“Hiram?” Shelton was eyeing me closely. “You okay, man? ’Cause I’m not getting a hand truck to lift your sorry butt. Suck it up.”
“No.” I bounced to my feet. “Look at these wet streaks. The grass. That hedge. Something heavy was rolled through here. I’m guessing a hand truck.”
Tory was beside me in flash. “Where? Show me.”
I explained my observations, step by step.
Shelton whistled. “You see like a damn eagle.”
“Great work, Hi.” Tory beamed.
I drank in the praise. “Also, whatever the load was, it came through here in the last few hours.”
Shelton frowned. “How can you tell?”
“Wet wheels.” Tory looked to me for confirmation.
“Correctamundo. It hasn’t rained for days. Whatever made these tracks must’ve rolled through last night’s dew. These tread marks will evaporate soon. They’re almost gone now.”
Ben chucked my shoulder. “Nice work, Thick Burger.”
“Thank yourself. If you hadn’t viciously assaulted me, I’d never have noticed.”
Ben nodded stoically. “So in a way, I’m the hero.”
I snorted. “Benjamin, you’ve done it again.”
“These tracks lead . . . there.” Tory walked to the last garage door in the row.
Though dirty, it looked serviceable. But a trio of rusty barrels blocked it.
Ben walked over and tugged the handle. It wouldn’t budge.
“Aha.” He kicked the base of the door. “There’s a spiffy new padlock.”
“Look at the pavement near the wall.” Shelton pointed to a spot a dozen yards away, in the corner of the driveway. Red-brown accretions tarnished the concrete. “Those are rust stains, from these barrels. They used to be over there. Somebody’s hiding something!”
I puffed out my chest. “I’d like to take a moment to thank all the little people who contributed to my success. Shelton, you’ve always been a stand-up guy, and—”
“Can it, Hi.” Ben shoved one of the barrels. “Water, I think. Half empty.”
Tory was all business. “We have to get inside.”
“On it.” Ben tossed Shelton his shades, wrapped his arms around a barrel, lifted, and hauled it to the side. Golden eyes gleaming, he repeated the process three more times until the doorway was clear.
Tory looked at Shelton. Pointed to the padlock.
“Why not get Kit?” Shelton whined. “Why break in?”
“Because we don’t know if we’re right,” Tory said calmly. “What if these tracks have nothing to do with the theft? You feel like looking ridiculous?”
“Always bullying me into felonies,” Shelton mumbled.
He pulled out his key chain and selected from his trusty lock-pick set. In moments Shelton was on one knee, jimmying the padlock.
“Wish I’d never bought these stupid picks,” Shelton grumbled. “Now I’m a damn universal entry card.”
“Poor baby.” Tory squeezed Shelton’s shoulder. “Victim of your own talent.”
“Ain’t that the truth.”
Ben moved to the wall to keep watch. He needn’t have bothered.
In less than a minute I heard a click.
Shelton stood, handed Tory the padlock. “There.” Shaking his head. “One more B and E for my juvie record. I’ll never be president.”
“Pssh.” I flapped a hand. “The Oval Office is perfect for a criminal like you.”
Tory reached for the handle and pulled. This time, the door rose easily.
Single file, we snuck inside.
Last to enter, I lowered the door behind us.
Little daylight cut through the dirt-crusted windows high overhead, leaving the room draped in shadows. Safely alone in the dark, we all pocketed our shades.
“Ben?” Tory’s irises blazed in the gloom. “Find a switch, please.”
Why? We can see just fine.
But I searched the wall and flipped on the halogens. Light flooded the depot.
My eyes quickly adjusted.
When flaring, everything I did was quick.
Tory, Hi, and Shelton had clustered in the center of the room.
I looked around. We were in a typical mechanics’ garage.
The room was a large square, with three vehicle bays stationed against the far wall, each housing a pair of four-wheel ATVs. Between the bays, large windows looked in on several small offices accessed by a door in the corner.
