AllFreeNovel
Share Us
There were a half-dozen footprints, but much of the site was hard-packed clay and gravel and grass, none of which yielded any impressions.
He dropped off what he’d collected at the bus and proceeded to the Lexus.
And what will you have for Mr. Locard and me?
The interior contained the typical: an empty coffee cup, two water bottles, DMV and insurance documents. The vehicle was only a month old. There was paperwork in the door and center console. Car stuff mostly. No more toll receipts nowadays. That information, often helpful, was available with a warrant only, from the bridge, tunnel, and toll road authorities.
He found several restaurant receipts, some recent, though none from this morning.
He lifted soil samples from the carpet, passenger seat and backseats, latents from the wheel, touchpad screen, other controls and surfaces, and door handles, both sides.
In the trunk was a laptop. He bagged this too.
Finally, a search of the seats. Under them, of course, but alsointhem: a place that no evidence-collecting book—even Lincoln Rhyme’s—suggested searching. But Pulaski patted down the supple leather, as if frisking a suspicious-looking gangbanger for drugs or weapons.
And here he found it, behind a slit cut into the side of the driver’s-side backseat.
Something that put Andy Gilligan’s murder in a whole new light.
18.
A LOT OFpeople had second phones—the providers courteously offered great deals to suck you in—but Gilligan’s was a burner.
You could tell because it was a brand name, but an older model—three years out-of-date, yet in good shape, no scuffs or chips. Payas-you-go companies bought up inventories of older phones like this, selling them to a diverse crowd: those with limited means, teenagers learning how to budget and … to murderers and drug dealers.
As he placed it in the evidence bag, Pulaski was reflecting that a cop could certainly have a burner for legitimate reasons. So he could talk to CIs or suspects and not give away his personal number. Maybe Gilligan did some undercover work.
But why hide it so carefully?
If he was worried about it being stolen, there was the trunk or the glove compartment.
So Pulaski seized on the idea that Gilligan was involved in something illegal and the phone was one he used to communicate with a partner, Mr. X.
Think, he told himself.
Had he come here to meet that person, who had ambushed him?
Pulaski looked at it logically. Gilligan had died facing the shooter. If it was a stranger coming at him in a random attack, the detective would at least have reached for his own gun. But, based on his posture in death, that hadn’t happened.
So then, assume theywerepartners and met here for some reason. Think! Speculate!
Bold …
He walked to the street and examined the asphalt in front of and behind the Lexus. No recent tire prints. Maybe Mr. X had parked some distance away.
He walked to Sanchez. “I think they knew each other. Gilligan and the shooter.”
“Really?”
“Think so. I need to know where the perp parked. Not near the Lexus, but let’s check along here. Could you clear the street?”
“Sure. I’ll back everybody out.” Sanchez called to the officers on-site and gave the order.
One young woman officer said to Pulaski, “Sir, you want me to ribbon the whole place?”
Sir?They were the same age.
“Yeah, thanks.”
