Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [224]
“Actually, I have more help than I need. The KC cops are a couple of Dumpsters down,” she lied, pleased when the kid immediately began a nervous dance. His head jerked in both directions. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other as if preparing to run.
“Yeah, well. Good luck then.” Rather than decide which direction to risk, he found an unlocked door and disappeared into the back of a warehouse.
She tossed a bulging garbage bag to the side without opening it. Stucky would never leave it hidden inside a bag. In the past, his surprises had been left in plain sight, where they were easily discovered, often by unsuspecting citizens. Maybe she was wasting her time going through Dumpsters.
Just then she saw the corner of a white cardboard take-out container. Slowly, she stepped closer, lifting each leg high as if wading through water, ignoring the squish-squash sounds beneath her feet. The last two containers had yielded one green meatball sandwich and some moldy ribs. Yet, each time she spotted a new one her pulse quickened. She felt a surge of adrenaline as she swatted at flies and brushed off wilted lettuce, cigarette butts and wadded pieces of tinfoil.
She lifted the container carefully, keeping it level and setting it on the edge of the Dumpster. The box was about the size of a small cake or pie. It’d provide ample room for a kidney or a lung. Neither organ required much space. She had once found a lung from one of Stucky’s victims stuffed inside a container no bigger than a sandwich.
Sweat trickled down her back, despite the morning being damp and chilly. By now, she imagined she reeked as bad as the garbage she stood in. She steadied her fingers and sucked in her breath. The surgical mask clung to her mouth and nose. She slipped off the container’s tab and pulled open the lid. The smell made her turn her head and hold her breath. After a few seconds, she was able to look again. Who’d ever guess spoiled fettuccine Alfredo would curdle and stink like rotten eggs? At least that’s what Maggie thought the contents had once been. It was difficult to tell without lifting the thin film of fuzzy green and gray scum off the top. She closed and secured the lid.
“Find anything interesting?”
The deep voice startled her. Had the young gangster changed his mind? She grasped the Dumpster’s edge so she wouldn’t slip and fall backward into the trash. When she turned, she found Detective Ford staring up at her. Only this morning she hardly recognized him. Like her, he was dressed in street clothes, blue jeans, a gray hooded sweatshirt and a blue Kansas City Royals baseball cap. He looked much younger without the suit and tie and without his older partner.
She tugged off the surgical mask and let it dangle at her neck.
“I’m finding that we waste entirely too much food in this country,” she said, dropping the container and wading to the opposite side of the Dumpster where she had left a milk crate on the cobblestone to aid in her climb.
“I didn’t realize the FBI was trying to police that sort of thing.”
She checked to see if there would be a lecture. He smiled.
“So are you undercover or off duty?” she asked, pointing to the baseball cap as she peeled off the latex gloves.
“I should ask you the same thing.”
“I had some free time this morning,” she said, as if that should be explanation enough for her to be knee-deep, sifting through garbage.
“Hey, Ford, where the hell did you disappear?” a familiar voice called from around the corner.
“Over here,” Detective Ford answered.
Even before he came into view, Maggie felt the annoying flutter in her stomach. Nick Morrelli looked just as handsome as she had remembered, tall and lean with a confident stride. He, too, wore blue jeans with a red Nebraska Cornhuskers sweatshirt. He was at Ford’s side before he recognized her, and when he did, his smile revealed dimples in an otherwise