Recovery
Chapter 28
The Journal of John Nolan
Del Monte is still missing. As far as I can tell, the general opinion of the L.A.P.D. is that he's dead. And to more than a few cops, it's good riddance. However, he's now a missing person with an open file. So until either he or his body shows up, he's a current case.
Regardless of whether Del Monte is dead or not, security is still clamped down tight. La Fiera wouldn't have terminated a source without having at least one more in the wings. And it's likely there's more than one.
From the little that Harper shares about her sisterhood of undercover cops, the idea that La Fiera is still plugged in makes everyone nervous. Lucy would like to go back under again, but since she's burned to La Fiera and her people, there's not much she can do.
James and Silas are still keeping their eyes open. But as yet, they don't have any hard evidence of drug production or distribution. Perhaps la Fiera is starting a new enterprise. If she is, I can't figure out what it is. Neither can Harper. Sooner or later, she'll have to reveal her plans. But just waiting for a sign is putting everyone on the lookout around the center on edge.
At least Henry and Abigail can breathe a little more freely. I checked over their prospective apartment. The building is old but well constructed. It's withstood multiple earthquakes without much damage I can spot. I did find an insect problem. The roaches were hiding in the walls and probably would have emerged in the wee hours of the morning to hunt or do whatever it is roaches do. But I put the bug guy that Ben uses on the infestation. He takes care of Ben's main house and the guest house and gets good results. Then, after the kids signed the lease, I fixed a couple of loose kitchen cabinet doors too.
Abigail made me dinner as a thank you. I don't think she won Henry's heart with her skills in the kitchen. But one thing Sarah did right before we sent him off to college was make sure Henry could cook well enough to avoid starvation. I helped out with that a little on our camping trips. Except in my nightmares about rushing Henry to the hospital, I think the kids will be all right.
It was hard for both of us to believe, but Bailey and I finally had a normal date. Well – almost normal. We had to start late because we were both delayed getting off shift. I had a stack of reports to finish, and she got a last-minute call. But we finally got together. Our original plan had been for dinner and a movie. Instead, we decided to turn it around, grab a quick snack before the film and have a late supper afterward.
Neither of us was in the mood for an action flick. That went double for me in terms of anything involving a high-speed chase. I know how difficult and dangerous those are in real life and don't need to get my thrills from the screen. Bailey felt the same about medical or fire emergencies. That didn't leave much to see these days, but we found an art film produced by newly graduated students at the U.S.C. film school. It was at an improvised open-air theater that's only operational for a few showings a month. The rest of the time, it's a farmer's market/flea market.
The great part about the venue was that the fresh produce was used to set up a refreshment stand like a pop-up restaurant. Bailey and I changed our plans again and settled on going with the food at the showing. I'm not sure exactly what was in it. A heap of something that smelled delicious was stuffed in grilled pita bread. The whole thing was dubbed a fresh medley. Inside there was some very tender spiced meat, I'm not sure what kind, and then a bunch of vegetables in a great sauce. Our drinks were iced teas brewed with fresh mint. That one I might even try at home.
The movie itself was a kind of coming-of-age tale that was sweet without putting the audience into sugar shock. It felt natural for Bailey to snuggle into my shoulder while we watched. Our kiss when I took her home felt natural too. After the strange start we had, we're coming together in an unhurried way that just seems right. I'm hoping I'm not indulging in wishful thinking. But I guess I'll see. Fortunately, we have a common day off in less than a week. We have tentative plans to spend it together.
I'm looking forward to what will come next.
Silas flags Harper and Nolan down before they can park at the center. Then, with his fingers flicking on a page of notations, he holds up his notebook. "The cars are gone!"
"Are all of the cars gone?" John asks.
"All except two. And there are semis, new ones, Kenworths. They've been unloading crates at the buildings the cars were around for an hour."
"Any idea what's in the crates?" Harper probes.
Silas shakes his head. "They just have numbers on them. But they seemed pretty heavy."
"Good work, Silas," John responds. "We'll take it from here. You should get to school."
"All right," Silas agrees. "I have a math test today."
"You'll do great," John assures him.
"So, what do we do now?" John asks Harper after Silas takes off on his bike.
"We have to call Grey. Whatever La Fiera's operation is, it's shifting into another gear."
"What do you think is in those crates?" John wonders. "Drugs?"
"Only if they came through tunnels straight from Mexico. And crates like that would be enough to supply all of California and then some. I don't think La Fiera would risk concentrating that much product in one place."
"Then what else?" John presses.
"I don't know, Nolan. And I'm not sure how we're going to find out. Remember this morning while you were loading up that Grey said he wanted to talk to me in his office? He told me that the buildings where those cars had been parking were bought up by the same shell corporation that owns the cars. They're private property that's been zoned for warehousing. There's nothing illegal about unloading a bunch of crates into warehouse space."
"Unless the crates contain contraband," John interjects.
"Which we can't prove without searching them, and we can't search them without a warrant. La Fiera's brilliant. She's made sure no one's observing her people doing anything illegal. So we don't have probable cause."
"So we wait for her to do something illegal?" John wonders.
"That's up to Grey," Harper insists. " But there's nothing to keep us from watching the traffic in and out. And some of the streets around here prohibit trucks over a certain weight limit."
"Right, the asphalt can't take the punishment. The trucks tear it up." John grins. "So if we catch a semi on one of those streets, we can legitimately stop it."
"We can," Harper confirms, "and ask for license, registration, and insurance. We can also ticket the driver. And if he resists or fails to cooperate in any way…."
"We can bring him in," John finishes. "There's one of those streets only three blocks from here, and it's directly on the route to the freeway."
"You drive, Nolan," Harper instructs. "On our way there, I'll update Grey on the secure channel."
John starts toward the shop. "That should be interesting."
