The pilot set the helicopter down a mile from the site. Couldn’t risk getting any closer than that. If Pennington were there, he would know the moment he heard the rotors thumping that we’d figured out his game.
Cervantes was torn. He kept insisting his partner had nothing to do with this. Then he’d come up with a reason it was plausible. I studied Sam’s reaction, wondering if he was thinking what I was. We’d been best friends for a long time. Was there a chance he harbored evil secrets like Pennington’s?
Sam cut me a look that said something along the lines of are you kidding me.
Was it directed at me? Or the crap Cervantes espoused?
They’d arranged for a state trooper to transport us to a location about five hundred yards from the greenhouse. Sam and I crammed into the backseat with our knees practically pressed against our chests. I kept my gaze fixed on the woods. If I stared long and hard enough, I might just spot Cassie hiding in them.
“What’s that?” Sam said.
I turned my head toward him as he tapped on his window.
“Hey, hey, stop the car.” He grabbed the trooper’s shoulder.
The statie didn’t appreciate the gesture. He shrugged Sam’s hand off, then hit the brakes. If I hadn’t been wedged in so tight, I might’ve slammed into the back of Cervantes’s head.
“What is it?” Cervantes said.
“Back up,” Sam said. “I think I saw something.”
The cruiser traveled in reverse for a few seconds.
“Stop here and let us out.”
The trooper and Cervantes exited and then opened our doors. Sam had a hell of an eye. Driving by at forty-five miles per hour, he spotted two faint tire tracks in the knee-high grass leading into the woods.
“How far are we from the drop-off point?” Cervantes asked the trooper.
“Around the bend ahead, but this is probably just as close.” He ducked back into the cruiser for a moment, then came back nodding his head. “Yeah, only thing between the road and the lot is these woods.”
I moved to the trees and saw the path continued on for a while. “Feel like doing some off-roading?”
A few hundred feet later the trooper stopped near the wood’s edge and we all exited the car again.
“I want you to stay here,” Cervantes instructed the trooper. “I’ll keep you updated with our movements, but if ten minutes pass without me checking in, you call in for backup.”
The guy didn’t seem to have a problem with that. Patrolling the highways was more his speed. He sat back down in his cruiser with one foot on the ground.
We made our way to the lot and waited in the shadows for a minute while surveying the grounds. They were eerily similar to the previous location. A run-down carport with a beat up pickup truck under it. Two greenhouses, though these appeared to be in better shape. The lot was more squared off than the last, and contained no additional permanent structures. I couldn’t recall spotting a house nearby that might be on the same property.
“We do this my way.” Cervantes had his Glock at the ready. “No one shoots unless threatened directly. If you come across Pennington, you keep him in place. He’s my partner. I’ll deal with him. Got it?”
Sam took a deep breath. He didn’t like taking orders from anyone, let alone a detective from another state.
I grabbed his shoulder and leaned in. “You take the lead, Cerv. We’ll follow.”
Sam glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. He knew I hadn’t meant what I said. Both Novak and Pennington had kill on sight written on their foreheads.
We dashed to the carport. The truck’s hood felt warm. It had been running within the past hour. There was trash on the front seat, an empty pack of cigarettes, some energy drink bottles, receipts, and a few empty Budweiser twelve-packs. I checked the glove box for a registration and found a piece of yellow legal paper with an address scrawled on it.
“Look familiar?” I held it up for Cervantes to see.
He shrugged and took it from me. “I’ll follow up on it afterward. Let’s move to the greenhouse.”
The humidity ratcheted up a notch inside the building. The place was alive with tomato plants, some other vegetables, and a section of flowers. Maybe Novak did sell floral arrangements. Two long rows of tables covered in dirt and green. At the far end were two large racks filled with empty planters, bags of dirt and fertilizer, and tools.
I headed to the other side while Sam and Cervantes moved the tables to check behind and underneath.
The ground was packed dirt in some places, gravel in others. I stopped every few feet and kicked at the ground for evidence of recent digging. The greenhouse would make a decent graveyard for someone intent on hiding the dead.
The other property popped into my thoughts once again. Was it possible that Novak had used that location as well before he had been caught? I dragged my heel across the ground in front of me. What if someone had paved over the ground to further conceal the contents underneath? I made a note to have Cervantes follow up on that. They could get a guy out to perform a sonar check and look for anything buried there.
“What do you have down there, Mitch?” Sam said.
I’d spent a couple minutes poking around the supplies and checking behind and underneath the racks. “Nothing, man.”
“Let’s move on to the next greenhouse,” Cervantes said.
The second building was set up much the same as the first. Dirt and gravel floor. Two rows of tables topped with vegetables and flowers with a walkway down the middle. At the end was one supply rack and an empty space next to it.
Our assignments remained the same. Sam and Cervantes began sliding tables around, while I took my time walking to the other end, looking for anything that seemed out of place.
Sam came up with something right away. “Check this out.”
I turned and saw him holding up a shotgun outfitted with a pistol grip and holders for additional rounds.
“Where was that?”
“Duct taped under the table.” He checked the weapon. “And it is ready to go.”
“Hang onto that,” Cervantes said. “Might need it.”
I had been focused before, but it reached a new level. We’d entered the hive. Time to figure out how to penetrate the core.
At the end of the path stood the single supply rack. It contained some of the same items as the other greenhouse, but I also found lye. Now, I never had much of a green thumb. Momma did and kept it all to herself. But I couldn’t think of any uses in a greenhouse for lye off the top of my head.
I moved around the side of the unit and pried my fingers between it and the wall while grabbing a shelf with my other hand. It took a few tries to move the unit six inches out. Other than a few cobwebs, only a shovel on the floor hid behind the shelving. Had it been placed there on purpose?
I took a few steps back and crouched down. My body teetered to the right as though I were off-center on a large balance board. I reached down and brushed the loose dirt aside. My hand grazed against something solid that led to a thin groove. The groove ran about eighteen inches in either direction, cornered, and went behind me. I moved to the side and worked my fingernails in the small gap until I could lift it high enough for my fingertips to grip underneath.
Dry, musky air rushed out. I eased the trapdoor up a few more inches and peered into the darkness. Enough light filtered through to illuminate what appeared to be a corridor. I set the top down and stood up.
“You guys might want to come check this out.”