Heavy equipment lined the left-hand wall, along with metal shelves and three bulky storage bins. The right-hand wall held a row of workstations, each with a tool chest, stool, and large table. A second door led to the other section of the building.
I recognized a few items. Others left me baffled.
LIRI is remote and needs full-service maintenance capability. Short of actually making spare parts, this facility could handle just about any breakdown.
“Check this bad boy out!” Hi was admiring one of the four-wheelers. “Vroom vroom! What I wouldn’t give to take this puppy for a spin.”
“Break your fool neck.” Shelton rapped an odd metal grillwork welded to its rear. “What’s this thing? Looks like a giant bicycle basket.”
“It is.” Tory said. “These ATVs are used to stock the monkey feeders scattered across the island. The feed bags are too heavy to carry, especially if you’re heading to the swamp, or up to Tern Point.”
“Nonsense.” Hi slipped into the driver’s seat. “These are terrorist first-response vehicles. We keep them to repel pirate attacks. Or to fight the monkeys, when they finally evolve and try to take our planet.”
“Doofus.” I barked a laugh.
Tory suddenly stiffened. “I smell it!”
Three heads swung her way.
“My bad.” Hi’s face flushed scarlet. “It’s a big room, and I didn’t think anyone would notice if—”
“No.” Tory waved off the comment. “And, ew, by the way.”
Tory stuck her nose to the grillwork. Inhaled. “Here! Same scent as on the wood chip.” Her eyes widened as something clicked. “It’s the monkey chow! Wheat. Soybean. Raisins. Why didn’t I put it together before?”
Shelton raised the roof. “Which means we’re on the money!”
Tory’s eyes cut to me. “Does the other depot service feeder ATVs?”
I knew the answer. “Nope. It houses two more four-wheelers, but they’re lighter models used mostly for vet emergencies.”
I slapped the vehicle beside me. “These babies do all the feeder runs.”
“So where do they store the grub?” Hi hopped down. “That’s the question, right?”
You know that, too, Benny boy.
I pointed to the hulking bins in the left corner. “Right. There.”
We raced over. Three minivan-sized storage containers were lined up in a row. Each had a single yard-square metal door, set five feet off the ground. A pair of steel steps had been welded to the base of each bin for easier access.
“They’re big enough,” Shelton said. “You could hide a horse inside one of these.”
Hi flourished a hand toward the grimy bins. “A trio of boxes, but only one prize.” He wrapped an arm around Tory’s shoulder, pretending to hold a microphone in his other hand. “Young lady, you’re our next contestant!”
I felt a pang of jealously, but stomped it to death.
Dumb. Dumb dumb dumb.
Tory played along, wide-eyed and enthusiastic. “What can I win? A new Prius?”
Hi arched a single brow. “Choose correctly, and you’ll receive the undying respect and admiration of your peers! Plus a Twinkie.”
Then his yellow eyes narrowed, his tone dropping to an ominous growl. “Choose wrong,
and we’ll lock you inside the bin, then feed you to the monkeys.”
“Sounds wonderful!” Tory stepped forward and inspected her options. Then she pointed to the filthiest of three. “This one.”
“May I ask why?” Hi extended his fake mike.
Her reply was non-nonsense. “Because it’s the only one locked.”
She climbed the steps and lifted a glossy black padlock securing the bin’s door.
“Oh man.” Shelton kicked the base of the container, then winced and grabbed his foot. “Ouch! That was stupid. Don’t anybody else do that.”
“Check the other two first?” I suggested.
“Obviously.” Hi stepped up, swung a bin door, and peered inside. “Filled to the brim with monkey feed. And I’m not gonna lie, this stuff looks mighty tasty. Like a giant box of trail mix. When are we eating lunch, anyway?”
“I hope the gear isn’t buried in there,” Shelton said. “Could get messy.”
“Not a good place for storing laptops.” Hi hopped back down to the floor. “Might void the warranty.”
