Brock glanced over as Zeke rolled down the passenger window and gazed at the houses they passed by. The neighborhood was familiar. Less than a year ago the A-shift had responded to a fire on this very street they were on.
It was a well maintained working class neighborhood with simple yards, American flags hanging from half the front porches, and either a pickup truck or a minivan in each driveway. Real people with real families lived here, and this piece of work, Rhys Dillon had the nerve to set up shop here. Jax passed the house they came to check out, took a turn onto a dirt side road and parked in the grass. Stopping his pickup truck right in front of the house was a bad idea. They weren’t there in an official capacity. Hell, they weren’t supposed to be there at all. Brock needed information, and to get it he needed to lay eyes on some sign of a meth lab at the place.
Leaving the truck, they strolled along the road. The house was simple with fresh yellow paint on the outer walls. Its small porch was empty. There were two cars in the driveway. A quick glance at the side nearest the trees and Brock saw the curtains in one of the windows were open.
He nodded his head at the window, and Zeke understood. Walking past the house so as not to look suspicious, they continued down the road a bit before doubling back. Trees covered them for most of the way. At the edge of the yard they hurried over to the side of the house. Brock was tall enough to peek in the window.
They had scored. It was obvious right away. All of the typical meth lab paraphernalia was there. Glass jars, tubes, funnels, and beakers littered two long metal tables. Someone moved on the other side of the small room, their back to the window.
Brock withdrew his head. “This is it,” he whispered.
“What’s the plan?” Zeke asked. “I say we go in there and bust it up.”
Brock shot him a look. “You’re sounding like Nash.”
“I’m serious,” he added.
“Not happening on my watch.” He reached into the cab of his pickup and pulled out the two SFD windbreakers. “Here. Put this on over your t-shirt.”
Brock considered their options. If the person inside was just as young as the two kids who had died in the other lab, he wanted to give them a chance. Either walk away from the lab and leave the business for good, or get turned in to the police. Either way, he wanted to hear whether they knew Dillon.
Zeke peeked into the window. “I see at least three of them. They look like they should be at the mall, not in a meth lab. I wonder if they’re armed?”
“That’s possible, but they’ll know not to fire off a weapon anywhere near the place. I don’t see any security system. No CCTVs, no extra devices on the windows or hear the doors. Still, we don’t have the full picture, but it’s worth a chance.”
“And you’re sure you don’t want to call the cops now?”
Brock shook his head. “To tell them what? We’re about to illegally enter a home that’s probably a meth lab under the guise of paying them a safety visit? That’ll go over real well when the Chief hears about it.”
“True, but he can hear about it all the same. Are you prepared for that?”
“Let me handle my career in the SFD. It’d be the first time I’ll potentially face discipline. If it comes down to that, it’ll be worth it to know we stopped that Dillon shithead from killing more kids or laying waste to this whole street.”
“Fine. Just making sure you know what you’re getting into.”
“I do… So we ask these kids some questions and give them a chance to get out of here.”
“Hmmm. All right.”
“I’ll wait at the side door. It’s the only other exit. You take the front door. Knock a few times. They’re more likely to bolt and that’ll bring them right to me.”
They split up. Brock maneuvered around the side of the house, taking the few small concrete steps that led up to the side door. He waited, and stood with his hand on the doorknob until Zeke knocked loudly at the front. Not ten seconds later, someone inside pulled open the side door. The kids froze. All three of them were boys, and barely looking old enough to be teenagers, let alone adults. The one nearest the door to the hallway reared his arm back, thinking he could fight Brock, who had close to a foot of height on him. Brock raised his eyebrows, slightly entertained.
“We’re not here to arrest you,” he told them. “I’m not a cop, see? I’m here from the Sparks Fire Department. My friend at the door is not a cop either. We just have a few questions. We’re giving you a chance to give us some information. The more you cooperate, the longer we’ll take to give the cops a heads up about what we think is inside. Understood? You kids are way too young to be thinking of doing heavy jail time.”
The baby faced kid who looked the youngest started shaking. His lower lip trembled. Brock could swear the boy looked about ready to cry.
“Like I said,” Brock continued. “We’re going to let you go, but before you leave, give us what we need, and make sure we don’t ever see you around here or any meth lab. Got it?”