In the bright sunlight, there was no hope of camouflaging the detectives� approach, so they made a bold move with vans and SUVs to surround the last warehouse by the wharf. Silently, they poured out of their vehicles and cautiously approached the front door, guns drawn and aimed at the sun. Jones and Sorenson led the approach to the manager�s office. Between the dark hallways created by boxes inside the warehouse, they could see the light from the partially open door. The detectives floated noiselessly to the door, giving one another hand signs and silent directions until they had surrounded all visible exits.

Jones peered into the door and could easily see one large male Hispanic, very muscular, watching television in Spanish, his back to the door. He recognized the man from the limousine the previous day. He stood and entered the manager�s office, taking care to check the corners for any hidden accomplices, with or without black raincoats.

�Hold it! Don�t move!� Jones said loudly, keeping a careful eye on the man�s hands to make sure he didn�t move for any weapons.

The man put his hands in the air and looked very fearful. �No hablo ingl�s. No hablo ingl�s.�

Fortunately, Jones spoke Spanish, so he was able to make sure this gentleman understood him even though he was claiming to speak no English. First, Jones asked for his name, and he replied, �Hector.�

Diane and Danny looked at each other and Diane repeated, �Hector. That�s one mystery solved.� Now that one of Harry�s hospital tales was proven to be true, Diane was even more confused about Harry and how much he was really involved with this group of drug importers.

�The guy says there is a basement storage closet, and that �the redhead� is in there. He says he doesn�t know anything about Denby,� Jones explained to the group outside the office. He had handcuffed Hector to the office chair so the detectives could proceed unhindered to where Don was being held.

The detectives crept carefully down a dark back staircase into a blacker basement. Aware that flashlights would make them easy targets for hidden accomplices, they paused to allow their eyes to adjust further to the darkness. The basement felt confining because the ceiling was lower than usual. Tiny droplets of light spilled in through spaces between the wallboards and bounced around the room, leaving delicate rays behind them to guide the detectives between the piles of boxes and junk. As they walked, excited dust floated in the air and danced with the rays, unaware of the danger unfolding around them.

The detectives positioned themselves outside the storage closet, and Danny opened the door with a bang while Diane stood above him to shine her flashlight into the eyes of anyone who might be lying in wait. Instead, they saw Don suspended from the ceiling in a noose, his face purple, his arms tied behind his back, his toes brushing a table beneath him. Don�s clothes were stained with purple ink. There were open wounds on his face, from which blood had flooded, covering him in a dark, sticky, crimson coating.