“No. This equipment is all new and hasn’t been fully installed yet. Besides, the substation isn’t our property. Eugene Wyatt from TVEC just gave me permission a couple of hours ago to install some cameras there. I should have them in place tonight.”
“If you see anything else suspicious, give us a call and we’ll follow up on it.”
“I’ll look through what videos I do have, and if there is anything worthwhile, I’ll contact you,” Bannock offered.
“Thanks.”
Lonnie stood from the chair. Its chrome feet scooted across the floor, causing the chair to vibrate with a sharp metallic clang. She turned toward the door to leave. Bannock called out to her before she got all the way across the room.
“Um, Trooper Wyatt. I… uh….” he paused nervously. “Please forgive me for the way I acted earlier. When Harry called up and said a hot-looking lady trooper was coming up to talk to me, I figured he was joking and it was some big, mean, butch woman. Seeing you kind of threw me off. I mean, you are a heck of a lot more attractive than any cop I’ve ever seen, and, uh…”
His face turned deep red. “Aw crap! There I go again. I’d better shut up before I put my foot all the way down my throat.”
He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead in exasperation and continued. “I’ve never been good at flirting. I’d always get too nervous and end up gabbing to the point where they just turn and leave. I think I need to get a different social life. Anyway, won’t happen again.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take it as a compliment.” Lonnie opened the door and started out. She turned back to him and added, “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll delete the flirty parts from my report. Good luck with your social life, Charlie.”
“Thanks,” replied the still-blushing Bannock.
She walked out the door, crossed the parking area, and got into her waiting cruiser. Three minutes later, Trooper Wyatt pulled up to the locked entrance of the TVEC substation a hundred yards south of the pump station. The low-frequency hum of the massive transformers vibrated softly through the night. Her body shivered involuntarily as she rose out of her cruiser. Even though she had been outside at the pump station, it seemed much colder here. The giant halogen lamps that lit the area near Bannock’s guard shack must have raised the temperature several degrees. Here in the shadowy darkness of the electrical substation, with only the single cold mercury lamp inside the compound, the atmosphere was icy. The inside of her nose felt frosty when she inhaled.
Lonnie scanned the area in front of the gate for clues. She pulled the long Maglite out of her utility belt, switched it on, and twisted the cap of the lens so the beam spread wide, brightly illuminating the gate area before her. The gate was set in an eight-foot-high fence rimmed with barbed wire that jutted out from the compound on angled metal posts. The wire was intended to keep vandals out. Someone had, it seemed, played a practical joke by throwing a pair of shoes tied together at the laces up onto the wire. The white-and-blue Nike basketball shoes hung motionless in the cold night air.
Lonnie observed several sets of impressions left by truck tires that ran in and out of the fenced courtyard. The gate itself was closed, and she pulled on it to verify that the locking system worked. It did not budge at her tugging. She randomly pressed several buttons on the digital keypad and tried again. It did not react. Whoever had gotten in here earlier either had the combination to the lock, or had overridden the electronic device with technology. As far as she could tell, there were no signs of foul play or break-in at the gate or the surrounding fence. Other than those that led from where the various trucks had parked to the keypad, there were no footprints, either. At least, there were no human footprints. A single line of dog paw impressions trailed off through the snow into the woods.
Probably Penny.Daddy takes that dog everywhere.
She picked up her cell phone and called the TVEC dispatcher on duty to request the number combination for the keypad to open the locked substation gate.
A male voice answered. “TVEC Dispatch, this is Franklin. How can I help you?”
“This is Trooper Wyatt from AST. I’m at the Salt Jacket substation. Could you or someone there supply me with the code for gate?”
“Good evening, ma’am. What is your badge number, please?”
“Four three oh seven,” she responded.
“Thank you,” he replied, “and what is your full name?”
“Lonnie Wyatt.”
“And, finally, one more question.” The dispatcher paused for a moment. “Who was your eleventh-grade English teacher?”
“What?” She exclaimed incredulously
“I am sorry, ma’am, but I need to know this information.” Franklin’s voice was serious, but Lonnie was certain she could detect a hint of a grin in its sound.
“Your mother! Mrs. Eckert,” she blurted out.
“That would be correct, ma’am.” Franklin replied. “She’ll be delighted you remembered.”
“Franklin, you’re enjoying this. I can tell. Now, how about the number?”
“No problem. Six, six, eight, pound, seven.”
“Thank you,” she said sarcastically. “Tell your mom I said hi, and you can also tell her that my writing skills have improved considerably. Hers was the only class where I ever got a B.”
“I’ll let her know. Have a good evening. Out here.” He hung up the phone.
She pressed the disconnect button on her cell
