Read Online Cavanaugh on Duty by Marie Ferrarella - Free Book Online
Authors: Marie Ferrarella
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opened the tool as far as it would go, securely fitted the cutting edge around the lock and, with one quick, reverberating snap of his forearms, cut the lock clean off.
Useless, the heavy metal object fell to the floor with a solid thud.
Stepping back from the defunct lock, Esteban handed the bolt cutters back to Jennings with one hand while raising up the dull red corrugated door with the other.
The putrid smell of something rotting had been strong before. Without the door in the way to mute it somewhat, it assaulted them with a one-two punch that was almost unbearable.
Kari could feel her eyes begin to sting and threaten to water. The sooner they got this over with, the better, she silently told herself.
But before she could make a move to try to hone in on the origin of the smell, Esteban strode into the small, cluttered rectangular unit ahead of her.
He used the daylight that was streaming in behind him as illumination to help him carefully look around.
Rather than say anything or make a guess at the source of the awful odor, Kari watched as Esteban made his way to the back, moving through the piles of cartons and boxes that stood between him and the far wall.
Reaching the back, he started to push aside the obstacles he encountered, working his way down to the bottom of an exceptionally large pile comprised of half a dozen different things that were indiscriminately tossed on top of one another. At the end of his search, Esteban found himself looking at what appeared to be a rolled-up Persian rug.
Appearing unfazed by the pungent odor, he looked over his shoulder at Kari.
“There’s your smell,” he concluded with finality, not even bothering to first investigate whether or not the rug actually contained anything.
He didn’t have to.
He knew that smell, had come in contact with it more than once. Members of the cartel didn’t consider an argument actually won until the opposing side was tucked away in a fashion closely resembling this one. The rugs they used weren’t Persian, but the concept and execution were the same.
Not to be left out, Kari took it from there. She squatted down beside one end and, drawing in a deep breath that she fully intended to hold on to as long as humanly possible, she started to push aside as many layers of the rug as she feasibly could.
The unit was far too crowded for her to attempt to unfurl the rug—even if she could, which, at this point, she really couldn’t. There were protocols to follow.
The rug was fairly stiff and it offered a lot of resistance, but she refused to be defeated and kept at it.
Standing back, Esteban watched her for a few moments, amused by her efforts as well as somewhat impressed by them. He let her continue for a little while, then put his hand over hers, a silent indication for her to stop.
“What are you doing?” she asked in confusion.
“Keeping you from wearing yourself out.” With the ease of someone who was accustomed to strong resistance, he completed the job that would have taken her three times as long to finish—if at all. He pushed aside enough of the rug to expose what was housed inside. They were both looking down at an older, gray-haired man, who from all indications, had to have been dead for at least several days. Possibly even a week.
Eager to see just how ghoulish this sight actually was, the storage-facility manager pushed his way forward to get a better look at who—or what—was wrapped up in the rug.
When he saw who it was, his eagerness instantly faded. “Oh, hell,” he moaned. “I know him.”
Kari looked at Jennings, her interest piqued. “Who is he?” she wanted to know.
He frowned, but this time the frown was because of the situation, not because of her or her partner. “Don’t remember his name offhand, but that’s the guy who rents the unit.”
It was Kari’s turn to frown. “Congratulations, Fernandez.”
“For what?” he wanted to know.
“On the job less than two hours and you’ve
Useless, the heavy metal object fell to the floor with a solid thud.
Stepping back from the defunct lock, Esteban handed the bolt cutters back to Jennings with one hand while raising up the dull red corrugated door with the other.
The putrid smell of something rotting had been strong before. Without the door in the way to mute it somewhat, it assaulted them with a one-two punch that was almost unbearable.
Kari could feel her eyes begin to sting and threaten to water. The sooner they got this over with, the better, she silently told herself.
But before she could make a move to try to hone in on the origin of the smell, Esteban strode into the small, cluttered rectangular unit ahead of her.
He used the daylight that was streaming in behind him as illumination to help him carefully look around.
Rather than say anything or make a guess at the source of the awful odor, Kari watched as Esteban made his way to the back, moving through the piles of cartons and boxes that stood between him and the far wall.
Reaching the back, he started to push aside the obstacles he encountered, working his way down to the bottom of an exceptionally large pile comprised of half a dozen different things that were indiscriminately tossed on top of one another. At the end of his search, Esteban found himself looking at what appeared to be a rolled-up Persian rug.
Appearing unfazed by the pungent odor, he looked over his shoulder at Kari.
“There’s your smell,” he concluded with finality, not even bothering to first investigate whether or not the rug actually contained anything.
He didn’t have to.
He knew that smell, had come in contact with it more than once. Members of the cartel didn’t consider an argument actually won until the opposing side was tucked away in a fashion closely resembling this one. The rugs they used weren’t Persian, but the concept and execution were the same.
Not to be left out, Kari took it from there. She squatted down beside one end and, drawing in a deep breath that she fully intended to hold on to as long as humanly possible, she started to push aside as many layers of the rug as she feasibly could.
The unit was far too crowded for her to attempt to unfurl the rug—even if she could, which, at this point, she really couldn’t. There were protocols to follow.
The rug was fairly stiff and it offered a lot of resistance, but she refused to be defeated and kept at it.
Standing back, Esteban watched her for a few moments, amused by her efforts as well as somewhat impressed by them. He let her continue for a little while, then put his hand over hers, a silent indication for her to stop.
“What are you doing?” she asked in confusion.
“Keeping you from wearing yourself out.” With the ease of someone who was accustomed to strong resistance, he completed the job that would have taken her three times as long to finish—if at all. He pushed aside enough of the rug to expose what was housed inside. They were both looking down at an older, gray-haired man, who from all indications, had to have been dead for at least several days. Possibly even a week.
Eager to see just how ghoulish this sight actually was, the storage-facility manager pushed his way forward to get a better look at who—or what—was wrapped up in the rug.
When he saw who it was, his eagerness instantly faded. “Oh, hell,” he moaned. “I know him.”
Kari looked at Jennings, her interest piqued. “Who is he?” she wanted to know.
He frowned, but this time the frown was because of the situation, not because of her or her partner. “Don’t remember his name offhand, but that’s the guy who rents the unit.”
It was Kari’s turn to frown. “Congratulations, Fernandez.”
“For what?” he wanted to know.
“On the job less than two hours and you’ve
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