Stuart Kaminsky - Blood On The Sun

The list wasn't long. Attempted murder. Breaking and entering. Threatening the life of a police officer.

But Stella decided she wasn't going to press charges. Melvoy would walk out of the hospital a hero who had helped the police track down a murderer and prevent another killing.

"No more talk for now," Stella said, seeing the pain in his eyes.

"One thing," he whispered.

"Yes?"

"Why are you spending this time with me?"

"I like you," she said.

"Mutual," he managed with a smile.

Stella smiled back.

"Got to go," she said.

He nodded.

She had the number of Joshua's room. When she was outside of Joshua's room minutes later, she heard a familiar voice beyond the door, which was when she had called Flack.

Both Aiden and Danny had spent the better part of two morning hours making calls. Both eventually succeeded, but they weren't sure what their success meant.

Aiden made a call and arranged to meet Stella and Flack at a deli near the lab. Aiden gathered her information and headed for the door.

Danny went to Mac's office, file under his arm. He knocked and walked in. Mac was hunched over photographs of Jacob Vorhees taken in the hospital. He held up one photo toward Danny and said, "What do you see?"

Danny took the photo. Mac saw that the tremor was gone. The boy was sitting up, arms out, covered with deep, red bug bites. He was sitting with his legs straight out, bottoms of his feet facing the camera.

Danny handed the photo back to Mac, who waited for an answer.

"Bottoms of the feet," said Danny.

Mac nodded his agreement.

"He said he walked more than a mile through woods and yards," said Danny. "There's not a scratch or bruise on his feet."

"He lied," said Mac.

"You know why?"

"Maybe."

The computer on his desk indicated that a message was coming in. The name and number of the caller appeared on the telephone's screen.

Mac nodded for Danny to join him behind the desk.

"Kyle Shelton's parents live in California," said Mac. "He had a sister who died when she was twelve. I called Shelton's parents and left a message asking them to call back."

Mac pushed a button and put the call on speakerphone.

"Is this Detective Taylor?" a woman asked.

"Yes, ma'am," said Mac. "Could you tell me the names of any friends your son might have in New York?"

"Why?" asked Shelton's mother on the phone with concern.

"We're looking for him," Mac had said. "He's missing. We don't believe anything has happened to him."

"Lord God I hope you're right," she said. "Haven't heard from him in months. You'll let us know when you find him?"

"Yes," Mac had said. "His friends?"

"Not many," she said with a sigh. "He was a lonely boy, studious, paid his own way through college. Always gentle. And then he volunteered for Iraq. He didn't discuss it with us. When he came back, he had changed. He wasn't a boy anymore. He was a man, a man with great dignity and pain. He didn't smile anymore."

"Yes, ma'am," Mac said.

"Kyle's friends in New York," she said. "Well, if there were girls, he never said. In college he roomed with a nice boy, Scott Shuman. They were good friends. I think Scott's still in New York."

The information confirmed what Mac had already learned from the university. Kyle Shelton had roomed with Scott Shuman all through college, first two years in a dorm, last two in an apartment.

Danny had moved to the computer. On the screen was information on Shuman, including his address, phone number and place of employment.

"You'll call or have Kyle call?" the woman said.

"I will," said Mac. "Thank you."

He pushed a button, turning off the phone.

"You've got something?" Mac said.

While the information on Shuman was being printed, Danny handed the file he had brought to Mac, who read slowly and carefully.

Howard Vorhees had an arrest record, not in New York, but in Seattle, Minneapolis and Nashville. All of the arrests, which took place in the last five years, were for sexual advances to underage girls. All of the girls had been frightened, but hadn't been touched. The police had questioned Vorhees and then let him go with a warning. Soon after each reported sexual advance, the Vorhees family had moved to another city. They had only been in New York for two years.

"Probably more that didn't report him," said Danny.

Mac nodded.

"Want me to check?"

"No," said Mac.

"Wife also has two DUIs," Danny said. "Nothing on the daughter or the boy."

Mac nodded.

Danny knew better than to ask what this information meant, if anything, for their case. Mac would turn the question back on Danny.

Mac got up to go to Sheldon Hawkes' lab. Over his shoulder, he said to Danny, "Let's go get some answers."

Aiden drank green tea. The antioxidants were good for you. Problem was she didn't much like green tea, or any tea for that matter.

Flack was eating a fried egg sandwich with a slice of tomato and Stella had a large orange juice.

"Here it is," Aiden said, handing the file in her hand to Stella. "Want a summary?

"Item," Aiden said. "Asher Glick and Arvin Bloom were in grade school together. May mean nothing.

"Item," she went on, "Arvin Bloom died of brain cancer when he was ten years old. Death records show it."

"Different Arvin Bloom?" asked Flack.

"No," said Aiden. "Childhood address Bloom gave us in Hartford is the same as the one on the death certificate."

"We've got to prove it," said Stella," and even if we do, it doesn't prove he killed anyone. Just stole their identity."

"Look at the photocopy of the birth information," said Aiden.

Stella found it. There were two tiny clear footprints.

"So we get prints of the bottom of Bloom's feet and compare them," said Stella.

"Keep going through the folder," said Aiden.

Stella turned over pages as Flack looked over his shoulder. They came to a photograph of a footprint.

"Life size," said Aiden. "Ten and a half. I lifted the print from Bloom's bathroom floor. He was barefoot the last time we searched the shop."

"They don't match," said Stella, "even taking into account the fifty year difference in the ages of these two people." She knew Aiden had examined both prints under a microscope.

"He's going to claim the prints you found in the bathroom aren't his," said Aiden.

"Then we'll ask him nicely for new prints," said Aiden. "And if nicely doesn't work, we get another warrant."

"What else?" asked Stella.

"Had the small splinters of wood on Glick's jacket compared with the sawdust I got from Bloom's shop. Both bloodwood. Tannic acid levels are exact. Magnesium levels are the same. Even the arsenic levels are the same."

"He can talk his way around that," said Flack. "Claim he hugged Glick or something."

Aiden smiled and said, "Then we have the tote bag Joshua got behind the statue of Jesus in the church. Small specks of wood along the bag's inner lining."

"Bloodwood," said Stella.

"And it matches the other two samples. That bag was in Bloom's shop."

"Motive?" asked Flack.

Aiden nodded toward the folder on the table. Stella flipped through it to five sheets clipped together.

"Summary," said Aiden. "If this guy's our killer it wasn't because of the $40,000 he owed Glick. He has more than eighty thousand in his personal account, about the same amount in his business account and an investment portfolio worth at least $2 million."

"Who the hell is this guy?" said Flack.

"And did he murder two people?" said Stella. "And why?"

Kyle Shelton had been sitting at the window of Scott Shuman's apartment, watching the street. People were moving quickly in spite of the late-morning heat, the New York march.