by Kylie Brant
When the room was empty save for Morales, McGuire, and Risa, the captain spoke again. “Nate, you’ll be paired with Risa for the duration of the case.” He seemed to watch the detective’s face closely. “Will that be a problem?”
It came to her in a flash that the assignments had been determined by the captain, although he’d allowed McGuire to run the briefing. Which explained why the man wasn’t working with his regular partner. She, too, observed Nate for a reaction to the assignment. But his expression remained impassive. “No, sir.”
“She’ll have access to all details pertinent to the case,” Eduardo went on. A smile flickered at the corner of his mouth as he looked at Risa. “Let’s hope you still have those famous instincts of yours.”
The words started her heart hammering in her chest. No pressure. No expectations.
Yeah, right. “I hope I can be of some help,” she managed inanely, and searched for something, anything, to change the subject. “What about the tape?” She looked at both men in turn. “I’m sure IT isn’t done with it yet, but did anyone come back for it last night?”
Nate shook his head. “We put a dummy camera in the place of the one he left. I’ve had some undercover officers posted there around the clock since we left the scene. There have been a few people in the area, none of whom approached the tree. But they questioned and ID’d all of them.”
“He’d be expecting a police presence at what’s still a crime scene,” Risa mused. “He may wait a while before returning.” The UNSUB could afford to be patient, up to a point. There was no rain in the forecast this week. All he risked was a dead battery on the camera. And it had been well hidden in that fork between the branches. Chances of it being discovered were small. Most would never have noticed it.
Most wouldn’t have dreamed of the scene.
“We’ll keep someone posted there for the duration.” The corner of his mouth pulled up briefly. “We can only hope it gets solved that easily.” Taking a sheet from the folder on the table in front of him, he continued, “Results of the latents test were back this morning. No prints on the ID, toy badge, camera, or the tape. They’d been wiped clean.”
“IT will make a dub of the tape for us before going to work on the original,” the captain put in. “I’ll let you know when that’s ready.”
Nate nodded. “In the meantime, I finally tracked down Sam Crowley, the guy the witness was meeting when she happened on the body yesterday morning. No doubt she’d given him a heads-up that she’d named him, because he did a good job of making himself scarce last night. But we grabbed him when he was going to work this morning. He’s in the interview room right now.”
Morales pursed his lips. “He’s the ex-con, right? Anything in his background that rings a bell?”
“He did a two-year stretch for embezzlement. Before that he had a couple arrests for simple assault and leaving the scene of an accident.”
“Might’ve seen something on his way to meet Bixby,” Risa put in.
Morales jerked his head toward the door. “Go find out.” They got as far as the door before his voice stopped them. “Nate, swing by Darrell’s desk and pick up a visitor’s badge for Risa until we get her a temp ID.”
She followed the detective out of the room and through the maze of cubicles and desks to the front of the district house. Darrell turned out to be the red-haired man who’d brought coffee to the conference room. He barely came up to Risa’s chin, was whipcord lean, and from her few seconds of observation, was never still.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” he was saying as they approached his glassed-in cubicle, turning away from the woman, waiting impatiently for his help, to answer the phone. Risa knew from her time on the force that the glass would be bulletproof. If the woman were waiting for a copy of an accident or police report, it would be slid to her through the small horizontal opening where the glass met the counter. The precautions had never seemed overly cautious to her. There were a lot of crazies in the world, and a full moon seemed to draw every one of them to the police station.
“Philadelphia Police Department, Seventh District, will you hold please?” He stabbed his finger at a button and answered yet another call. Then he twirled toward them on his wheeled office chair and beamed. “Nate, I took a message for you while you were in conference. From your not-so-secret admirer.” He opened up the door to the cubicle to hand him a note. “Your person of interest is in interview one. And you’ll want this for your guest.”
