reached over and stroked the girl’s hair as though she were one of her younger sisters. “You’re crying because you’re a good person, kiddo, and it hurts to see something like that.”
“I guess you guys get used to it,” she said, hiccupping, “but that’s the first time I’ve ever seen anything like that.”
Dirk looked down and brushed some dirt off the knee of his jeans. “We don’t get used to it either,” he said quietly, “if that makes you feel any better.”
He waited while Angie blew her nose and composed herself, then he said, “Do you feel up to telling me what happened?”
“I already told the policeman, the one who got here first and helped me with the lady.”
“I know. I’m sorry, but if you could go over it again, I’d really appreciate it.”
As the teenager began to relate the details of her experience, Savannah noticed a crowd of spectators beginning to form at the periphery of the scene. Leaving Dirk to question his witness, she walked slowly along the edge of the group, studying each face. Many times, the perpetrator of a crime returned to the scene and watched the aftermath unfold, mentally wallowing in the carnage he had created. Savannah had learned, long ago, to search the spectators for suspects.
One young man in particular caught her attention. He was a young, blond fellow, about Angie’s age, wearing a football letterman’s jacket and a guilty-as-hell look on his handsome face. He was staying well to the back of the crowd, his eyes trained on the patrol car where Dirk was questioning Angie.
As Savannah approached him, she decided to take a verbal stab in the dark and see if she could draw a little blood. She smelled the booze on his breath as she leaned close to him and said, “Your girlfriend’s doing her duty as a citizen. Why don’t you be a man and go do the same?”
“What?” He turned to Savannah and glared at her with as much concentrated focus as his bleary vision would allow.
She decided his confusion was as fake as a five-dollar alligator-skin purse.
“You heard me,” she said, “and you know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re Angie Perez’s boyfriend, the one who called this in. At least tell them what you saw.”
He glanced around furtively and lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “Get away from me, lady. I didn’t see anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Savannah shrugged. “Have it your way,” she said. “But if that detective who’s talking to Angie has to come to you rather than vice versa, he’s not gonna be his usual charming self.”
She left the unhappy teenager and began to walk along the edge of the crowd, snapping pictures with her phone. Methodically, she worked from one end of the group to the other. Dirk would comb them later, identifying as many individuals as possible.
“Hey, Reid! What the hell are you doing here?” said a male voice with an irritating, nasal twang directly into her right ear.
Savannah braced herself and turned to face the one human being she despised most in the world. As far as she was concerned, Captain Harvey Bloss had worked hard to ascend to that high-level position. Considering how many degenerates she knew, he’d had a lot of competition.
“What am I doing? What do you suppose I’m doin’, sugar?” she said, far too sweetly. “I’m gawking, like everybody else. Fortunately there’s no law against that.”
Bloss gave her a drop-dead look that matched her own degree of animosity. “Get out of here, Reid,” he said with a long, liquid snort that made Savannah shudder. “You’ve got no business hanging around a crime scene.”
Bloss wasn’t a particularly attractive man, even without the disgusting mannerisms. He wasn’t overweight, but he had a pudgy, bloated look about him that indicated, perhaps, a lack of sleep and excessive alcohol consumption. He peered at the world through squinted, suspicious little eyes, and the only time he actually made
“I guess you guys get used to it,” she said, hiccupping, “but that’s the first time I’ve ever seen anything like that.”
Dirk looked down and brushed some dirt off the knee of his jeans. “We don’t get used to it either,” he said quietly, “if that makes you feel any better.”
He waited while Angie blew her nose and composed herself, then he said, “Do you feel up to telling me what happened?”
“I already told the policeman, the one who got here first and helped me with the lady.”
“I know. I’m sorry, but if you could go over it again, I’d really appreciate it.”
As the teenager began to relate the details of her experience, Savannah noticed a crowd of spectators beginning to form at the periphery of the scene. Leaving Dirk to question his witness, she walked slowly along the edge of the group, studying each face. Many times, the perpetrator of a crime returned to the scene and watched the aftermath unfold, mentally wallowing in the carnage he had created. Savannah had learned, long ago, to search the spectators for suspects.
One young man in particular caught her attention. He was a young, blond fellow, about Angie’s age, wearing a football letterman’s jacket and a guilty-as-hell look on his handsome face. He was staying well to the back of the crowd, his eyes trained on the patrol car where Dirk was questioning Angie.
As Savannah approached him, she decided to take a verbal stab in the dark and see if she could draw a little blood. She smelled the booze on his breath as she leaned close to him and said, “Your girlfriend’s doing her duty as a citizen. Why don’t you be a man and go do the same?”
“What?” He turned to Savannah and glared at her with as much concentrated focus as his bleary vision would allow.
She decided his confusion was as fake as a five-dollar alligator-skin purse.
“You heard me,” she said, “and you know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re Angie Perez’s boyfriend, the one who called this in. At least tell them what you saw.”
He glanced around furtively and lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “Get away from me, lady. I didn’t see anything. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Savannah shrugged. “Have it your way,” she said. “But if that detective who’s talking to Angie has to come to you rather than vice versa, he’s not gonna be his usual charming self.”
She left the unhappy teenager and began to walk along the edge of the crowd, snapping pictures with her phone. Methodically, she worked from one end of the group to the other. Dirk would comb them later, identifying as many individuals as possible.
“Hey, Reid! What the hell are you doing here?” said a male voice with an irritating, nasal twang directly into her right ear.
Savannah braced herself and turned to face the one human being she despised most in the world. As far as she was concerned, Captain Harvey Bloss had worked hard to ascend to that high-level position. Considering how many degenerates she knew, he’d had a lot of competition.
“What am I doing? What do you suppose I’m doin’, sugar?” she said, far too sweetly. “I’m gawking, like everybody else. Fortunately there’s no law against that.”
Bloss gave her a drop-dead look that matched her own degree of animosity. “Get out of here, Reid,” he said with a long, liquid snort that made Savannah shudder. “You’ve got no business hanging around a crime scene.”
Bloss wasn’t a particularly attractive man, even without the disgusting mannerisms. He wasn’t overweight, but he had a pudgy, bloated look about him that indicated, perhaps, a lack of sleep and excessive alcohol consumption. He peered at the world through squinted, suspicious little eyes, and the only time he actually made
Similar Books
