Every Kind of Wicked. Lisa Black
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Название: Every Kind of Wicked
Автор: Lisa Black
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Триллеры
Серия: A Gardiner and Renner Novel
isbn: 9781496722409
isbn:
But he was willing to take that chance.
If he had a working theory, it was this: Jack Renner was obsessed. He had followed this vigilante killer’s trail across the country, doing anything to stay on his trail—using another cop’s name, discrediting guys like Rick to get assigned to the case, cozying up to the hot forensics chick to get the inside scoop on what was found at the scenes and maybe some help with manipulating the evidence. Like a malevolent version of the grifter in The Music Man. That’s the analogy he should use with Maggie. She liked that movie. And if he could convince her that she’d been used, her fury would make Genghis Khan look like Strawberry Shortcake.
Plus, if he could prove that Jack Renner had used different names and different backstories to infiltrate other police departments, the CPD would have to face up to that and get rid of the guy. Get him out of Cleveland and out of Maggie’s life. She would see that Rick had been right all along.
It wasn’t jealousy that motivated him, Rick told himself for the umpteenth time. It was concern.
But Will, or Maggie, or the homicide unit powers that be would never believe that. Better to get the evidence first than to waste time arguing with them. Then there would be nothing Renner could do. What did they call that? A fait accompli? Besides, road trips were supposed to be good for the soul.
Will flagged down the body snatchers, startling Rick out of his thoughts, and he moved out of the way. Keeping a watch for any more of those rodent-sized cockroaches, he didn’t offer to help. Picking up stiffs was not his job.
And they did so, but only after an in-depth discussion of which butchers made the best beef jerky. “They all make their own,” body snatcher number one said. “I like Czuchraj’s.”
Number two said, “Sebastian’s Meats.”
One gave a grunt that was neither agreement nor disagreement, more of the result of exertion as they hefted the body bag onto the gurney.
Will voted: “Dohar’s. When will the post be?”
Two said, “Maybe later today. They’re not too busy so far. Want them to call you?”
“Yes,” Will said.
“No,” Rick told them, and said to his partner, “Open and shut. And we’ve got a notification to do.” He had a bag to pack, car to gas up, GPS to program, and he didn’t need some druggie’s autopsy wasting his time. He waved the envelope holding Marlon Toner’s driver’s license.
Will conceded. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go see who lives on West Twenty-Ninth. You gonna forget about the dog with kraut?”
“Hell no,” Rick said. “We can do that first.”
Chapter 4
Friday, 9:40 a. m.
The girl with the piercings and the pink tips to her hair studied the search warrant; Jack watched her eyes follow each line as she read, and wondered if she might be studying law, or had a bad history with police departments, or simply believed that any job worth doing was worth doing very, very well. But she found it satisfactory, because she retrieved the master key from inside two different locked cabinets and led them to the elevator without a word.
Equally soundless, she traveled up to a fourth-floor hallway to a door second from the end and knocked. Jack had asked before if Evan Harding lived with a roommate, but there had been nothing in the building’s records and indeed no one answered his door. That the dead guy’s name had been the only one on the lease helped them get the search warrant in record time, since no one else’s privacy could be violated.
The girl pulled out her master key card but Jack used the one found on the body. He wanted to be sure they were in the right place. He heard the mechanism slide around so he could open the door.
The unit had been painted white, and with the light gray sky and the snow outside it blinded at first. Jack and Riley established the emptiness of the unit with only a few steps. Easy enough, the only interior door led to the small bathroom and the outer room consisted of a minimal kitchen area, a double bed, and a desk. Nothing hung on the walls, but a multicolored paisley print bedspread lent a splash of color.
Jack’s gaze fell on a framed photo sitting on the second shelf of one of the built-ins. A happy couple in front of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame—the victim, with a slight young woman whose jet-black hair fell slightly past her shoulders. He had one arm around her; she had both of hers around him.
They were in the right place. Jack picked up the photo and held it toward the building manager woman. “This is him. Do you know him?”
She said no. “I mean, I’ve seen him coming and going, but I don’t know him personally. I don’t think I ever had a conversation with him.”
“What about her?”
She peered. “I’ve seen her around, too.”
“Does she live in this room? Or another unit?”
“I see them walking through the lobby. I don’t have any idea where they go.”
Jack went to the doorless closet. Flannel shirts, hoodies, but also two tops with sequins and plunging necklines, a sweater with flowers appliquéd on its sleeves, and a leather jacket with fringes, too small for even the victim to have worn. Add to that a bra strewn across the unmade bed, and Jack would bet that the girl in the picture lived in this unit whether she was on the lease or not.
“Thanks,” he told the pink-tipped woman. “We’ll take it from here.”
She looked around, uncertain.
“We will most likely be here for hours,” Riley told her, and she backed out with great reluctance, clearly not trusting them, yet also not able to spend her whole workday on the fourth floor.
Once she’d left, Jack and Riley could get down to work. Jack started at the wall with the bed and Riley moved into the bathroom, quickly and methodically moving, examining, replacing every item present. Who was Evan Harding, where had he come from, what was he doing/studying/active in, and who might have had a motive to kill him—all on the very outside chance that it had not been a random mugger?
Jack focused on these questions, more comfortable than the question of Rick Gardiner’s goals or what he might find.
The bed didn’t tell him anything except that the occupants felt making one was a waste of time and that they didn’t get too concerned about mixing dirty laundry with clean. The floor underneath it held some old magazines, boxes of supplies such as shampoo and macaroni, and more lost laundry. Jack pulled out a decorative wooden box and opened it to poke through an assortment of trinkets, a Chinese СКАЧАТЬ