Mystery Ghost by Willow Morgan

Author:Willow Morgan [Morgan, Willow]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Police procedural short story, Mystery suspense ebook
Publisher: Willow Morgan
Published: 2020-07-05T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

Jo McGee jabbed her husband and partner Nate Fricks in the shoulder. “Rise and shine. They’re on the move.”

He put his phone down and straightened up in the driver’s seat of his restored Ford Mustang. Both Detectives watched from the shadows behind the Post Office as a glossy black moving van glided out of a nearby alley.

Jo took out her high-powered camera and snapped a picture of the license plate while Nate clipped his seatbelt, but he didn’t start the motor. Jo put the camera into the backseat and checked her watch. It was two-thirty in the morning.

The van eased down the street in no particular hurry. It turned a corner at the far intersection. Nate counted on his fingers.....8....9....10. Only then did he turn the ignition. The car gave its usual grumbling roar firing to life. He waited another ten seconds before he dropped it into first gear.

He took even longer putting the car in motion. Even at this hour—especially at this hour—the Mustang’s characteristic rumble echoed far and wide. Jo tried more than once to make Nate bring an unmarked Police car on this stakeout—or any other stakeout, for that matter—but Nate wouldn’t hear of it. No logic in the known universe would convince him to drive any other car, unless it was an even more souped-up muscle car, preferably one from his personal collection.

The engine noise thumped against the buildings of sleepy old Soledad. When the pair reached the intersection, Jo pointed to the right where the van was just disappearing onto the highway.

Once they merged with the rest of traffic, other cars hid the Mustang, but Nate still didn’t take the chance of moving too close. The van exited four miles away. Nate tailed it down several winding country roads to a deserted old farm far out of town.

Nate braked behind some trees and Jo peered through her camera lens beyond the split-rail fence. “What can you see?” he asked.

She didn’t have to tell him. A sliding door pulled back to reveal brilliant fluorescent light pouring from a large barn. Men scurried back and forth when the van pulled inside, but they didn’t shut the door.

In front of God and everyone, they unsnapped the truck’s cargo gate and pushed it up. Inside, hundreds of Army-green crates piled to the ceiling. Men hopped into the compartment and started handing the containers down to their comrades on the ground, who stacked them to one side. Through the open door, Jo could see mountains of similar crates all towering one on top of the other.

“You bad, bad boys,” Nate murmured under his breath. “Santa won’t be bringing you kids any new Legos this year.”

Jo snapped hundreds of pictures with her camera. “Those are Israeli serial numbers stamped on the crates. The labels are all printed in Hebrew lettering. I’m getting as many of the serial numbers as I can. Maybe we can match them from international shipping databases.”

“Good luck with that,” Nate returned. “Even if the Israeli government manufactured these weapons, they wouldn’t admit they sold them to anyone overseas.

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