Nonplussed, Risa took the visitor badge he handed her. It had a photo ID on it, although she hadn’t posed for one. With one glance she noted that an old department photo had been affixed to it. Distractedly she observed that her unsmiling persona from seven years ago looked almost impossibly young.
The rest of her focus was on Nate’s admirer. He’d given the note one quick glance before shoving it into his pocket. But she didn’t think it was her imagination that a slight flush of color was spreading beneath the stubble on his jaw.
After shooting them both a blinding smile, Darrell was back in his glassed cubicle, wheeling to the phone to answer it. “How may I direct your call?”
“Thanks, Darrell.” Nate’s mouth quirked at Risa’s expression as she fell into step beside him. “Radar, we call him around here. Like that character from the old M.A.S.H. reruns? Has a knack for knowing what we want before we do sometimes.”
“That must come in handy.”
They went down a corridor with doors on each side. Nate placed his hand on the knob of the first door on the right, hesitated. “I’ll take the lead on this.”
Hardly earth shattering. “All right.”
“With the runaround Crowley gave us when we were trying to pick him up, I don’t expect him to fall all over himself being helpful. But if I’m not getting anywhere and you see an opening, a different direction that might work, feel free to jump in. We’ll play off each other.”
He’d managed to surprise her, but there was no time for a response. Nate was pushing the door open into the room. She followed him inside.
Sam Crowley had crimped brown hair, a square jaw, and the pumped-up body so many ex-cons exited prison with. His hands were laced tightly on the table in front of him, but nerves showed in the way his knee bounced under the table. And the door had barely opened before he started talking.
“Hey, do I need a lawyer? I can’t get this guy to say one way or another.” He jerked his head at the uniformed officer standing in the corner of the room. At Nate’s nod, the officer went out the door.
“I don’t know, Sam, do you?” Nate’s voice was mild enough as he and Risa sat across from the man at the table. “I imagine you’ve got one on speed dial after your last run-in with the law, right?”
Crowley’s lips tightened. “Can’t ever let a guy get clear of it, can you? One mistake, and I’m paying for it the rest of my life. Does that seem fair? I’m cooperating here. Came in on my own free will, and all that.”
That claim took some imagination, given the fact he’d been dodging them for the better part of twelve hours, but apparently Nate was willing to let it pass. “We appreciate your cooperation. Good citizens like you make our job easier.”
The man looked at him suspiciously, but Nate’s expression was impassive. “Yeah. Well. Honestly, I got nothing to tell you. I was on my way to meet a friend of mine. You talked to her. Heather Bixby? And she called to say don’t come, things are a mess here and all that, so I turned around and went home. Like I say, I don’t need any more trouble with the law. My parole officer tells me to think through situations, avoid them if they’re going to get me jammed up, right?” He looked at them carefully, as if to assess their appreciation of his decision making.
“And what was the nature of your visit to Wakeshead Park yesterday morning?”
Clearly prepared for Nate’s next question, he gave a grin that encompassed both of them. One that was clearly meant to disarm. “Me and Heather, we got a thing going. Just hooking up. No harm, no foul.�
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“Her husband might disagree with that.”
The smile abruptly vanished from Crowley’s face. His weight shifted. “Last I heard, getting a little on the side wasn’t a matter for the cops.”
“Ordinarily it isn’t. But when an affair is used to hide a crime,” Nate’s voice hardened, “then it concerns us. A lot.”
Risa watched the other man closely. A faint sheen of perspiration glistened on his brow. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed convulsively. “Whatever happened in that park, I had nothing to do with it. I hadn’t even gotten there yet.”
Nate turned to her, a sardonic twist to his mouth. “And there’s the cover.”
Taking his cue, she nodded. “Start something up with a new woman in the area and then just happen to suggest that particular park as a rendezvous point. Gives him a perfect opportunity to scout the area, figure exactly how he’s going to pull it off. Then just set up a meet for the morning after he offs that cop—”
“I didn’t kill any cop!”
