Page 50 of Flint's Battle

“I always knew Simmons was an ass.” She cradled her arm, despite the sling still holding it immobile. “So, what’s stopping them from using the factory again? There are so many false calls to that place, most of the patrols just ignore them. And who would think they’d be ballsy enough to go back when they’d just been busted? It’s kind of poetic, really.”

Carter cursed. “Shit. Do you guys think that’s the factory in question?”

“I already cleared the whole building.” Bowie crossed his arms. “Not a bell, whistle or horn in sight. And no record of there ever being any, either.”

“Since when has there been any talk about a factory?” Milligan stared at Bowie. “And did you just admit you disturbed an active crime scene?”

“I was careful.” Bowie glanced at Flint. “And it was something our Peter Pan guy said before he died. About this gang ringing a factory bell for months.”

“That asshole talked to you? Before he nose-dived off the roof? And you didn’t say anything?”

“We were looking into it. And we would have informed you if anything had panned out.” Flint shrugged. “But it was obvious you had a leak, and we weren’t willing to risk it.”

“Is that your way of saying you thought I was dirty, O’Connell?”

“We considered it.” Quinn shuffled closer. “But Flint insisted you could be trusted. Jury’s still out for me, though. Now back to the factory… any chance he was talking about another place?”

“No.” Emery shook her head. “It’s definitely the Wilson factory.”

Bowie pursed his lips before giving her a small smile. “I triple checked about that bell. And I don’t think our guy was lying or paraphrasing.”

“He wasn’t referencing the actual factory. He meant the bar several miles down the road. All the workers used to go there after shift, and they rang a damn bell whenever a couple of them got into a fight and the loser had to buy a round for the house. My dad said he was called out there at least three times a week to patch guys up but almost always on Monday and Friday nights. And Flint and I busted in on their party last Friday, so…”

“So, tonight’s Monday.” Porter tapped his chin. “If this place is so perfect, why hasn’t it popped up on my radar. I’ve beenkeeping tabs and there hasn’t been so much as a vagrancy ticket issued to this address.”

“That’s because it’s like the place that cried wolf too many times. Waylen… do me a favor and get into the station’s dispatch logs and cross check the days of all the calls Mr. Snider made over the last few months.”

“Get into…” Milligan moved over to stand behind Waylen. “You aren’t seriously going to hack my precinct, are you?”

Waylen chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m one of the good guys.”

Milligan cursed under his breath. “Porter, remind me to up my station’s cyber security.”

Waylen waved the man off. “No need. It’s pretty decent.”

“And yet, you’re cruising through those logs as we speak.”

Waylen shrugged. “All right. For the past six months, Mr. Snider called intermittently on the weekends. Mostly Saturday nights.”

“Those would be your ghost hunters and frat kids.” Emery nodded at the computer. “What about more recently?”

“Looks like he started reporting lights flashing in the upper floor windows starting about three months ago. They’ve ramped up since then and are primarily on Monday and Friday nights. And those Saturday calls stopped completely three weeks ago.”

“I’m sure they’ve found a way to deter those weekend warriors. Or hire them.”

Milligan straightened, looking less than pleased. “It’s not like none of those calls weren’t investigated.”

“True.” Emery shuffled a bit as if trying to get more comfortable. “But most patrol officers just do a drive-by. Maybe amble around that first floor.”

“Are you suggesting my men have gotten lax, detective?”

“I’m suggesting we’re understaffed and overworked. Patrol often has three more calls waiting in the queue. It’s reality, sir.”

Porter held up his hand. “Hard proof or not, it’s the most promising lead we’ve had. What were you thinking? Stakeout?”

“I’m thinking you assemble a small team of highly trained…” Emery looked up at Flint and winked. “And decorated individuals paired with a few guys from tactical you swear can’t be bought, and we go to Mr. Snider’s house and wait. I’m fairly certain he’ll let me and some friends through the door. And he seemed quite impressed with Flint.”

“No way.” Milligan stepped forward before Flint had a chance to voice his concerns. “You’re in no condition to be a part of this.”

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