cow-tipping. The whole thing doesn’t fit with normal vandalism and school pranks. Gibson’s Run teens aren’t this neat and organized. This is the work of someone who knows their way around explosives and how to keep the outcome quick and clean.” His brain flashed to the empty sedan and its showroom new interior. His chair legs scraped against the floor under the pressure of his added weight. “Ladies, I hate to run out on this conversation, but there’s something I need to check out.” He rammed his hat on his head and nodded to Maggie as he jogged through the front door.
Discussion over his love life would have to be shelved. He had a suspicious car’s owner to track down. Cleanliness may be next to godliness, but he had a gut feeling that his neat freak had little to do with God-like behavior.
8
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sean,” Alvin hollered.
Before Sean lifted his hand in a wave good-night, the front door closed behind his deputy.
The background check on the abandoned sedan had come in fifteen minutes earlier. According to Alvin, the system was down during the week, and that was why he wasn’t able to get any of the information until this afternoon. Alvin had probably forgotten about the assignment until Sean reminded the deputy earlier today.
Now that he had the information on the rental car and its renter, his curiosity could be satisfied. The car was picked up at Dulles Airport by a Stephen A. Smith. A common name, but not one he could connect to a local. He wished the town council had approved his project plan to install a link to the FBI and the State of Ohio databases.
But they had turned him down because there wasn’t anything but petty crime in Gibson’s Run.
He couldn’t argue with their logic at the time. He swiveled his chair to the computer and did a search for the car rental branch at Dulles and dialed the number. He waited on hold for several minutes before a woman informed him that their manager wouldn’t be in until the next day, but she would be sure to leave a message for him to call. With one dead end, he dialed a sure thing, his old partner in Columbus, Chuck Riley.
“Riley,” the voice was gruff.
Sean grinned at his partner’s tone. “Taylor.”
“Hey, man, how’s the party planning going? Guess you suburb yokels have all the free time in the world to pick out plates and pastries. The rumors are true, small town cops are just girls who shave.”
“Listen here, old man, I’m the one doing you a favor to keep your butt from getting all toasty in the fire when Shelia finds out you were really supposed to pull this whole thing together. Your wife would never have forgiven you if you stole the opportunity from her to get all dressed up. And the FOP will be singing your praises, all because I kept you from burning and saved the day.” Sean leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet on top of the desk.
“Don’t you mean Jane Barrett? And it isn’t exactly a success yet, or don’t you remember a few of your other exploits? Need I remind you of a certain drug bust that went south when you found out you had an FBI informant locked up with a Ten-Most-Wanted? Wouldn’t want to see you crash and burn like that, my friend.”
“Hrmph,” Sean cleared his throat and sat up. “I didn’t call to talk about the party. I need a favor.” He could hear Chuck’s chair scrape the floor.
“What do you need?”
“I’ve got a rental car parked in town, and I’m fairly certain the person who rented it used a fake ID.” He passed on the information in Sissy’s log and his own observations. Sean scrubbed his face. “I know it might seem minor, but with the explosion at the station something doesn’t feel right about it. I’m probably making it a much bigger deal than what it is, but I like my little community quiet. I don’t want anything messing it up.”
“I’ll run the background on the driver’s license and the tags. You might want to call the rental place
Discussion over his love life would have to be shelved. He had a suspicious car’s owner to track down. Cleanliness may be next to godliness, but he had a gut feeling that his neat freak had little to do with God-like behavior.
8
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Sean,” Alvin hollered.
Before Sean lifted his hand in a wave good-night, the front door closed behind his deputy.
The background check on the abandoned sedan had come in fifteen minutes earlier. According to Alvin, the system was down during the week, and that was why he wasn’t able to get any of the information until this afternoon. Alvin had probably forgotten about the assignment until Sean reminded the deputy earlier today.
Now that he had the information on the rental car and its renter, his curiosity could be satisfied. The car was picked up at Dulles Airport by a Stephen A. Smith. A common name, but not one he could connect to a local. He wished the town council had approved his project plan to install a link to the FBI and the State of Ohio databases.
But they had turned him down because there wasn’t anything but petty crime in Gibson’s Run.
He couldn’t argue with their logic at the time. He swiveled his chair to the computer and did a search for the car rental branch at Dulles and dialed the number. He waited on hold for several minutes before a woman informed him that their manager wouldn’t be in until the next day, but she would be sure to leave a message for him to call. With one dead end, he dialed a sure thing, his old partner in Columbus, Chuck Riley.
“Riley,” the voice was gruff.
Sean grinned at his partner’s tone. “Taylor.”
“Hey, man, how’s the party planning going? Guess you suburb yokels have all the free time in the world to pick out plates and pastries. The rumors are true, small town cops are just girls who shave.”
“Listen here, old man, I’m the one doing you a favor to keep your butt from getting all toasty in the fire when Shelia finds out you were really supposed to pull this whole thing together. Your wife would never have forgiven you if you stole the opportunity from her to get all dressed up. And the FOP will be singing your praises, all because I kept you from burning and saved the day.” Sean leaned back in his chair and kicked his feet on top of the desk.
“Don’t you mean Jane Barrett? And it isn’t exactly a success yet, or don’t you remember a few of your other exploits? Need I remind you of a certain drug bust that went south when you found out you had an FBI informant locked up with a Ten-Most-Wanted? Wouldn’t want to see you crash and burn like that, my friend.”
“Hrmph,” Sean cleared his throat and sat up. “I didn’t call to talk about the party. I need a favor.” He could hear Chuck’s chair scrape the floor.
“What do you need?”
“I’ve got a rental car parked in town, and I’m fairly certain the person who rented it used a fake ID.” He passed on the information in Sissy’s log and his own observations. Sean scrubbed his face. “I know it might seem minor, but with the explosion at the station something doesn’t feel right about it. I’m probably making it a much bigger deal than what it is, but I like my little community quiet. I don’t want anything messing it up.”
“I’ll run the background on the driver’s license and the tags. You might want to call the rental place
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