be introduced also. Gage’s eyes were wide, and Kyle had no doubt it was a lot to take in. For the next hour, a table full of food was brought over and everyone ate their fill. Amber’s expression was wary, but Gage appeared to be completely at ease.
It did not take long for a football game to start in the backyard, and it felt like old times. Brody was keeping one eye on Gage while watching Amber sit with his mom. Kyle hoped that conversation was going well but, since no fireworks had gone off, he assumed it was.
His phone rang and he glanced down. Alex. He jogged over to the side of the yard to take the call. Officers had broken up a teenage party and found prescription drugs at the scene. Quickly saying his goodbyes, his mom walked him to the front door.
She reached up and patted his cheek. “You’re not working too hard are you, Son?”
“No harder than anybody else. Stop worrying.”
“I’m a mom. It’s my job to worry.”
Chuckling, he pulled her in for a hug. He was almost out the door before she added, “I’m hoping you’ll bring somebody home soon.”
Looking over his shoulder, he rolled his eyes. “Mom, just because Brody got together with Amber doesn’t mean I’m next.”
“Well, Marguerite at church told me that she’s got a lovely niece. I think she’s a choir teacher.”
Exaggerating his horror, he threw his hands up into the air. “Good God, Mom! I don’t think that would be a good match!”
“Oh, you!”
Kissing her cheek again, he said, “Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll find somebody when I least expect it.” With a wave, he headed down the front walk to his truck.
Driving home, the memory of Kimberly filled his mind. Yeah, I did meet somebody when I least expected it. And I fuckin’ let her slip away!
9
Kyle and Alex were escorted past security and into the warehouse of Kilton Pharmaceuticals. Stepping into the cavernous building, Kyle’s brows lifted as they silently followed their escort. The warehouse was as large as any found near the Hope City docks. He was struck with the cleanliness of the entire building. The concrete floors and massive metal shelving units that filled the space, rising forty feet toward the ceiling, appeared like new. Men and women walked around, the sound of talking mixed with the beeping of the forklift alarms.
Kyle and Alex continued to follow their escort through the massive rows of shelves stacked with plastic-wrapped cardboard boxes. Passing through a doorway near the back, they came to a brightly-lit, tiled hallway with offices on either side. Their escort knocked on the door and said, “Mr. Myles, the police are here.”
With a chin lift offered to their escort, he and Alex stepped into the office. A glance gave evidence that it was not small, but very utilitarian. Tile floor. Metal bookshelves and desk. No window. The man standing behind the desk was not wearing a tie but had a suit jacket on a hook with a tie draped over the coat hanger. It was hard to determine his age—his hair was already streaked with grey, but his face was not creased with lines.
Kyle showed his identification. “Detective Kyle McBride and my partner, Detective Alex Freeman. We’re assisting the Robbery Division detectives and have a few questions.”
“Welcome to Kilton Pharmaceuticals, detectives. I’m Porter Myles, the supervisor of our Materials Management and Warehouse. Please, sit down.”
Not wasting time, Kyle launched into his questions. “Our concern is the whereabouts of the stolen contents of the van. We’ve interviewed the two drivers of the van involved in the theft on Friday afternoon. The lab has gone over the van, but there are no fingerprints other than the two drivers. Do your loaders wear gloves?”
“Yes. Obviously, the pharmaceuticals are packed in boxes, categorized and labeled, but we want to maintain the integrity of the product and anyone handling the boxes wear gloves.” Porter lowered his brows and said, “I’m assuming that would indicate the thieves wore gloves as well?”
“That’s what was reported by Charlie and Joe. I’d like to get a little information about those two. How long have they been working here? How long have they been working together? How long have they been on that particular route? And then we need to know the specifics of your routing system, including who knows the routes.”
Nodding, Porter turned to his laptop and, with a few taps, began calling out, “Charlie Fisher. Forty-seven years old. He’s been employed with us