Page 93 of Gem Warfare
“You would not catch me telling my wife she’s in satisfactory condition,” said Garrett. “That would result in my being inunsatisfactory condition.”
Solomon smiled. “Glad to see you’re both in fine health.”
“We should take that as a compliment,” I said to Garrett.
“Yeah,” said Garrett obligingly, “I don’t need to hear the kind of makeup talk he gives to my sister later.”
“I’ll text Traci and she can tell you,” I said, my mood lifting with the teasing.
“Please don’t.”
“Do you want me to send someone to retrieve your car?” Solomon called to Garrett.
Garrett opened the door, tossed the metal box inside, then locked the car. “Nope,” he said as he jogged up the bank. “I called it in and MPD are sending a pick-up for it. The car and the transmitter can stay here until they tow it.”
“Transmitter?” asked Solomon.
“I’ll fill you in on the way,” I said. “Shotgun.”
Behind me, Garrett tutted, then added, “We need to head back to the gas station at the next exit.”
“I have a full tank,” said Solomon.
“We need something else,” I said.
“I see the candy bar packet in your pocket.”
“We need to see some camera footage,” I said.
“Sounds like you have plenty to tell me,” said Solomon, sliding the sunglasses back over his eyes. “Let’s go.”
On the way to the gas station, Garrett and I filled in Solomon on the details that led to us coming off the road. By the time we pulled in, Solomon’s jaw was tense but he didn’t say much. I figured he was too busy thinking about all the ways he was going to hide Gideon Black’s body if it turned out he did tamper with our car, and all the ways he was going to do exactly the same to persons unknown if it were punks messing with us.
We trooped into the gas station and Garrett pressed his badge to the security screen. “Can I see your camera footage?” he asked.
“Why?” asked the cashier, barely looking up from the game he played on his phone.
Garrett pointed to his badge, and said, “There’s your reason.”
“Don’t you have to get a warrant or something?”
“Why don’t you call your boss and get them down here?!” shot back Garrett.
“Yo, Dave!” called the cashier without turning. A moment later, a man wearing pants two sizes too small and a shirt straining at the buttons stepped through the swinging door carrying a crate of packaged baked goods. “These detectives want to see the camera footage.”
“So why didn’t you show them?” asked Dave. “Never mind. Let me set this down and I’ll help you.” He set the crate on the ground and walked to the security door in the interior wall. He pulled it open and beckoned us through, asking to see Garrett’s credentials. “We haven’t called for any assistance so how can we help?”
“Just need to see the footage from the last hour,” said Garrett.
“Sure. There haven’t been a lot of customers. Is there anything going on in the area I should be aware of?” he asked, glancing in the direction of the prison.
“No, all’s good. We just need to check something, then we’ll be out of your hair.”
“I’ll queue the cameras,” he said, waving for us to follow him into the back room. “We’ve got one covering the forecourt and one covering the stands in front. There’re two inside, one covering the shop, and one covering the cash register.”
“Smart,” said Garrett.
“The system’s easy to run,” said Dave, pointing out the controls, but not taking a seat. “I figure I’ll leave you to it but I would appreciate a heads-up if I need to take extra care for any reason. I’d like to make sure my employees are looked out for, even that one,” he added, thumbing towards the cashier on the other side of the wall. He stepped back, indicating Garrett could take the chair pushed up against the desk.