Free Web of Deceit by Peggy Slocum Page B

where we can park close to the garage and
check it out without being noticed.”
    “Finally, a little
hope,” Beth says. “But what I don’t get is why these guys that took your tires
would want Sarah?”
    “Me neither, but I
guarantee they’ll wish they never involved Sarah,” Elliot says, making a
promise.
     
    *   *   *
     
    “Perfect,” Beth
says, pointing. “Park beside those hedges over there.”
    “Good eye,” Elliot
agrees. “We can walk from there.”
    “Was it the wisest
move doing this during daylight?” Beth whispers as they approach the old
garage’s back lot.
    “If they’re not
who we are looking for, then we ask ’em how much for an oil change.” Elliot
tries to reassure Beth. “And if they are, we call Frank.” Elliot motions Beth
to take the south side of the garage as he continues north.
    Beth
runs up to the south wall and hugs it as she continues quietly toward the
front. The sun has melted most of the newly fallen snow on this side of the
building. Her heart is pounding hard and fast like a drum pulsating inside her
head. She feels for her bottle of mace on the inside of her trench coat, just
in case.
    Nearing
the front, she smells the sweet, pungent odor of kerosene and motor oil. Smells like a garage . She peers around the corner. No one outside. She hears the sound of tools clanging and pneumatic wrenches coming from inside
the garage. Maybe this isn’t the place. They’re making too much noise to be
worried about being found.
    The
garage is a two-story structure with an apartment on the second story. Hung
over the ten-foot wide, steel garage door, a sign reads “Lou’s Garage.” She
takes a step to move around to the front of the garage but freezes motionless a
second later when she hears a latch click followed by the a door creaking open.
    Beth
jumps back to the side of the building and presses herself flat against the
gray brick wall. A metal door slams shut. Her heart races faster as she
commands herself, Get it together. She glimpses around the corner again.
This time she spies the backside of a man in blue coveralls ascending the
grated stairs to the upstairs apartment. She notices a small window within
reach. Standing on her toes, she peeks through it.
    A tireless,
dark-blue van is jacked up in the center of the floor with an old black Dodge
Ram 150 club cab parked next to it. A hand grabs her shoulder. Now what? ! Stay cool, girl, keep it together. Beth starts
toask, “How much for a … ?” as she spins around, but instead blurts,
“Elliot! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”
    “I got a look at
that guy’s face that just went upstairs,” Elliot whispers. “He was the driver
that stole my tires.”
    “Of course.
There’s a dark blue van without tires in there.”
    “I’ll bet the
paint is still wet. You got your phone on you?”
    “It’s in the
Jeep.”
    “OK, this is what
we’ll do,” Elliot says. “Call Frank and have him set up a sandwich on the north
and south of Oldfield on the block where Sal’s old place was.”
    Beth draws a
blank. “A sandwich?”
    “He’ll know what I
mean.” He tosses the keys to Beth. “Take the Jeep and be ready to come through
the back and block ’em from running. Call me when it’s in play. I want to stay
close and quiet.” Elliot switches his cell phone to silent mode as he runs
toward a small hedge of unkempt shrubs, near the front of the building,
disappearing from Beth’s sight.
    Beth takes off like
lightening to the Jeep. Once inside, she reaches for her purse and pulls out
the cell. She presses speed-dial two for Frank’s cell.
    Frank picks up
after two rings. “Beth, what’s goin’ on?”
    “Elliot needs a
sandwich on Oldfield. We’re on the block where Sal’s old place was. The target
is the gray brick garage.”
    “When?”
    “Yesterday. Make
it fast and quiet. Call me when you get here.”
    “OK, we can be
there …”
    Beth ends the
call.
    She did it
again. Frank grabs his