Murder is Forever, Volume 2: Home Sweet Murder ; Murder on the Run by James Patterson

Author:James Patterson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2018-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

“How could Murkowski not have told me about the knives left in the bodies?” Negron fumed as she strode ahead of Mois out of the mortuary lab, her heels clacking angrily down the tile hallway. The steel-gray power suit she happened to put on that morning somehow lent authority to her fury.

“Calm down,” Mois said as he moved to catch up with her. “He probably didn’t know. I wanted to keep a lid on that detail for as long as possible out of respect to the families. And to weed out any crazy false confessions.”

They came to the building exit, and Negron gave the double doors an irritated shove. Outside it was a muggy, overcast spring day. As the two headed toward the parking lot, a heavy roll of thunder sounded in the distance.

“And you weren’t even officially on the case until this morning,” Mois reminded her.

“Didn’t stop you from calling me at eleven last night!” Negron said testily as she fumbled with a file she was carrying. She took a moment to calm herself. “Look, I get all this, Mois. It’s just that the Blanchard case really burned me.”

Stopping in front of her fire-red Mustang, the sergeant pulled out a photo from the file—a color mug shot—and held up it up directly to Mois’s face.

“Feast your eyes,” she said. “Craig Talley. Thirty-six years old. Dark hair. Olive-toned skin.”

Mois took the photograph and let out a slow whistle. “Damn. This guy matches the Dundee killer’s description like he was sent directly from Central Casting. What happened with the case?”

Negron let out a bitter laugh.

“Oh, we arrested him, but the DA—in all her wisdom—refused to file,” she said scornfully. “Plenty of circumstantial evidence but not enough physical. So, the bastard walked.”

The first drops of rain began to fall. One landed directly on the photo Mois was holding, leaving a stream of water running diagonally across Craig Talley’s terse, angry-looking face.

“So, we’re taking this to Chief Wolkoff, right?” Negron asked with a do-not-disappoint-me tone.

An even louder roll of thunder seemed to release the pent-up rain—it came down in a sudden deluge. Negron quickly clicked her car doors open and the two jumped inside.

As the water landed in a heavy drumbeat on the roof of the car, Mois turned to his partner. “Look, I know you’re ready to speed dial Wolkoff with this, but we aren’t there yet.”

“We have a possible serial killer on the loose!” she objected.

“Possible,” Mois noted. “But before we run this any further up, I want to find out more about this Talley. Is he even still in Omaha? What’s the connection to the Hunters? And, by the way, does he fit a pedophile profile?”

Negron hesitated for a moment. The windows of the car were already steaming up—she took a frustrated wipe across the driver’s side glass.

“No. Joy Blanchard was fifty-eight,” she admitted. “But that’s just a theory, anyway.”

“Agreed, but we gotta check things off—one at a time.”

Negron sighed impatiently but nodded in agreement. “You’re right. But Jesus I hope we can nail this Talley guy.

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