Chapter Sixty-Three: We Got Him

 

After Gray and Holder leave, I look at Brock and smile.

“Did you see that excitement, the anticipation in his face? It’s him, Brock.”

"It sure seems like it. And he will try and get the stash, if it’s there, before the department does, which means tonight.”

“Yes, and Gray is obtaining the warrant to search the basement. It may take him a day, allowing Holder to head him off. We need to talk to the neighbors now and tell them what we and the police, don’t forget about that, suspects. We have them leave for the night, pay for a hotel, and keep a window slightly ajar or easy access for Holder to get in. We plant a tiny camera, like the ones Gray found here, to capture the whole scene.”

“The rat gets trapped.”

“Follow the smell,” I add a bit snarky.

“Yep.” He winks.

I contact Gray and tell him of our plan.

“I like it. But I want to come with you when you talk to the neighbor. They will take it more seriously if it comes from a police officer.”

“Fair enough. But we have to do it this evening.”

“I agree. I’ll meet you here at 7:00. They should be home on a school night. Maybe the kids will be in bed or at least in their room. I’m getting a warrant signed soon by the judge.”

I get off the phone with Gray. Now, we wait.

Since we have hours to wait and I need something to occupy my time, I head out and get some spring plants. I’m still vigilant, checking my rearview and side mirror every minute or so on the way to the nursery. So far, so good.

The perfect spring plants for our area are pansies, hyacinths, primrose, and tulips, daffodils, and crocus that come from bulbs. Since I already have a bunch of bulbs starting to come up, I wanted to add some plants as a border in my gardens. I find purple, pink, yellow, white, and peach colors that will complement the bulbs and head home to plant them. The weather is nice and even somewhat warm as it’s close to April. We can still get snow, but I’ll take the warmth. After spending the afternoon planting and taking my mind off tonight, I take some pics and record about 15 minutes of video for my YouTube channel. The colors blend nicely with my bulbs and I can see the gardens come alive.

Later that evening after Brock and I have eaten, we wait for Brock. It’s nearing 7:00 and anxiety starts creeping into my stomach. This could go very wrong, but it’s the only way to catch Holder in the act.

Gray shows up a little after 7:00 and we invite him in. He takes out a piece of paper. “Here’s the warrant. Are you ready to do this?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Brock nods in agreement.

“Okay. So, we’ll go over and I’ll present the warrant. Whatever we find, we need to ensure it can be readily available and even seen. The window will be left unlocked. I will plant a tiny camera somewhere inconspicuous and watch the basement at your home via my laptop. If he comes and finds the stash, I will call up Officer Lopez and we will make a quiet raid on him.”

I nod, my hands feeling clammy and cold. When I watch this type of thing go down on TV, I know it’s not real, but now that it’s happening next door, it’s a little unnerving.

I grab a jacket and bend down and pet Herc, telling him to stay here and watch the house for us. He whines a little but stays back when we open the door.

The night air is a little cool but otherwise clear. The sun is going down, a perfect time, as the darker it gets, the more Holder will take advantage of the cover.

When we get to the door, Gray knocks and announces his name and rank. The door opens and a woman of about thirty stands with a little boy in her arms. Her brown hair is pulled into a messy ponytail, and she looks haggard, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. Her green eyes match that of her son.

“Hi, ma’am, we don’t mean to bother you,” Gray says. “I have a warrant to search the basement.”

“My basement?” She looks alarmed.

“We have reason to believe that there may be drugs or money stashed in the basement from the previous owner. He was a drug dealer before leaving the home and left some of his stash in your neighbor’s shed.” He motions to Brock and I. “We think he used two places to hide the drugs.”

“Seriously?” She looks like she’s done for the day as I heard yelling in the background and saw two other kids running past the hall. “You’d better not be running,” she says over her shoulder. The little boy in her arms starts whimpering. “Oh, not you, too.” She looks as if she’s about to cry. “Cory!”

Her husband comes to the door. “What’s up, Camille?” He’s about six inches taller than her, with wavy brown hair and blue eyes. He looks fit, wearing a muscle shirt. He stuffs his hands in his pockets.

Gray explains what we’re doing here again. “Damn, seriously? No wonder the price was so cheap."

“We didn’t know and still don’t know if drugs are here, just a hunch. If we find them, we believe someone may try and break in to get them.”

