Creighton stared calmly down the gun barrel at the head of the cop standing beside Randi. The door was cracked open just enough for him to watch them, and to kill them if necessary. All he needed was a good reason to pull the trigger.
Both Randi and the cop were about sixty feet away, easily within range, and Creighton could hear them talking.
“I don’t know,” Randi said. “I think this looks familiar. But it’s hard to tell for sure. It was dark.”
“This is the sixth warehouse we’ve been to.” The cop sounded exasperated. “Look. I gotta go. They need us to sweep through this area for another case and I’m already late. I’ll drop you off at the station.”
“No, I think this might be the one. I’m pretty sure.”
“You think it might be; you’re pretty sure. That’s what you said about the last one. Look, there’s no car here. No phone. Go to the mall, buy yourself a new phone, and just be thankful nothing worse happened to you last night.”
Randi protested one more time, but the cop had already started walking back to his car. She took one final look around the parking lot and then followed him.
Well, it was probably better this way.
But not nearly as much fun.
Just before they climbed into the squad car, Creighton heard the cop say into his radio, “Yeah, this is Officer Brandeiss here.
There’s nothing at the old Lardner Manufacturing place. It checks out. We’re good to go.”
Creighton waited by the door until the two of them had driven away.
So, for whatever reason, the cops were looking into the warehouse district. A tip? Who knows. But now it didn’t matter. Officer Brandeiss had just reported the area clear.
Thanks, Randi, thought Creighton as he went back to see how high the water had risen in the tank. Now no one else will disturb Cassandra and me for the rest of the day.