Kill for Me Kill for You by Steve Cavanagh

Author:Steve Cavanagh
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Mystery, American Suspense, Contemporary, Crime, Psychological Suspense, Domestic Thriller, Suspense, Adult, Thriller
ISBN: 9781035408177
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2023-07-20T04:00:00+00:00

28

Farrow

By the time their NYPD pool car pulled up at the brownstone, the forensics technicians were packing up their equipment at the rear door of their van.

Hernandez killed the engine and got out of the Crown Vic at the same time as Farrow. Even though his feet touched the blacktop in concert with Hernandez, it took Farrow a lot longer to straighten up. His lower lumbar disc problem that had been steadily getting worse was now almost unmanageable. There were good days and bad days. Of late, mostly bad days. He waited until the pain passed. His first movements were slow, but he knew he would loosen up when he started to move around.

Karen Hernandez was already yammering with the forensics tech by the time Farrow took his first step onto the sidewalk. A black-and-white and another unmarked squad car were parked along the curb outside the house. Silently, the flashing berries and cherries from the top of the patrol car sent blue and red light around the street. There was no ambulance, and no sign of the medical examiner yet. At any murder scene in New York, the medical examiner was the one who arrived in the most expensive car. Mercedes or BMW, sometimes an Audi.

With no expensive German engineering in sight, Farrow thought it likely he’d beaten the ME to the punch. He took another couple of steps and felt the burning in his back just as a mild distraction, and the pain in his right leg had gone. The longer he stood, the easier it would get.

He heard heavy metallic doors slam, and saw the forensic techs making their way to the front of the vehicle, the rear doors now closed. Hernandez came back to give him an update.

‘Who was the tech on scene?’ asked Farrow.

‘Belucci,’ said Hernandez.

‘Good. He’s thorough. Did they get anything?’

‘Not much, by the looks of things. We won’t know until they get lab results back.’

‘I won’t get my hopes up. Let’s go inside.’

There was a patrolman in uniform standing at the front door of the brownstone with a clipboard in his hand. Hernandez and Farrow ducked under the tape, made their way up the steps and showed their ID to the officer. He entered their names in the scene log and said, ‘Statler and Waldorf are out back.’

Hernandez rolled her eyes, and the patrolman stifled a smile.

Farrow and Hernandez entered the home. A neat hallway, with a shoe rack and an umbrella stand. There was only a pair of boots and a pair of sneakers on the rack. Both pairs belonged to a male they guessed, by their size and color.

They passed by a lounge on the right. A TV sat silently in front of a leather couch. On the left they found a kitchen diner. A row of copper pots and pans hung from a ceiling fixture above a kitchen island with a built-in hob. It looked like an expensive kitchen, with double ovens and lots of cupboard space and a wall taken up with shelves of cookbooks.

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