I let myself into the salon using the keys and crept through the darkness quietly. I paused, listening for the telltale signs that anyone else was in here. The place was still and quiet, and after several long moments, I did a quick sweep of the place just to be sure.
Once I was certain it was all clear, I went into the back room and moved into the open door of the storage room. Inside, I clicked on the single bulb overhead (there were no windows in here for the light to be seen at the street) and whistled between my teeth as I took in the boxes of drugs stacked all around, pretending to be innocent.
A little moment of satisfaction rippled through me because I had gotten here first. It seems the boys in blue at the station managed to keep Julie’s arrest under wraps after all. Thank God.
The fact that I was here doing this wasn’t really protocol for this situation and this amount of drugs, but it was necessary for closing this case. Seizing the drugs and splashing this all over the media would slow down the crew’s operations, but it wouldn’t stop them. Dom wouldn’t pay for everything he’d done. The crew in Myrtle Beach wouldn’t pay for the things they’d done either.
I didn’t just want these drugs off the streets. I wanted the bastard scum who brought the drugs on the streets gone too. The fact that Watson agreed to this (and bending the rules) proved to me how badly he wanted the same things I did.
I hefted several of the boxes into my arms and made my way out to the truck. It took quite a few trips, but I moved quickly and managed to get all the drugs stacked into the bed of the old truck. I filled the entire bottom up with short stacks so no one would even know there was anything back there unless they physically approached the truck and looked.
After making sure the salon was the way I found it, I pulled out of the lot and didn’t look back. Not too long later, my cell phone went off. I glanced at the screen and noted who was calling.
Show time.
“Dom,” I answered. “What’s up?”
“What are you doing right now?” he asked.
“Cruising the streets.”
“It’s time to move the shipment. Get here so I can take you to the stuff.”
I agreed and then hung up. I couldn’t help but wonder about the timing of this. Yeah, I’d been on standby for days now for the call to deliver the drugs. But the cop in me wondered if it wasn’t a coincidence. Did he know the cops found the stash? Did the owner of the salon call him and brag she’d turned him in?
No. That would just be stupid. Susan Highland might be in bed with drug dealers, but she wasn’t stupid. Hell, if she’d set up anyone besides Julie to take the fall for those drugs, it probably would have worked without an issue.
But she did set up Julie.
And Julie was more involved in this than people realized.
It didn’t matter anyway. It didn’t matter if Dom suspected anything because this was my shot, my clear shot at getting these guys. I was going in. I’d keep my eyes open, but I wasn’t backing down.
I drove to the back street where the Mustang was parked. After sitting in a vacant lot across the street and watching the traffic (or lack thereof) and making certain there was no suspicious activity near my car, I steered the truck to the very end of the street and parked it beneath a broken streetlight.
I decided not to carry the Ford’s keys with me. It would seem odd if someone in the crew saw me with more than one set of car keys. Instead of jamming them on my person or stashing them in the glove compartment of my car, I reached up under the wheel well of the back tire and found a small area to place the keys.
Yeah, it was crazy.
Crazy enough to work.
I mean, who in their right mind would leave the keys to a truck secretly stashed with millions of dollars worth of drugs in the back?
Me.
Without a backward glance, I drove away, heading straight for Dom’s place.
His house had an attached one-car garage that was on the side of the house. When I pulled in, I noticed the garage door was open so I figured I’d just go in that way.
A few steps up to the garage and I realized my mistake.
My muscles tensed as my brain registered I wasn’t alone.
The first hit came out of the darkness. His fist slammed into the back of my head, sending me stumbling forward into another punch that knocked my head back on my shoulders. Pain radiated from one side of my head to the other as I stumbled to catch my balance.
Three guys stepped out of the darkness, forming a triangle around me, closing in. Three against one. They weren’t great odds. But I was pissed. I was tired and a fight didn’t sound like a half-bad idea.
Shaking off the pain as best I could, my feet planted solidly on the concrete floor of the garage and I reached out, grabbing the front of a man’s shirt with a great yank. I pulled him off balance and sent him flying into the bumper of the car parked in the garage. The man hit and I saw his back bow against the metal frame. He made a groaning sound as one of the others punched me in the jaw.