future.”
“It will take forensics time to get everything they need – not just from Cronus’s body but from his car. The Porsche is still in the parking lot behind the Sahara Club being processed: fingerprints, photographs, blood samples – all the initial stuff. We’ll transport it to the police garage later this afternoon so we can give it a thorough going-over. There are a lot of question marks around this case, and we don’t want to rush to judgment.”
“So what do you think happened to Cronus?” Zack said.
Debbie shook her head. “I know what somebody
wants
us to think. The excessive violence and the stomping on the body suggest gang involvement. We also found a red bandana at the scene.”
“Implicating Red Rage,” Zack said.
“We’re checking out that angle,” Debbie said. “But the placement of that red bandana is a little too convenient. Gang members are proud of their scarves. They go throughthe stomping ceremony to win the right to wear them. I can’t imagine any gang member casually dropping his scarf close to the body of someone he’d just murdered.”
“Rival gangs have been known to battle,” Zack said. “A member of another gang might have ripped off the bandana during a fight and held on to it so he could use it to frame Red Rage later.”
“We’re working on that possibility too,” Debbie said. “The first step is tracing the scarf to a specific member of Red Rage. If there is DNA on the scarf other than Cronus’s, and it matches the DNA of someone we have on file, we’ve scored – at the very least we’ve connected with a person who can supply a lead about what happened to the scarf.”
“Will that person be able to tell you why someone killed Cronus, then placed his body on the hood of his car?” I said. My voice was bleak, and Zack reached out and took my hand.
“I doubt if they’ll volunteer that information,” Debbie said. “I know what you’re getting at, Joanne. This whole gang angle doesn’t ring true. Cronus comes to you and tells you that there’s a plot to abduct a child from the opening of Racette-Hunter. Six hours later he’s murdered and dumped on his car in the parking lot behind the Sahara Club. The first hours of a police investigation are always tricky. We’re jumpy and if we get what we think could be a lead, it’s tempting to drop everything and follow it. This case has a lot of gang markers and we’ll check them out, but the fact that Cronus believed the photo he sent out was enough to thwart the kidnapping plan suggests something larger.”
“I don’t suppose Cronus’s phone has turned up.”
“Only in my dreams,” Debbie said. “So we soldier on. We continue to find out everything we can about the scene, the body, and the victim’s past, and hope we come up with something.”
“So at this point we don’t know anything,” I said.
“That’s right,” Debbie said. “But, Joanne, I promise you we will, and when that happens, I’ll let you know as much as I can.”
As she stood to leave, Zack’s cell rang. He grimaced and mouthed Darryl Colby’s name. Debbie and I left him to it. When she and I exchanged goodbyes, Debbie’s face was soft with concern. “Are you all right?”
“No,” I said. “I’m scared to death.”
Debbie laughed shortly. “That makes two of us,” she said. And then for the first time since I’d known her she embraced me. “We’ll get them,” she whispered and then she was gone.
Zack was still on the phone when I went back into the living room. “Open the windows,” he said. “Darryl’s on his way.”
I sat on the couch and peeled off my pantyhose. Zack watched appreciatively. “Don’t ever do that again unless we can celebrate the moment.”
“No time to celebrate now?”
“No,” Zack said. “Darryl will be here in fifteen minutes.”
“What’s the rush?” I said.
“I have no idea. Darryl just said the matter was urgent.”
“It must be urgent if Darryl’s coming
“It will take forensics time to get everything they need – not just from Cronus’s body but from his car. The Porsche is still in the parking lot behind the Sahara Club being processed: fingerprints, photographs, blood samples – all the initial stuff. We’ll transport it to the police garage later this afternoon so we can give it a thorough going-over. There are a lot of question marks around this case, and we don’t want to rush to judgment.”
“So what do you think happened to Cronus?” Zack said.
Debbie shook her head. “I know what somebody
wants
us to think. The excessive violence and the stomping on the body suggest gang involvement. We also found a red bandana at the scene.”
“Implicating Red Rage,” Zack said.
“We’re checking out that angle,” Debbie said. “But the placement of that red bandana is a little too convenient. Gang members are proud of their scarves. They go throughthe stomping ceremony to win the right to wear them. I can’t imagine any gang member casually dropping his scarf close to the body of someone he’d just murdered.”
“Rival gangs have been known to battle,” Zack said. “A member of another gang might have ripped off the bandana during a fight and held on to it so he could use it to frame Red Rage later.”
“We’re working on that possibility too,” Debbie said. “The first step is tracing the scarf to a specific member of Red Rage. If there is DNA on the scarf other than Cronus’s, and it matches the DNA of someone we have on file, we’ve scored – at the very least we’ve connected with a person who can supply a lead about what happened to the scarf.”
“Will that person be able to tell you why someone killed Cronus, then placed his body on the hood of his car?” I said. My voice was bleak, and Zack reached out and took my hand.
“I doubt if they’ll volunteer that information,” Debbie said. “I know what you’re getting at, Joanne. This whole gang angle doesn’t ring true. Cronus comes to you and tells you that there’s a plot to abduct a child from the opening of Racette-Hunter. Six hours later he’s murdered and dumped on his car in the parking lot behind the Sahara Club. The first hours of a police investigation are always tricky. We’re jumpy and if we get what we think could be a lead, it’s tempting to drop everything and follow it. This case has a lot of gang markers and we’ll check them out, but the fact that Cronus believed the photo he sent out was enough to thwart the kidnapping plan suggests something larger.”
“I don’t suppose Cronus’s phone has turned up.”
“Only in my dreams,” Debbie said. “So we soldier on. We continue to find out everything we can about the scene, the body, and the victim’s past, and hope we come up with something.”
“So at this point we don’t know anything,” I said.
“That’s right,” Debbie said. “But, Joanne, I promise you we will, and when that happens, I’ll let you know as much as I can.”
As she stood to leave, Zack’s cell rang. He grimaced and mouthed Darryl Colby’s name. Debbie and I left him to it. When she and I exchanged goodbyes, Debbie’s face was soft with concern. “Are you all right?”
“No,” I said. “I’m scared to death.”
Debbie laughed shortly. “That makes two of us,” she said. And then for the first time since I’d known her she embraced me. “We’ll get them,” she whispered and then she was gone.
Zack was still on the phone when I went back into the living room. “Open the windows,” he said. “Darryl’s on his way.”
I sat on the couch and peeled off my pantyhose. Zack watched appreciatively. “Don’t ever do that again unless we can celebrate the moment.”
“No time to celebrate now?”
“No,” Zack said. “Darryl will be here in fifteen minutes.”
“What’s the rush?” I said.
“I have no idea. Darryl just said the matter was urgent.”
“It must be urgent if Darryl’s coming
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