Page 10 of Daybreak

Gunner and Cliff were back in the department, writing up their reports on the hanging-man case, when Gunner got a phone call from another division of the Dallas PD.

“Homicide, this is Kingston,” he said.

“Detective, this is Officer Waters in Traffic division. We’re working a hit and run, and have a victim here who had your card in his pocket, along with a hundred dollars. Does that ring a bell?”

Gunner’s heart sank. “Does he have long gray hair and a beard?”

“Yes. Do you know who it is?” the officer asked.

“If it’s who I think it is, his name is Dan Helford. Where are you taking him?”

“The morgue. If you’d be willing to make a positive ID, it would be helpful. I know it’s late, but they’re loading up the body now. I’ll tell the medical examiner you’re coming to make an ID.”

Gunner hung up, looked across the desk at his partner without speaking, then got up and walked into Lieutenant Samuels’s office.

“I have to go down to the morgue to ID a body,” he said.

Samuels looked up, saw the expression on Gunner’s face, and frowned. “I hope it’s none of your family.”

“No, sir. I think it’s the old homeless man who found Freddie Welsh’s body. The one we brought in this morning to get his statement.”

Samuels frowned. “Well damn, what happened, and why did they call you for the ID?”

“Hit and run. I gave him my card when I dropped him off at the shelter. They found it on his body.”

“Take Cliff with you,” Samuels said.

“I’d rather not. I’ll be back,” Gunner said and walked out.

Samuels frowned, got up from his desk, and walked out of his office, eyeing Gunner as he grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair.

Cliff started to get up. “What’s up. Where are we going?”

“I’ve got this,” Gunner said and kept walking.

Cliff glanced at the boss. “Is everything okay?”

Samuels frowned. “You tell me.”

Cliff shrugged.

Samuels turned around, walked back into his office, and shut the door.

* * *

Gunner hated the morgue. Hated going into it. Hated seeing the bodies in varying stages of being autopsied. Hated the smells and the fact that it always made him want to cry. Grown men aren’t supposed to cry. Gunner had taken that to heart at an early age.

* * *

Dr. Delores Paige, the medical examiner, was at her desk when the detective arrived. She’d met him before, but she couldn’t really claim that she knew him. She just knew the stories and the reputation, and she could tell by the look on Kingston’s face that he was bothered by this call.

“Hey, Doc, I’m here to ID a body,” Gunner said.

Doctor Paige got up from her desk. “Yes, and thank you for coming, detective. Follow me.”

Gunner followed her into the autopsy room and stood aside while the coroner pulled out a drawer and lifted the sheet from the deceased man’s face.

“Damn it,” Gunner muttered, unaware he’d said it aloud, and then nodded. “Yes, that’s Dan Helford. His street name was Yankee Dan. Once you do the autopsy, I want a copy of the findings. If there’s any way of knowing if this was intentional or an accident, I’d appreciate the heads-up.”