I opened the next bin with an echoing clang.
“Nothing.” Sticking my head inside. “Empty.”
Hi reached up and grabbed Tory’s hand. “Looking good for that Twinkie!”
Another jealous twinge. Ruthlessly extinguished.
What’s wrong with me lately?
“Door number three.” Tory tapped the lock. “Shelton. Work your magic, please.”
“At least I got a ‘please’ this time.”
They switched places. But Shelton had barely lifted a finger before stepping back and shaking his head. “Sorry, folks. No can do. This is a Granit closed-shackle padlock, not some BS school-locker model. High security design, too. This sucker uses an ABUS Plus disc cylinder with two hundred and fifty thousand key variations. It can be picked, but I need different tools. I only carry the basics on my key chain.”
Tory chewed her lower lip. I could practically see her mind racing.
I stepped up to examine the locked bin. It was old and battered, its color morphed from pewter to a dingy reddish brown.
My flaring eyes traced the rusty metal door. Noted the decaying hinges.
“Okay.” Tory spoke aloud as she worked through ideas. “We need some kind of cutters. The padlock looks solid, but maybe if—”
“Relax.”
Planting my feet against the side of the bin, I gripped the door handle with both hands and jerked backward.
Nothing. The metal held.
Digging deeper, I closed my eyes. Tugged again.
The steel whined, but refused to give.
“So it’s like that.” I slid my feet up until I was practically hanging sideways.
“Take it easy, slugger.” Hi drew a hand across his neck. “Know when to say when.”
“I’m just getting warmed up.”
Deep breath.
A growl escaped my lips as I wrenched with every ounce of strength in my body, willing the door to move.
Creeeeeeak.
CRACK!
I flew backward, skidded across the concrete floor, and crashed into Hi’s legs.
Hi went down like a bowling pin, knocking over a bucket beside the closest ATV. Something brown and sticky oozed onto his checkerboard shoes.
“I’m cursed!” he moaned. “These are limited-edition Vans.”
SNUP.
My flare vanished.
Losing the power was always a drag. Normal human senses seemed almost a punishment. Like some part of me died. I hated the feeling.
It took a moment to realize I still gripped the bin door in my hands.
Flipping it aside, I tried to clear the cobwebs.
“Whoa!” Shelton offered me a hand, golden light fading from his eyes. “Nice job, Hulkster.”
I shrugged, still woozy. “Simplest solution.”
A glance at Tory. She was beaming at me with normal emerald-green irises.
I felt my cheeks flush. “Help me up, Devers. I nearly broke my neck.”
“What is this gunk?” Hi was wiping his shoes with a dirty rag. “Not cool.”
His flare was gone, too. Why do they go out as one?
“Hey, guys?” Shelton slipped on his prescription specs and pointed to the now-open bin. “Moment of truth.”
“Wait!” Hi scrambled to his feet, oily sneakers squeaking on the concrete. “This is my game show!”
Hi charged up the steps. His upper body disappeared inside the container. I heard rustling noises, then he reappeared with a MacBook in one hand and modem in the other. “Anyone wanna play some Halo?”
“Oh, snap!” Shelton started dancing Gangnam style. “Somebody get that girl a Twinkie! Hell, give her a whole box!”
We ran to Hi, who started handing down hardware. Laptop. Server. Microscope. Centrifuge. The dollar value rapidly climbed into the tens of thousands.
We formed a chain, stacking the stolen equipment on the concrete floor.
As the pile grew, I couldn’t help smiling like an idiot.
We’d actually foiled the robbery. Amazing.
So why the look of annoyance on Tory’s face?
“What is it?” I asked.
She waved at the expanding pile of gear. “We still don’t know who took it.”
“Hey, we did the hard part.” Hi handed a router to Ben and climbed down. “That’s the last of it. Let the cops figure out who’s guilty. What we need to focus on is this footwear disaster. Somebody owes me a new pair of kicks.”
He stamped his feet, trying shed liquid from his dirty soles.
