Cash Landing by James Grippando Page B

they would have made some modifications to the box to keep the truck from rolling out the back door.”
    Another car pulled up, and a young assistant state attorney got out.
    â€œHere’s our warrant,” said Watts.
    The prosecutor had a pissed-off expression on her face, clearly not very happy about coming out on a Sunday. “You know, you don’t need a warrant to inventory a stolen vehicle,” she said.
    Andie immediately pegged her as one of those prosecutors who would talk out of the other side of her mouth and blame the cop just as soon as a key piece of evidence was excluded at trial for failure to get a warrant. “Belt and suspenders,” said Andie. “That’s me.”
    They walked toward the back of the truck where one of the MDPD officers was standing. Watts told him to open it. The rollup door wasn’t locked, and one good shove was enough. The box was empty.
    Andie shone her flashlight inside, which crisscrossed with the more powerful beam from the officer’s heavy-duty flashlight. The chains and timbers used to secure the truck were readily visible, as were tire tracks on the bed of the truck.
    â€œI’ll be damned,” said Littleford.
    â€œWe’ll want to get a comparison to the tracks at the airport warehouse,” said Andie.
    Watts was about to climb inside, but Littleford stopped him. “Keep it clean for forensics,” he said.
    Andie aimed her flashlight toward the forward end of the box, where four lengths of steel chain lay in separate piles. “Could that be dried blood on that chain?”
    â€œHard to tell,” said Littleford.
    Andie’s flashlight picked up a string of brown dots across the metal bed of the box. “Definitely could be blood,” she said as her beam came to rest on something in the far corner.
    â€œWhat’s that?” asked Littleford.
    â€œCandy bar, maybe. We could get lucky and find saliva.”
    She wanted to climb inside and look, but she knew better than to contaminate the crime scene, especially if blood was involved. The MDPD officer brought binoculars from his squad car. Andie focused on the object in the corner. The zoom was powerful enough for her to see ants at work.
    â€œIt’s not a candy bar,” she said as she lowered the binoculars. “That’s a human finger.”
    Littleford borrowed the binoculars. “Whipped him bloody with chains and cut off his finger. If he’s alive, he’s in bad shape. If he’s dead, he didn’t die a pleasant death.”
    â€œCheck that out,” said Watts, pointing toward another section of the floor.
    Andie aimed her flashlight at the black smudges. “Looks like burn marks,” said Andie.
    â€œI’m leaning toward unpleasant death,” said Watts.
    â€œMost unpleasant,” said Andie.
    â€œI’ll put MDPD homicide on alert.”
    He started toward his squad car. Andie and Littleford stayed behind the open delivery truck.
    â€œWhat do you think?” asked Andie.
    â€œI predicted it in the warehouse when I saw that bag on the floor. I think it’s the guy who dropped two million dollars on his way to the truck.”
    â€œForensics will be interesting. I can stay and wait for them. No need for you to hang around all Sunday afternoon.”
    â€œThanks. Call me when you know anything.” He started toward his car, then stopped. “Hey, Henning.”
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œHow do you like the bank robbery unit so far?”
    Andie was still learning his sense of humor, and she was not yet sure that he could handle hers. She resisted the urge to fire back a smartass response.
    â€œI’ll get back to you on that, Chief.”

Chapter 10
    R uban woke up feeling lousy, and it wasn’t just the rum-soaked night at Club Media Noche. Savannah held him to his promise. Her joke on the dance floor about getting “down and dirty” and digging up some money had been just