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“No, it doesn’t. The head shed came by 45 minutes after shit happened and zapped his key,” Charlie answered.
“I’m gonna go talk to his neighbors,” Antony said. “We need to figure out where he was before the club. Maybe he cleaned before going out.”
Since Thompson lived on one side of Smith, Antony knocked on the other door. A young woman answered. She was pale, and her eyes darted around the area.
Antony showed her his credentials, but her unease didn’t wane. Curious.
“I’d like to ask you some questions about SPC Smith,” he began.
“I don’t know what I could possibly tell you, Sir,” the woman answered. She fidgeted with a bracelet and wouldn’t make direct eye contact. “I haven’t been here long.”
The fine hairs on the back of his neck prickled. Everything about her body language screamed at him without making a sound. “All I need to know is if you saw him in the last 24 hours,” he said, softening his voice just a little to put her at ease.
“I saw him when we were leaving work. That’s all,” she said. Her eyes flashed toward him, and Antony saw abject fear.
“Okay. Thank you,” he said, backing down. She had information, but she was too terrified to speak. “If you think of anything,” he said, pulling a card out of his wallet, “Call any of those numbers.”
She took the card with trembling fingers and all but slammed the door in his face. He jotted down the name on the doorplate. As was putting his wallet away, Charlie called out, “Ramos!”
Antony trotted back in to find Charlie in the bathroom. The cover from the toilet tank rested on the lid. In her blue gloved hands was a brick-sized package, dripping on the floor.
He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak, but his phone rang. He frowned as he looked at it. “Hello?” As he listened, he held open an evidence bag so Charlie could put the package in it. “Okay. Right, I got it. Will do. Thanks for the info.”
Charlie gave him a questioning look, and her eyes flicked over his shoulder. Antony turned as Randall walked in.
“What’s going on?” Randall asked.
Charlie held up the evidence bag she had just zipped closed. “Found this in the toilet tank.”
“Good thing these knuckleheads never realize we always look there.”
“Unless it was a plant,” Antony said. “Bathroom was nowhere near as clean as the room.”
“Okay. Unless it was a plant. You light the place up yet?”
“About to set it up now.” He and Charlie moved around the room, closing doors, and shutting off lights.
“What was the phone call about?”
Antony paused for a moment, then shook his head. “Vicky started threatening to kill herself while they were trying to book her. Guess she found something sharp in the cell and was cutting her arms. They’ve put her in psych hold.”
“At least she’ll be out of your way for a while.”
Antony laughed. “Can always count on you to put things in perspective.”
“So, what you need to do now,” Randall said, stepping into the room and grabbing one of the light wands, “is set up your favorite contacts on your phone. Then put it on Do Not Disturb.”
“But what about outside calls?”
“Don’t worry about them right now. If it’s that important, they’ll leave a message or call one of us. Anyway, set all of that up and save everything off if she starts up again once she’s released.”
“No if about it. She’s not the type to give up.”
“Sucks to be her,” Charlie said. “Give me the bottle and get out of the way, would you?”
Randall pointed toward the door. “Go to the hospital, Ramos. I’ll handle this with Madden. Check in by COB and let us know what’s doing.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
