Page 29 of Haystacks and Hoaxes

Pete Plowman looked appropriately impressed as he shook Hawk’s hand. “Appreciate you guys for coming. I’ve been at my wits’ end, trying to replace all the equipment that keeps disappearing. Losing those last two pumpjacks really set us back.”

Rock frowned. “I take it you’ve been experiencing an uptick in thefts?”

Mr. Plowman nodded bleakly. “If they continue at this rate, it could put us out of business.”

It was a surprising claim for the owner of such a profitable company to make. Mr. Plowman added defensively, “If you don’t believe me, I can show you the numbers.”

“I believe you, sir.” The fella had nothing to gain by misrepresenting his bottom line. “Have you reported the missing pumpjacks to the police?” Gage had said that Mr. Plowman wanted to keep the police out of it, but Rock preferred to hear it from the horse’s mouth.

“I want to, but I can’t afford to.” Mr. Plowman shot a harried look toward the headquarters building. “Walk with me, and I’ll explain.”

He led them across the gravel parking lot toward the olive green storage tanks. “Our profit margin has shrunk for three quarters straight. For the first time since I started this company, folks are worried about their jobs.”

“I’m sorry to hear it, sir.” It still didn’t explain why hewas so dead set on keeping the police out of the investigation.

“Sir, you said you recently had two more pumpjacks stolen,” Mila noted in a quiet voice. “How many missing pumpjacks does this bring you up to?”

“Four.” Despair rang in the man’s voice. “We made the mistake of getting the police involved when the first one disappeared, and it cost us a major investor. Said they’d rather put their money with a firm that had better accountability of their inventory. The insurance claim backfired on us, too. Our insurance carrier hiked our premiums so much that we had to drop them and go with a different carrier altogether.”

“A double whammy.” Mila sounded sympathetic.

“Straight to the chest,” Mr. Plowman agreed. “When the second pumpjack disappeared, we decided to write it off as part of the cost of doing business. As much as it hurt, it was cheaper than more bad press and another insurance hike.”

“And now two more pumpjacks have gone MIA,” Rock mused soberly. “Did they go missing at the same time?”

“As far as I can tell.” Mr. Plowman led them past the storage tanks down a narrow gravel road. It took a few minutes of walking to reach the site where one of the stolen pumpjacks had been located. One of the panels of its brightly painted yellow cage was lying in the gravel. The rest of it was still standing.

Mr. Plowman moved around the yellow cage and faced them. He motioned toward the headquarters building with both hands. “Our security cameras didn’t pick up anything since the storage tanks are blocking this spot. Same thing with the other one that went missing.”

It sounded premeditated to Rock. He whistled beneathhis breath. Someone must have cased the pumpjack locations in advance.

“I’m trying to wrap my brain around the logistics of stealing one of these.” From Mila’s puzzled look, he could tell she was thinking the same thing. “It’s not like you can pick up one of these monsters, tuck it under your arm, and take off running with it.” He walked around the crime scene with his cell phone, snapping photographs.

“No kidding.” Mila flipped open her sketchpad. Her pen flew over the page as she sketched the carnage in front of her. Hawk anchored himself by her side, constantly sweeping the perimeter with his dark, all-seeing gaze.

“You ain’t a-kidding. It takes planning, equipment, and know-how to pull off a robbery of this magnitude.” Mr. Plowman gestured bleakly at the empty pumpjack site. “A lot of folks are blaming it on the rise in illegal border crossings and cartel activity, but it’s anyone’s guess who’s really behind it. That’s where you guys come in. The next time I go to the police, I need them to be in a position to make an arrest and wrap up the investigation quickly.”

To avoid losing more investors.Rock understood his reasoning. In the meantime, he was glad the man was willing to put his trust in Lonestar Security. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this, sir.” He wasn’t making idle promises. Not only would the Lonestar investigators chase down every clue, Rock was a firm believer that justice would prevail in the end.

He finished his snapshots and flipped open his sketchpad. Moving to the opposite side of the pumpjack site from where Mila was standing, he drew it from a different angle. From the corner of his eye, he watched Mr. Plowman edge in her direction.

As soon as the old timer took a peek at her work, Rockhad the pleasure of watching his bearded jaw drop in surprise.

She glanced up and caught Rock’s eye, pointing at the side of the cage that was lying in the dirt. “The thieves used a winch with a hook. You can see the transfer of red paint from the hook inside those scratches on the fence wall. I’m also guessing they had a pair of street sweepers mounted to the back of the truck they used to haul away the pumpjacks. You can see the circular motion left by them in the dirt where the tire tracks would’ve been.” She squatted down to peer at the ground. “Here.” She flipped to a blank page and swiftly drew what she was looking at. “And here.” She flipped to another blank page and drew the next aberration in the dirt.

“You’re really good at this.” Mr. Plowman’s breath left a mist of whiteness hanging in the cool mid-morning air as he bent over her to see what she was pointing at. “I’ll admit when Decker first mentioned sending out a team of forensic artists, I thought it sounded like a bunch of hooey. I stand corrected, and I’ll tell him so myself.” A seed of hope wafted across his wind-chapped features.

It was as good as an apology for how he’d treated Mila during their initial introduction. Rock joined their huddle to sketch the crime scene from yet another angle while she finished capturing the markings in the dirt.

“We’re gonna need a description of the missing pumpjacks.” He drew the mangled side of the yellow metal cage. “Purchase receipts, model numbers, dimensions, and anything else you can think of that might be helpful in locating your missing equipment.”

“Sure thing.” Mr. Plowman scowled thoughtfully. “I can tell you this right off the bat. All four of them were among the smallest ones on the market. Some ofthe first ones I ever bought. They’d fit in the bed of a regular size pickup truck.”

“Good to know.” That would certainly explain the lack of deeper ruts in the ground. It might also explain how the truck or trucks had gotten on and off his property without attracting undo notice. “Would you mind describing the kinds of trucks you normally have coming and going around here?”

“Mostly oil tankers.” The man shrugged wearily. “Plus a half dozen or so employees drive company-issued pickups and flatbeds. All white with painted door logos. All commercial models.”

“If you haven’t already provided it, may we get a copy of your security footage for the time window surrounding the thefts?” Rock couldn’t recall being briefed on the security footage.

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