Chapter 6 - THE SECOND CRATE
By afternoon, the search became bigger than Titan.
Detectives checked traffic cameras.
Animal control contacted pet shops, zoos, reptile breeders, and wildlife experts.
Evan Pike had purchased at least six venomous snakes under false paperwork during the previous month.
Three were believed to have been in the Centennial Park container.
That left three more unaccounted for.
Maybe.
The numbers were messy.
Illegal wildlife dealers rarely kept clean records.
At 3:14 p.m., Harris called.
“Mercer, you need to see this.”
“I’m at the hospital.”
“I know. I’m downstairs.”
We met in the lobby.
He opened a laptop.
“Traffic camera two blocks from Pike’s storage unit.”
Video played.
Pike’s SUV stopped beside a dumpster.
He got out.
Opened the rear hatch.
Inside were two gray transport crates.
One was the size of the box found at Centennial Park.
The other was larger.
Much larger.
Pike removed only the small crate.
Then drove away.
“So he still had the second one.”
“At that point.”
“Where did he go?”
“Camera lost him.”
I stared at the frozen frame.
“Why release snakes?”
Harris shrugged.
“Destroy evidence.”
“That makes no sense. You dump contraband in a warehouse dumpster, not a park full of children.”
“I agree.”
I zoomed in.
There was something taped to the larger crate.
White paper.
Black letters.
I squinted.
“What’s that?”
Harris leaned closer.
We enhanced the frame.
Three words became visible.
DO NOT OPEN.
Below them was a red warning symbol.
VENOMOUS.
My stomach dropped.
“How many animals fit in that?”
“Depends.”
“Best guess.”
“Five. Ten. Maybe more.”
I stood.
“We need Pike.”
“We’re working on it.”
My phone rang.
Veterinary ICU.
I answered immediately.
“This is Mercer.”
“Officer Mercer, Titan is awake.”
For the first time all day, I smiled.
Then the nurse said something else.
“He’s agitated.”
“What do you mean?”
“He keeps trying to stand.”
“That sounds like Titan.”
“No, there’s more.”
I heard barking in the background.
Titan.
Sharp.
Repeated.
Alert barking.
“What’s he doing?”
“We brought in a delivery from the loading dock. He started reacting immediately.”
I looked at Harris.
“What delivery?”
“Medical supplies. Why?”
A crash came through the phone.
Someone screamed.
Then the nurse shouted:
“Everybody back!”
I ran.
Harris followed.
When the elevator doors opened on the veterinary floor, staff were rushing away from a cardboard box near the nurses’ station.
Titan stood behind the glass of ICU.
Weak.
Bandaged.
But barking furiously.
The box moved.
Once.
May you like
Then again.
A dry rattling sound came from inside.
