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The Investigator (Letty Davenport, #1)(80)

Author:John Sandford

“I’ve got a photograph, though she’s wearing a mask,” Letty said. “I’ll take a picture with my cell phone and text it to you.”

“Terrific. Where’d you get it?”

“At that shack where I got shot at,” Letty said.

Pregnant silence. “You know, without a search warrant . . .”

“The door was open when I got to it,” Letty not quite lied. She didn’t mention that it had been opened by Kaiser. “We knew a crime was in progress, perpetrated by the residents of the place. Besides, I don’t need a warrant. I’m not a law enforcement officer. What about Duran?”

“I’m not sure I agree on your status there,” Greet said. “But . . . Duran. We know he was there at the same time as Low. The prison rumor is that Duran was basically an armed robber up and down the mountain west, specializing in suburban banks. Nothing on his politics, if he has any. After Duran got out of Preston Smith—Low was already out—two unknown men robbed a bank in Lawton, Oklahoma, and got away with $39,000. In terms of body build and height, could have been Low and Duran. Ski masks over sunglasses, rubber gloves. They used a stolen car that was later found burning in a field outside Lawton. Very nicely done. Efficient. No DNA or prints. Nobody hurt, clean getaway.”

“So if that was them, they might not be total dumbasses,” Letty said.

“Not dumb, but probably crazy. I personally prefer dumb.”

“How about arrest warrants?”

“There’s a warrant out for Low, for the parole violation. You knew that. Nothing current for Duran or Crain. You’ve got those mugshots of Sawyer and Crain. I’ll send one of Duran.”

“Thanks. They’re the ones stealing the oil. Duran and Crain. Kaiser and I more or less witnessed it, though we couldn’t swear that they actually took any oil. We could probably set it up so the FBI could bag them.”

“You don’t think you scared them off last night?”

“I doubt it,” Letty said. “I doubt they can even be sure that there was somebody out there. They didn’t actually see me. They never saw us any other place, where they were stealing the oil or unloading it.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to the boss, and if he approves, I’ll go to our FBI liaison,” Greet said. “Tell them that we don’t want to talk to local law yet. See what they say.”

“Call me,” Letty said. “We’re going to check Terry Duran’s address. Maybe we’ll spot Crain there.”

“Careful.”

* * *

When she was ready to go, Letty called Kaiser and suggested that they hit the McDonald’s for breakfast. “Bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit, mmm-mmm.”

“My heart’s already clogging up, hearing that,” Kaiser said. “But I guess this job comes with sacrifices.”

“I’m going to call Vee Wright and Senator Colles and I want you to hear the calls,” Letty said. “We can do that from the car.”

“Am I being informed, or implicated?” Kaiser asked.

“Take your pick, John.”

* * *

In the car, Letty called Vee Wright, who was awake in his Phoenix hospital room. He was, he said, in moderate pain. “They got me out of bed and walking around. Couple of pills and I should be good to go.”

“That’s great. Listen, we might have found your oil thieves . . . I’m going to text you a photograph of some pipes, right . . . now.” She pushed a button on her cell phone.

She told Wright about tracking the tanker truck and about the scene at what she thought was a pipeline, about the men loading what looked like a scuba-diving tank into the truck.

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