Дэвид Балдаччи - The Fallen

Decker said, “The point is, there won’t be many people able to help us with what happened at that house.”

Green said, “There are only three houses on that street with people living in them. I spoke to one and Donna spoke to another, but they didn’t see or hear anything. And prior to last night they had seen no activity at the house in question.”

“Nothing?” said Decker.

“According to them, no,” replied Green.

“Any reason to believe any of them might have been involved?” asked Jamison.

Lassiter answered. “Alice Martin is an elderly woman who’s lived her whole life in Baronville. I actually know her because she was my Sunday school teacher. The second home is owned by an old man in a wheelchair named Fred Ross. The last house is the closest to the crime scene, but the man who lives there, Dan Bond, is blind. I spoke to Bond, and my partner talked to Mrs. Martin. I think we can safely rule out each of them as possible suspects.”

Decker turned around to look at her again. “Why is that?”

Lassiter blinked. “Don’t you think it’s obvious?”

Decker glanced at Green. “There are some things about a murder investigation that are obvious. Ruling out someone as a suspect after one contact or an assumption is not one of them.”

Decker could see Lassiter’s face flush and her features turn ugly, but he plowed ahead.

He added, “So, Dan Bond and Alice Martin have been interviewed. Why haven’t you talked to Fred Ross yet?”

Green said, “He wasn’t home at the time. We’re going to check with him, though.”

“Any idea how one of your uniforms got on the dead guy?” asked Decker.

“None. All uniforms are accounted for, as far as we can tell.”

“So maybe the source of the uniforms?” said Jamison.

“We’re checking all that,” interjected Lassiter, who looked like she was barely containing her anger. “We didn’t just fall off a truck, you know.”

Decker ignored this and pointed to a spot on the shoulder of the man found in the basement. “What’s that?”

The ME said, “I noted that in my report. Maybe something was placed there and then removed.”

“Any ideas?”

“Could be any number of things. Pain patch for one. Nicotine patch for another.”

“Was he a smoker?” asked Jamison.

“His lungs showed some damage from smoking, yes. I’m estimating that he wasn’t yet forty, so if he had stopped smoking his lungs most likely would have been able to regenerate.”

“Guess it doesn’t matter now,” said Green.

The ME said, “The tox screens should show what was in it, if it was a medication patch. If the drugs are still in the body, that is. If the patch was taken off too long ago, the meds might have worked through his system.”

Decker eyed the man closely and said, “So, the big question: Have you got a time-of-death determination yet?”

The ME said, “When I got to the house limbs were stiff on both, so they were in rigor. I’d say they’d been dead about twenty hours or so, or even far longer, since they might have actually been coming out of rigor at that point. I’ll know better later.”

“Did you take a core temp?”

The ME said in an annoyed tone, “Something went wrong with my equipment. It was registering wacky numbers.”

“Meaning really, really cold?”

The man looked surprised. “Yes, how did you know that?”

“So even without a core temp, twenty hours or even far longer is your final verdict? You sure about that?”

The ME looked indignant that Decker seemed to be challenging his conclusion. He said stiffly, “Yes, I am. Well, that they were dead at least twenty hours. Why?”

“And are you sure the bodies weren’t moved after they died?”

The ME shot a look at the corpses and then glanced back at Decker.

“Yeah, I mean, I’m pretty sure, why?”

“I think you might want to take some additional forensics classes beyond the minimum or maybe better yet, try another line of work that doesn’t involve performing postmortems.”

The man said furiously, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I thought I was pretty clear.” Decker turned to Green. “So, are we good to go on this investigation? Working it together?”

Green looked at him curiously for a moment and said, “You have to keep us looped in on everything . No exceptions.”

“Agreed,” said Decker quickly.

“From a practical point of view, how do you want to do this?” asked Green.

“There’s a lot of ground to cover, so I say two and two,” replied Decker. “That way we can each hit a crime scene.”

Lassiter interjected, “Good, I’ll go with you and your partner can go with Marty.”

Jamison looked surprised by this. “Why? You have your team and we have ours.”

“Because that way we’ll be apprised and up to date on both sets of investigations,” said Lassiter. “There won’t have to be any long, drawn-out reports or multiple explanations. Saves everyone time and trouble.”

“Works for me,” said Decker distractedly, which drew a quick glare from Jamison.

As they were leaving the morgue, Jamison drew Lassiter aside.

“Just FYI, my partner is a little difficult to work with.”

“Trust me, I’d spotted that myself,” replied Lassiter.

“No, I’m not sure you have the full picture.”

“Well, Marty’s no peach to partner with either. But we’re girls in guys’ territory, right? We learn how to deal with it.”

This unexpected comment drew a smile from Jamison. “I think that’s the first thing you’ve said I agree with.”

“Let’s hope there’s more in the future.”

Crime scene number Two .

At least that was how Decker had designated it in his mind.

It had been an auto repair facility. An unexpected place for a murder. But then again, most everything about a murder was unexpected.

He and Lassiter climbed out of her car, a pale blue four-door Prius with limited legroom, at least for someone as tall as Decker. It was her personal ride. The department didn’t have money in the budget for cars for their detectives, she’d told him on the drive over.

Decker said, “FYI, I saw at least six drug deals going down on the way here.”

“Seven,” replied Lassiter. “You might have missed the soccer mom with the little girl in the rear seat. Mom was getting her pop from the dude at the last traffic light before she dropped her kid off at daycare.”

“And you drove right past?” said Decker.

“If I stopped every drug deal I saw, I wouldn’t have the time to eat, sleep, or use the bathroom. I happen to know the woman. She won’t take the pop now. She’ll do it later, at home, when her hubby is there. He’ll take care of her and the girl.”

“What’s the drug of choice around here?”

“Used to be OxyContin and then fentanyl. Now it’s heroin even though fentanyl is far more potent.”

“Must be impacting your crime rate.”

“People burglarize their neighbor’s house so they can sell the stuff for cash to service their addiction. Or a son embezzles his mom’s bank account to do the same. Or a granny steals from her granddaughter’s piggy bank. It’s seriously demented stuff and happens every day.”

“And heroin is popular because you get a gram of it for about fifty bucks and it’ll last you a lot longer than fentanyl, or OxyContin, which runs about, what, eighty bucks a pill on the street?”

“Hell, you don’t have to buy it on the street anymore. They’ll deliver it right to your house, like pizza. Or they get it from pharmacies or the local Boy Scout troop leader. Or it comes down one of the drug pipelines around here. They crush and snort it, inject it. They even chew on fentanyl patches instead of putting them on their skin to get the pop.”