Many of the college boys and some of the girls wore baseball caps. For some it was a show of support for one sports team or another. For others, it was a way of hiding the fact that they’d rolled out of bed late and hadn’t had time to shower or wash their hair before going to class.
Seeing the caps brought my mind back to the photo of Lewis Blakemore in which he’d been wearing the striped hat. Unlike a regular ball cap, his hat had appeared slightly looser and taller on top.
Just like the type worn by a train conductor.
Holy wow! Had I just found a possible connection between him and Vogel? A train fetish?
Before I could process the thought, a white sedan with a twentyish Caucasian guy at the wheel pulled to a stop at the light in the northbound lane. A black man sat in the passenger seat, a second Caucasian man in the back. My eyes went to the license plate. Sure enough, it was the number the pregnant woman had given me. My prediction that the men would head to the university area had proven correct. Yay for me.