Chapter~16~Back to the grind.

Harley~

Lyles gave him the side-eye before answering. "Mr. Sykes, if you were well-versed in psychological profiling, you would know Cervantes doesn't match the first victim's profile. Aside from their age gap and criminal records, given Cervantes' ethnicity, if he were running drugs, it would be for the Mexican cartel. And Cervantes would have their initiation tattoo, which he doesn't."

"We will still share any pertinent evidence we uncover with the agency." My Captain jumps in to make the save and looks at me in a way I know it isn't a choice. "And I assume this will be a two-way street."

"Of course, Captain," Nelson says. "You will have our full cooperation."

At least Nelson recognized when their welcome had expired. He stood, offered his hand to Howard, and the Agents left, shifting the focus back onto me.

"How did you find Cervantes?" Howard asked me.

"Belinda traced the glove we found at the scene to Hempfort Corp. Cervantes was a delivery driver for them until a week ago. The manager, Mr. Pilot, says they never recovered the delivery van he was driving nor the supplies that were to be delivered."

Doctor Lyles flipped to the inventory sheet. "There are thousands of dollars worth of supplies here." She said with wide eyes.

"5,000 to be exact. Mr. Piolt says he reported the van stolen. I was on my way to impound when the Captain called."

Lyles and I looked to Mitch, who scrubbed his hand over his face. "Searching the impound lots can wait. First, we need to return to the docks; someone might remember the abandoned supply truck."

We all three exited the stuffy conference room together. Lyles heads to the coroner's office, while the Captain gathers the troops. We exited the station with detectives Brock and Grave in tow and pulled out. It's a quick, silent trip to the dock access. Captain Parks, and we all pile out, heading towards Parker's Pier, where they discovered Cervantes' body.

"Graves, you go with Gibson. Brock, you're with me."

Sunny LA promises another beautiful day. The beach is already beginning to fill with blankets, lounge chairs, coolers, and sunseekers as Sheila and I head off toward the businesses on the boardwalk. The little ones playing in the surf bring a smile to my face, and I can't wait to have one of my own.

"How is it going with you and Ben?" Sheila asked me. "It looked...... intense at McGilley's." Ben was the one subject I was hoping to avoid with her.

Without making eye contact with her, I shrugged my shoulders. "It's just not going to happen between us."

I'm hoping she will let it go at that, but something tells me she isn't. We walk into the first shop, which smells of the most wonderful cannabis, and approach the counter. The guy behind the counter is as high as a giraffe's pussy, and it isn't a weed high. His eyes are as big as Grandma's saucers. Rae growls at him, and I shake my head; the things humans put inside their bodies are unreal.

I carried on flashing my badge and showing him the photo of Cervantes. "Have you seen this man?"

Stoner Bob looks at the photo and then up at me with a crooked, yellow-toothed grin. The answer is no, and my eyes rolled as he tried again to focus on the photo. Rae pushed forward, and I planted my hands on either side of him on the countertop so only he could see her in my eyes.

"Do yourself a favor and lay off the Tango and Cash.

Shelia and I exited and walked on. "What is wrong with him?"

"Probably fentanyl, or meth, who knows with the wide variety of drugs LA offers?"

We get to the next shop, and I undergo the same process. At least this guy is coherent enough to dig what I am shoveling. I hand him the photo.

"Have you seen this man?"

It took only a moment. "Yeah," he hands it back to me. "About a week ago."

I stare a hole through him, waiting for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. "Where is the man?!"

He rolled his beady little eyes at me! "Here, he said his cell was dead, and his van broke down, so I let him use the phone, and he left."

My wolfie senses tingled. "I will need your phone records for the past week. Did you see the van he was driving or where he went after leaving your shop?"

He shook his head. "No, I never saw him again. The van had the Hempfort logo on the side. That big ass H, it sat out there," he gestures to the street, "for a couple of days before the city picked it up. It was practically a shell by the time they did."

I hand him my card. "Call me if you see anything that could have come off that van."

"I already have a vagrant named Peter Piper selling syringes, the good ones, no doubt they came off the van."

"Any gloves?"

"Not that I've seen you come back in the morning, pervert Pete will be on the corner; he would know."

We work our way down the rest of the boardwalk with no further success, so after the last bodega, we head back to meet with the Captain and Detective Brock. I take out my phone to call Dr. Lyles to inquire if there were any syringes on the van when Belinda beats me to the punch.

"What's up, Doc?" My attempt at humor meant nothing to her.

"We have a problem, Detective. Someone came into MY lab and took the glove. I've got his ass on camera, but I have never seen him before, yet he knew where to look."

"Your lab is ID and password protected." I didn't like this direction.

"The badge he used isn't in our system. It would seem we have a mole infestation, and it gets worse if he can enter any restricted area, if he can get in here."

My radio sounds on with the Captain's voice. "Find anything, Detective?"

"Maybe, something, we are coming back to you." I know he is wondering what's up with my cryptic, but he will soon find out.