Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #2: Books 5-8 (A Dead Cold Box Set) Blake Banner (read out loud books txt) 📖

She snorted and we moved in among the trees. “A ton of weed. I’d hate to think what would happen to Happy Valley if that barn caught fire.”

“You’re a bad woman, Dehan.”

A few minutes later, we were lying among the ferns again. Ahead of us was a large, two-story, clapboard house, about fifty yards away. Out front there was a Buick, and beside it a Range Rover. Beyond it, we could see the road that led east to Gold Hill and west down to the Shack, but much closer, about fifteen or twenty yards away, up against the trees, there was a large barn with a heavy padlock on the door. And the smell emanating from it was unmistakable.

I smiled at her. “Bingo.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, bingo, but now what?”

“We wait till dark, then we go in and photograph the stuff.”

“And then?”

I lay with my chin on my arms, chewing my lip. And then? And then what? I looked at her and we stared at each other for a bit in silence. Eventually, she said, “We can’t stake them out and wait for a buyer to show up, to see where he’s from and where he goes. We haven’t got the time or the resources. And neither has the sheriff.”

“I know.”

“Even if Sly and Coy and Greg are in partnership to grow and sell weed, it’s still legal. We need that connection to Pat and Kathleen.”

“I know, I know…” I sighed. “Let’s see  what we discover inside. Maybe we’ll find something so we can force their hands somehow…”

And we lay there, eating sandwiches and watching the house and the barn as the sun slid down in the west.

Fifteen

Eventually, late afternoon, with its russet light and its elongated shadows, faded into a grainy dusk. The sun died on the western peaks and there spilled its blood over the Rocky Mountains. The light went out of the sky, and the vast translucent mantle was pierced, one by one, by icy stars. In the house, windows began to glow, while not so far off, the coyotes began to howl. And just above our heads, an owl told us that what we were about to do was a really bad idea.

But what would he know? He was just an owl.

I looked at Dehan. “Lets go.”

We crouch-ran the short distance to the barn. She touched my shoulder and pointed to the corner of the building. “I’ve got this. Keep watch.”

I raised an eyebrow at her, but for once in my life I did as I was told. It didn’t take long. Fifteen seconds later, the padlock was off and we were easing the rickety door open on its rollers. The smell was overpowering, like boiling cabbage on steroids. We slipped through the gap and pulled the door closed behind us. It was very dark. I felt Dehan’s breath on my ear.

“Did you see any windows?”

“No, but I couldn’t see the east wall.”

“You’ve got a flashlight on your key-ring.”

“I know. I put it there.”

“Use it!”

“Give me a chance, will you.”

I pulled it from my pocket and switched it on, shielding it with my hand and directing it down toward the floor. By its dim glow, we examined the wall on the right. It was enough to see that there were no windows, so I played the thin beam around the barn. There were long stretches of nylon cord suspended from wall to wall, at a height of about seven feet, some four or five feet apart. I didn’t count them, but there must have been eight or ten at least. I nudged Dehan and pointed at them.

“For drying. He must have another barn somewhere. That wouldn’t take five hundred plants.”

She nodded. “He must have harvested in mid-September. He’s already dried the plants and processed them. That’s fast work.”

“With a bit of luck, he has it stored here. Let’s have a look.”

The whole area was about thirty by sixty feet, with a high ceiling and a loft. From where I was standing, the loft seemed to be empty. We found the dope among the shadows at the back. Most of it was in big plastic drums, maybe thirty gallons in volume. But there was a large stack of smaller, five gallon tubs, weighing about eight or ten pounds. It was hard to tell. Then, over in the right-hand corner, we found a huge stash, eight feet high, of plastic packages sealed with packing tape. Each one about two pounds—a kilo.

There were rolls of tape and plastic bags in a carton near by.

I turned to Dehan. “I’m willing to bet that the labs researching the medical benefits of cannabis have slightly stricter shipping requirements.”

“You think?”

We took photographs and video footage, both of which would be inadmissible as evidence in a court of law, and in any case proved only that Greg was cultivating and storing cannabis, which in Colorado was perfectly lawful. It would, however, be something to show the captain, and possibly the sheriff.

“If we get a result from Kathleen’s credit card records, or her phone and email, this may give us enough to pull the three of them in for questioning, and Pat, too. Then we can try to prove a link.”

She sighed. “Yeah, Pat’s going to be key to this, if we’re right. She’s the bridge. But so far we haven’t got much, Sensei. Let’s go, this place gives me the creeps.”

We headed back toward the big doors, following the small, hazy circle from my flashlight. I was thinking of the long, difficult trek back through the woods to the Dodge, and wondering if, when we got to the Wagon Wheel, there would be any news from the 43rd. Despite Dehan’s downbeat