“Whoever did this is no genius.” Shelton adjusted his glasses. “What was the plan here? Keep the gear in this bin, forever? Sneak it out one piece at a time? Child, please. Once security is back online, there’s zero chance of getting this stuff through the gates, much less off the island.”
True. As heists go, I thought this was a particularly dumb one.
But, as usual, Tory had a better take. “No. It would’ve worked.”
We all stopped to listen.
“It’s clever, actually.” Tory rapped the storage bin with her knuckles. “This was probably just for the night.”
Shelton crossed his arms. “How can you know that?”
“Think about it. The crook planned this break-in for a night security was down. But the gates are always monitored, even then, and the last regular shuttle leaves at eight. So he stashed the equipment here, knowing he couldn’t possibly get it off the island aboard Hugo.”
“Very true,” I said. “My father’s no dope. He’d prevent anyone from transporting a horde of high-tech equipment off Loggerhead.”
Tory began to pace. A good sign.
“Even with no cameras, it’s practically impossible to get something bulky past LIRI’s fence unnoticed.” She pointed to the closest ATV. “But these go out every Monday morning, to restock the feeders. And they always carry a massive load.”
Suddenly, the answer jumped out at me.
Of course.
“So the thief dumps the stuff in here until morning,” I said slowly, marveling at the plan’s elegant simplicity, “then wraps everything in feed bags, loads an ATV, and drives it all right through the gate.”
“Wow.” Shelton’s eyes rounded. “Hiding in plain sight.”
Hi nodded appreciatively. “And once outside the fence, our devious felon could stash the gear anywhere. Pick it up later by boat. Just like a pirate, really.”
“By this time tomorrow,” Tory finished, “the whole thing would’ve been over.”
“Hold up.” Shelton’s palms rose. “If the crook couldn’t get the hardware out, then how’d he get out?” Eyes widening, he dropped into a battle-
crouch. “Is the thief still in here, too!?”
Tory shook her head. “With security down, a motivated criminal could slip over the perimeter fence easy enough. It’s not razor-wired or anything, to protect the monkeys from injury. I bet the jerk either secretly stayed behind after the last ferry, then went to work and climbed out, or came back by private boat after midnight, scaling the fence twice.”
I kept my face blank, but inside, I marveled. Tory puts things together so fast!
“Real talk,” Hi said, “we’re the only reason the scheme didn’t work. No chance Chief Tight Pants or those cops figure it out fast enough. I’d say we rock pretty freaking hard.”
“But we still don’t know who!” Tory threw both hands above her head.
“True, but we’ve narrowed the pool of suspects.” Hi began ticking points on his fingers. “LIRI employee. Has access to the depot. Makes feeder runs. Probably works on Monday. That can’t be more than a half-dozen people. Have Kit check the time sheets. Easy.”
I ignored Hiram. Watched Tory instead.
And knew she’d rather explode than hand off this investigation.
That’s when I got my idea.
“What about the tool, Tory?”
“Huh?” Ben’s question snapped me from a funk.
We’re going to solve this. We ARE.
I couldn’t imagine quitting. What kind of detective leaves a job half done?
“The cabinets in Lab Three.” Ben spoke slowly, but with uncharacteristic eagerness. “They were pried open, remember?”
He pointed to the row of workstations against the opposite wall. “Wouldn’t the criminal use something he could trust?”
Of course.
I felt a jolt of excitement. “Something he worked with every day!”
“Brilliant deduction, my Native American friend!” Hi nodded sagely. “No, really, I’m being serious. Good thinking, Blue.”
“Makes sense,” Shelton agreed. “If I’m about to risk a felony, I’d use a tool I was familiar with. One I could count on.”
“You’re a genius.” I reached out and squeezed Ben’s shoulder.
He stiffened. Then reddened.
I snatched my hand back. Touchy.
Hi was already crossing the garage. “Let’s check for anything strong enough to force a cabinet. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”