“—and he has a ready-made alibi.” Her gaze cut to Crowley then. “Except you don’t. Bixby never even saw you yesterday morning before she called and told you to stay away. And she certainly can’t attest to your whereabouts the night before, during the time the murder was committed. So I hope you have another lady lined up for that time frame. Say two nights ago between nine and four A.M.? Because otherwise, we’re looking at you for the murder, and we’re looking hard.”
The man swiped at the moisture beading above his upper lip. “How stupid would I have to be to take Heather to a place I was planning to commit murder?”
Risa looked at Nate. “I’m guessing that chair he’s sitting in has known any number of stupid occupants.”
Nate nodded, his eyes flinty. “I can’t even begin to count them.”
“Well, if I were going to commit murder”—Sam lurched forward in his seat—“I’d be smart enough to arrange for someone to vouch for my whereabouts, wouldn’t I? I was home alone. Watched TV until ten or so before going to bed. I get up early when I’m meeting Heather.”
“And what time was that?”
He lifted a bulky shoulder. “I was running late. Didn’t wake up until five, and I was supposed to see her in a half hour. I barely got into the park before she was calling and telling me there were cops all over the place.”
“Because she knows that would make you uncomfortable?”
Crowley aimed a derisive stare at Risa. “Uncomfortable. Yeah. The terms of my parole are pretty clear. I have to steer clear of trouble, and that’s what I did. I went home and went back to bed. Figured I could catch another couple hours before work.”
She nodded. “I can see that. No use getting caught up for several hours answering questions, right?”
“Questions I wouldn’t have had the answers to. I didn’t see anything. Didn’t get close enough. Didn’t see anyone at all going in or on my way out.”
Her senses heightened. They always did when a suspect offered information that they hadn’t gotten around to asking yet. “Did that seem odd to you?”
“What?”
“That you didn’t see anyone around. That park is a known hangout for druggies. Lots of users, buyers, and sellers. I’d think you’d have run into some of them.”
He shook his head emphatically.
“But you’ve seen them there before?”
Hesitating, he considered the question for a moment before deciding it was harmless. “There are always losers around there, I guess. I don’t pay much attention to them.”
“But you paid enough attention to notice none of them were in the area two mornings ago.”
Crowley’s eyes darted to Nate. “Like I said, I was running late. I was barely inside the park before Heather called and I left.”
In an aside, Risa told Nate, “It goes to figure he might not see anyone if he didn’t get deep enough inside it.” She shifted her attention to the other man. “Heather was in the northeast corner. What entrance did you use?”
“Uh . . . the southwest.”
“So you would have passed that World War statue. How far would you say you traveled beyond it before you got her call?”
“Not far. Seventy yards or so.”
She rested her forearms on the table and leaned against them. “Here’s the thing, Sam. That statue is situated nearly in the center of the park. If you were seventy yards past it, you were a helluva lot farther inside the area than you claimed earlier.” She let the moment stretch. Then another. “You want to rethink your story?”
“Jesus.” He shoved back from the table. “Statues, how many feet past . . . What the hell difference does it make? I’m trying to say here that I didn’t see anything.”
“A guy tells one lie, he’s liable to tell a lot more. That makes us think you’re holding out on us. Maybe about seeing the killer.”
He was sweating profusely now. Flicking a glance at Nate, he clearly saw no mercy in his expression. “I didn’t. I swear it.”
“But you saw someone.”
“Jesus. Jesus.” He wiped his face on the sleeve of his shirt. “He’s going to kill me.”
“Who?” Nate pressed relentlessly. “Who did you see? Who did you talk to?”
“He’s got nothing to do with the other. That killing.”
“His name.”
“Juicy.” With the word, all the fight seemed to stream out of him. “I only know him by that name, I swear. I stopped to, uh, talk to him, and the next thing Heather called and I left.”
“You bought drugs from him?”
He didn’t answer. Using drugs was an automatic parole violation and could land him back in prison. But it explained his lies and his reluctance to come clean about his trip into the park.
