Hard Press'd by Linda Rae Blair

Author:Linda Rae Blair [Blair, Linda Rae]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781453743706
Publisher: Linda Rae Blair
Published: 2010-12-16T04:30:00+00:00

18

Virginia Beach

Day 2

7:30 AM

He awoke alone, staring at the vaulted ceiling above his king-sized bed, and heard the sound of waves lapping against the shore. Nothing gave him a better night’s sleep than leaving the windows open to the sounds of the ocean. Without them, he knew he never would have drifted off last night.

Climbing out of the bed, he put on the robe he’d left on the chair the night before and reached for the bedroom door. He went down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. The house was quiet. She’s gone—really gone now.

Upstairs again he took a quick shower, dressed in a lightweight suit. Then he slowly moved back downstairs to get more coffee. Lizzie already had another pot brewing; Perkins and Jones were on their morning romp.

He poured a cup, added cream, grabbed a bagel and toasted it. A little cream cheese and quick gulps of hot brew, and he was ready to face the day. At least I don’t have to face that damned car, he laughed to himself.

He eased off Laskin onto the 264 and headed downtown to HQ. The car was running like a top. He wondered what Dipshit would pull next?

As he entered the office, he found Trace already sitting at his desk pouring over his computer. He sat down at his desk just in time for Lieutenant Wallace to reach him.

“Andrews.”

“Sir.”

Lieutenant Wallace was an aging cop to whom the years had not been particularly kind. Average in height, he was less than average in weight. His hair had more yellowed than grayed, there were bags under his light brown eyes, and the scar on his cheek was a constant reminder of his time as guard for the holding tank early in his career. He always reminded Press of a caricature of a bloodhound—a much beloved bloodhound.

Today’s tan suit was wrinkled—it was rumored Mrs. Wallace had moved out a month or so ago—and he looked like he hadn’t been sleeping well. Despite his appearance, Bill Wallace was now and always had been a damned good cop and he was well-respected by his men.

Wallace held out his hand. “The ADA dropped this off this morning. Search Warrant for the Roberts residence, the victim’s computer—the entire contents of her room. Family spaces are out. That should suffice for now.”

“Yes, sir. That should do it. We’ll head out right away.” He remembered thinking someone was pulling strings. Here it was again. They had yet to try to convince a judge that a warrant for the victim’s home was necessary—yet, here was a warrant—signed, sealed and delivered.

Trace and Press immediately left for the Roberts home. There had to be a reason why Moira Roberts had been so hesitant to let them check out the girl’s room. He just hoped that whatever that reason was, it wasn’t gone by now.

* * *

Moira Roberts had not been happy about having to admit them for the search. She had adamantly told them that Mr. Roberts would be even less so.

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