Faye Kellerman - Walking Shadows

GREENBURY IN JUNEwas a month of seesaw weather from cool to warm and muggy and back to cool again. The Five Colleges of Upstate had just started summer sessions, and there was life on the streets. Graduation had been a couple of weeks ago and every inn and B and B had been booked, meaning that lots of seniors on Social Security had rented out a room for a little extra cash. Neither Decker nor his wife, Rina, wanted strangers paddling around the house in a bathrobe and slippers. Paddling was strictly his domain.

He had dashed out of the house earlier than usual. When he did that, he often came home for a morning coffee break, especially if Rina wasn’t working. Today he went home and found her out in the garden planting pots of mums, delphiniums, sunflowers, and gladioli bulbs that would make up her cutting garden. Next week would be the vegetables.

She looked up and then got up, brushing dirt off her denim skirt. Rina was five five and slim. She was now in her fifties. Life had softened her once angular face and features. She had small wavy lines on her forehead and laugh lines around her radiant jewel-blue eyes. Her hair was still thick and, for the most part, it was still dark. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Decker answered. “Time for a cup of coffee?”

“Sure. Everything okay?”

“Fine. Why do you ask?”

“You look like something unexpected happened and you’re waiting for the right moment to tell me.”

“Found a body. Male. Young. Don’t know who it is.”

“Ugh! The handiwork of the boys from Hamilton?”

“Don’t know. Am I interrupting you?”

“I’ve got all day. Let’s go inside. You can make the coffee while I wash up.”

Once seated with a caffeine fix a sip away, Decker described the scene in detail.

Rina said, “If the victim caught the boys vandalizing the mailboxes, don’t you think that murder would be an extreme reaction?”

“I’ve seen odder things.”

“Yes, but more likely, they’d just take off. And if they murdered the victim first, why bother knocking down the mailboxes afterward?”

“I don’t know who the victim is. I’m just wondering if it’s one of the boys, in which case I’d need to talk to the others anyway—” His cell rang. He glanced at it as he extracted it from his pocket. “It’s Tyler.”

“Go take it.”

“Thanks.” He walked into the living room and depressed the button. “Yo.”

“We’ve got a wallet and a driver’s license. Brady Neil. Twenty-six, five eight, one hundred fifty-five pounds.”

“A little guy.”

“Everyone to you is a little guy.”

“Address?”

“It’s in Hamilton.” McAdams gave him the street and the numbers.

“Okay. Does the face look like the picture on the license?”

“Do you ever look like your picture on your driver’s license?”

“McAdams—”

“His face was distorted by the blow, but it’s him. I’ll take a picture of his face and of the license and text them both to you.”

“Good. If there are parents in the picture, they can ID him from pictures. Save them a trip to the morgue. What did the coroner say about the time and cause of death?”

“Last night around blah to blah.”

“That specific, huh. What about the cause? Anything other than what I saw with the naked eye?”

“His skull was bashed in, but she wouldn’t commit to a cause until she’s done an autopsy.”

“Who is she?”

“Fiona Baldwin. Do you know her?”

“No.”

“That makes two of us. Let me text you those pictures. I can’t do it and talk at the same time.”

McAdams hung up. A moment later, Radar had buzzed in.

“Where are you?”

“Home having a cup of coffee before I head out to the scene.”

“Come to the station house. We need to talk.”

“This doesn’t sound good.”

“See you in five.” Radar hung up.

Decker sighed, came back into the kitchen. “The captain wants to talk.”

“About what?”

“Probably about me not getting what I asked for.”

“Permission to round up the boys and look at their files?”

“On the money.”

“Well, there are plenty of cats in trees and little old ladies and gents crossing streets to keep you busy.” When Decker bit his lip, Rina stood up and kissed him. “Radar is a good guy. If he doesn’t want to confront Hamilton, I’m sure he has a good reason. Go. I’ll see you tonight. Or maybe I won’t if you get what you want for this case. Either way, it’s a win-win for you.”

“VICTOR BACCUS ISa reasonable guy,” Radar told Decker. “I think he’s more than happy to have an experienced homicide detective take over.”

Decker paused. “Obviously you could have told me that over the phone. What’s the catch?”

“He has a daughter on the force—”

“No way. I’m not babysitting someone until I know what’s going on.”

“She was with Philadelphia PD for five years, two of them as a detective.”

Decker made a face. “She goes from a major city to Hamilton? She screwed up something.”

“Well, she’s coming over, so you can ask her yourself.”

“Mike!”

“Look, Baccus is a good man, Pete. His wife has been sick for a while, so maybe that’s why the daughter came back. Don’t prejudge until you know what’s going on.”

“It sounds like I don’t have any choice.”

“You don’t if you want the case.”

Decker’s phone rang. “It’s McAdams.”

“Take it.”

Decker said, “What’s going on?”

“Put it on speaker,” Radar said.

Decker complied. “Go ahead, Tyler. Captain is listening.”

“Hi, sir.”

“Good morning, Tyler,” Radar said. “I know you found a wallet. Brady Neil. He’s twenty-six and lives in Hamilton.”

“Do you know him, boss?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Do we know if the kid has a record?”

Decker said, “We do, and he doesn’t. But I still want to talk to those boys.”

“Are we getting cooperation with Hamilton?” McAdams asked.

“This is the deal,” Radar said. “Chief Baccus wants full cooperation between the two police departments. No one has any problem with that. But Baccus wants us working with his daughter, Lenora: Lennie Baccus. She’s twenty-seven and was with Philadelphia PD for five years, including two as a detective, where she broke a very sophisticated GTA ring.”

Decker said, “What GTA ring was that?”

“I don’t know,” Radar answered. “If you and McAdams take her on, it will definitely grease the skids. And you both know that the murder could have happened in Hamilton and the dump was here. If they find a crime scene, it isn’t going to be our case anyway.”

“Sounds reasonable,” McAdams said. “We have an address from his license.”

“I’ve already looked it up. It seems that Brady lives—or lived—with his mother,” Decker said. “I’ll do the death notification after I’m done talking to this person.”

“Officer Baccus, Decker.”

“Officer Baccus, excuse me.” Decker took the phone off speaker.

McAdams said, “What do you need from me?”

“You can stay at the scene and help Kevin direct. Unless you want to do the notification.”

“You’re much more adroit with these things, boss. As hard as I try, I just don’t have the soul sensitivity.”

“McAdams, only you could saddle me with an onerous chore and make it sound like a compliment.”

“That’s me in a nutshell. I’m terrible at feelings but good with words.”

SHE WAS Abeautiful woman with short blond hair surrounding a serene face. Her features were strong—defined chin, full lips, and almond-shaped, bright blue eyes. She appeared to be around five ten but more lanky than muscular. Dressed in a black suit and white shirt, she looked more executive than cop. Decker found her to be self-effacing, but not shy. They were talking in one of Greenbury’s four interview rooms because the detectives’ squad area was a big room of open desks and everyone could hear everyone else’s business. It was a good layout insofar as information sharing, but not so good for privacy.