“Here’s the thing.” Nate hooked an elbow over the back of his chair. “You can tell us now, or we track down Juicy and ask him the same question. He’s not going to be likely to hold back, seeing as how you gave him up to us, told us he’s a dealer. And he will know that.” He paused a moment to let the import of that statement sink in. “I’ll make sure of it. Right now I don’t care whether you’re using or not, but if I have to go to all that work to find him to ask the same question I’m asking you, I’m going to care. And when I do, your parole officer gets a call.”
“A little pot. That’s all, I swear.”
Risa surveyed the man in silence. He was an idiot if he thought he could successfully pass the drug screenings if he was using. But that wasn’t their concern. His supplier just might be.
After several more minutes of questioning, it became apparent that Crowley had nothing more to offer. Nate shoved a legal pad across the table to him. “Write it up. Everything from when you left your place to meet Heather until the time you got back home.”
It was another twenty minutes before Nate was satisfied with the man’s statement. He and Risa left the interview room, and he gave a nod to the officer waiting outside the door. “Kick him loose.”
She easily kept pace with the detective as they headed down the hallway. “Admitting to the drug use explains his unwillingness to talk to us. I doubt he can shed any light on the identity of the killer, though.”
“But the mysterious Juicy might.”
“Exactly.” She slanted him a glance. The stubble of beard lent him a vaguely lethal air that had been missing yesterday. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he has an arrest record and that Vice is very familiar with that name. Shouldn’t be hard to find, if so.”
“You read my mind.”
Chapter 5
Nate felt in his suit pockets. He hated the sight of other people chewing gum and suspected he looked just as ridiculous when he had a piece in his mouth. But swapping cigarettes for gum had helped him kick the nicotine habit when Tucker had come to live with him a couple years ago. Now he just needed to find something to replace the gum habit he’d picked up in its stead.
His search was in vain. Instead his fingers came in cont
act with the crumpled paper he’d shoved in there earlier. Tatiana. He felt a quick surge of embarrassment. He hadn’t heard from her in over a month. He’d thought—he’d hoped—she’d given up. But apparently she fed off disinterest.
They entered the squad room and he spotted a wastebasket next to one of the desks. He pulled the paper from his pocket, meaning to three-point it into the trash. Was shocked to have it snatched out of his hand.
“ ‘Nate the Great?’ ” Risa read off the note. Her mouth quirked as she turned slightly to prevent his grab for the paper. “One of your conquests, detective?”
“She’s sixty if she’s a day, and has a strange fixation on me. I don’t encourage it.”
Risa flicked a nail at the message. “So inviting you over for borscht and kotlety isn’t an ethnic euphemism for sex?”
Dammit, he could feel his ears heating. “I was throwing that away.”
“No problem.” She tossed it neatly in the wastebasket from an admirable distance, then cupped a hand to her ear. “Is that the sound of a heart shattering I hear?”
“You’re hilarious,” he informed her, lengthening his strides. She kept up with him easily. She was nearly as tall as he was. And her legs . . . well, he’d noticed how long they were yesterday. Before he’d realized she had a sense of humor.
The fact that he was the butt of it tempered his appreciation of that quality. “Keep your voice down. These guys don’t need much encouragement.”
She smirked. “Ah, department humor. I miss it.”
“Stick around. A few days here should cure that.” He pushed open the door to his office, belatedly remembering to step aside for her to enter first. “You can take Cass’s desk. She’s set up temporarily near Brandau.” And hopefully Jett would keep her mind on the job. It had required some fast-talking to convince the captain that Cass belonged on the case. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d told her she was on very thin ice, professionally.
Rounding his desk, he powered up his laptop and accessed the departmental database. He tapped in Juicy’s alias, and after a moment he added drugs as a keyword, hoping at least for an arrest report to get them started. A minute later he gave a long low whistle. “Jackpot.”