said as she approached with long, easy strides. “Did either of you see a license plate? Or anything to help identify the type of vehicle?” Her blue eyes were sharp and demanding in the glow from the headlights.
“Uh,” Baxter said. “It was dark and pretty big…not an SUV but larger than a compact. I didn’t see anything on the license plate except that it was a dark color and the numbers were light or white.”
“Yeah, it looked blue or black to me,” said Jake. “Probably a sedan of some sort.”
Helga slapped her hands on her hips and heaved an exasperated sigh. “That’s all you got? You were facing it as it drove into the lot, guys. You didn’t see anything else that might help? The shape of the driver, maybe—general height or anything?”
Jake closed his eyes, trying to call up the image in his memory. “No, I didn’t really see anyone inside the car—well, just the head of one person. So they were alone. And the headlights weren’t on. Obviously they were trying not to be noticed—so that’s probably an indication they were up to no good.”
Helga muttered something that sounded like duh.
“Okay, wait,” said Baxter suddenly. “The brake lights—I saw them come on as the car turned around before it sped away. They were an unusual shape… Let me think about it. I might be able to draw a picture.”
“That would be good,” Helga said in a slightly less aggrieved tone. “That might keep you out of jail tonight, anyway.”
“Jail?” For the first time, Jake thought she might be serious. “Tonight?”
She lifted an eyebrow at him. “Yes. Jail.”
“What for, officer?” Baxter said innocently. “We didn’t do anything wrong. We were just sitting there in the car.”
She looked at him and shook her head. “I suppose you’ve disposed of it. I can’t believe you’d destroy a whole case of B-Cubed, so where’d you put it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Officer van Hest,” Baxter replied. “Go ahead and look around—Jake won’t mind if you search his vehicle, will you, Jake?”
“Just draw the damned lights for me,” she retorted. “I’m going to take a look around.”
She pulled the long, powerful flashlight from its mooring at her belt and turned it on. Damn, it was so bright that Jake’s eyes burned.
He wasn’t sure whether he should go with her or not, but figured she had her dog, the flashlight, and she was a trained cop—plus they’d already run off the intruder—so she was probably just fine on her own.
Instead, he stood there exactly where he’d been when the dark vehicle pulled into the lot and tried to remember the details. There was no question that whoever had arrived and then so speedily departed had been up to no good, and the probability was very high that the driver was the perpetrator of the nasty things that had been happening to Vivien.
He was certain there’d been only one figure in the car, for there was an instant when the moonlight threw illumination into the vehicle, front to back, and he remembered seeing only one head. So whoever it was had been working alone—at least tonight they were.
He hadn’t seen the strange, distinct brake lights, and he hoped whatever Baxter sketched out was helpful—and accurate.
“Didn’t find anything of interest back there.” Helga’s smug voice caught his attention, and Jake turned to see her carrying the case of B-Cubed he’d stashed behind the Dumpster.
“Told ya,” Baxter muttered.
She sauntered up with the case tucked under her arm, and without even asking, she went around the back of Jake’s Lexus and opened the hatch.
“Come on, Butch,” she said, inviting the dog to leap into the back of Jake’s car as she perched on the tailgate. “Take a load off, big guy.”
A moment later, Jake heard the distinct thook of a cap being popped off a longneck, followed by a feminine sigh of pleasure.
He looked at Baxter, who just shrugged and wandered around the back. “Why, officer, I’m shocked to find you drinking while on duty,” Baxter said.
Helga lifted her chin and took a good, long drag from the bottle. When she put it back down, she took her time swallowing then said, “I’ve been off-duty for almost an hour now.”
“I had a feeling,” Baxter replied. But when he reached for one of the beers in the case, Helga smacked his hand back.
“Excuse me, sir—this is official contraband.”
“Contraband? You didn’t confiscate that—”
“No, but I found it. Last I heard, possession is nine-tenths of the law…which also