“What?” Camille’s eyes go wide.

“We'll plant a camera where it can’t be seen, and we’ll be next door watching. If he opens up an unlocked window and finds the drugs, we can immediately be here to catch him. If you feel more comfortable leaving for the night, we will understand.” Brock watches their faces. I feel bad that he has to deal with this tonight.

“I sure as hell am not staying here if some thug is going to try and steal drugs in the basement. I’ll call my parents and see if we can stay there for the night. They live in Salt Lake City,” Camille says.

“How sure are you that drugs are in the basement?” Cory adds.

“We aren’t, but why would this person hide drugs in a neighbor’s shed when he had plenty of space in his own basement?”

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense,” Cory says.

“Please, come in,” Camille backs up and allows us in. “Let’s just see if the drugs are here before we do anything.”

“That’s what we’re here for.” He produces the warrant and shows it to Camille and Cory.

“Let me put a video on for the kids and put the baby down,” Camille says. “Cory can show you the basement.”

We all follow Cory to the basement. I quickly glance in the foyer and the living room. The house looks very different than what Deanna and Troy had it. They used mainly browns and reds for their furniture with crème throw pillows and taupe walls, while Cory and Camille chose the lighter colors of blues and greens with accents of slate gray and white.

Cory gets to the door and flicks on the light, illuminating the stairs - they're carpeted and the walls white. I don't what I'm expecting, but every time I watch a horror flick, the stairs always creak, as if one more person stepping down would collapse them, and the light is dim. We follow Cory down the steps. Deanna said Troy would finish the basement, but that never happened.

“We don’t ever come down here. I thought one of these days, I would finish it, but with the way the economy is now, it may not be for years. The two boys sleep in one room, the girl in the other, and we take the third bedroom,” Cory explains as we get to the basement.

I scan the area, trying to find a place where Troy would have hidden the drugs.

“Well, there’s not much here,” Brock states the obvious. Other than sheetrock and concrete and the furnace and water heater in the corner, I can’t see anywhere else Troy would have stashed drugs. A window at the back catches my attention. It’s large enough for someone to climb through, perfect. Another smaller window in the corner lets in some sunshine and is much smaller.

We split up and search the area. It’s good-sized but empty. I suddenly feel like an idiot thinking Troy could hide anything here, let alone drugs and possibly money. Just as I’m about to say something, I notice a cylindrical object tucked under the stairs.

I walk over, peer under it, and see a steel drum in the shadows. “Hey, over here,” I wave everyone over. “There,” I point under the stairs. Gray kneels and pulls the drum out. It fit perfectly on its side, and no one would have noticed unless they were practically on their knees searching for it. He dons some gloves and opens the lid as we all look, anticipating what we’ll find. I’m the first one to gasp as I see stacks and stacks of bills piled on each other. And on the sides, little packets taped to the drum with white powder in them.

“Jackpot,” Brock says. Cory lets out a small whistle.

“You called it Trice, “Gray says. He pulls out his phone and takes snapshots of the drum and then the stash hidden inside. He then punches in a number. “Hey, Lopez, we found it.” He sticks his phone in his back pocket. “She’s dispatching Holder and they’re on their way. You and your family need to stay somewhere else for the night,” he says, turning to Cory. It was at this time that Camille came down the steps.

“You found it.” She comes over and sees for herself. “Wow.”

“We need to get the kids and head to your mom’s house,” Cory says.

“I called and they said to come over.” Camille is still staring into the drum.

“Okay, good. We need to make this drum a little more visible but not by much. We want Holder to see it and then gauge his reaction. Watch to see if he scans the area. If it’s him, he will come back later tonight, late, possibly. Keep all lights off and lock the doors so he thinks you’re sleeping. They’ll be here in ten minutes. Get a few things packed and head out.”

Cory and Camille rush up the stairs and Gray closes the lid and slides it under the stairs, leaving the drum a little visible.

“You two leave now and I’ll meet you at your house after Lopez and Holder have come. I will have Holder take photos and tell both that we’ll get the drug unit out to retrieve the drum in the morning. He will know he has tonight to get the drugs and money.”

Brock and I leave while Gray stays, plants the camera, and waits for the officers to come. Camille and Cory are packing the kids in the car when we rush back to the house.

The trap has been set.