through the ViCAP reports while you weren’t sleeping last night,” he said, joking.
To his shock, she nodded. “I did. Didn’t see anything that jumped out at me, though.”
“Wow, you really didn’t sleep.” His attention drifted back to the unrolled map once again. “Got a full day’s work in before most people woke up.”
“I’d like to go to the first two crime scenes. Get a feel for them.”
“You’ve got all the pictures.”
“I want to see them,” she said stubbornly. “You don’t have to go along. I know my way around Philly.”
He sat back, vaguely annoyed. “I do have to go. You won’t get past the officer stationed at them otherwise.” Pushing back from his desk, he shrugged into his beige suit jacket. “Okay. Afterward we’ll hit the area surrounding the convenience store, look for a spot the offender could have stashed his car.”
“Sounds like a lot of driving,” she observed.
He nodded unenthusiastically. Philadelphia recently had been named the tenth-worst congested city in the nation in terms of traffic. Opening up a desk drawer, he took out a new supply of gum and pain reliever for the headache that was sure to result.
“If we’re going to be on the road that much”—she set her cup down and picked up her purse—“you can stop somewhere for better coffee.”
The warehouse Nate parked in front of was at the end of a street, flanked by the Schuylkill River on one side and a couple empty lots on the other. An occasional truck rumbled down the road toward them, but all turned off before reaching midway down the block.
Risa slammed the car door behind her and tilted her head up at the building. Windows had been covered with plywood and painted a dark brown. There had once been huge matching doors on the front of the structure, large enough to swing inside and allow semis to unload. But what was left of the doors hung useless on their hinges now, yellow police tape crisscrossing the gaping opening.
A fresh-faced uniformed officer posted at the door straightened at their arrival. When Nate badged him, he relaxed visibly. “How’s it going?”
“Been quiet here, detective. This street doesn’t see a lot of traffic.”
Nate bent to pick up a couple hard hats left inside the doorway, handed one to Risa. “We’re going to look around.”
“Yes, sir.”
Donning the hard hat, Risa gingerly stepped inside the shadowy building. Her eyes were drawn immediately to the center of the space, where a large blackened circle stained the dirt floor.
“The offender went to a little trouble finding this place.” Nate’s voice was impassive. “We think he used that hoist chain to keep the victim upright before the fire was started.”
Risa looked at the massive rusted chain and hook hanging down from one metal beam overhead. A chill broke out over her skin. The chain was blackened but the beam appeared untouched.
Turning back toward the double doors, she frowned. “Doesn’t make sense. There’s no fuel to keep the fire spreading . . . oh-h.”
“Yeah, before he left he must have sprayed more of the gasoline mixture toward the front doors. Probably broke in the back door and exited the same way.” He nodded toward the doorway in the rear, which had a yellow X of tape crossing it.
Silent now, she moved into the center of the blackened area. There would have been no one to hear the victim’s screams. Even if the warehouses farther up the street employed watchmen, little sound would have escaped the brick and mortar building. Glass was a noise conductor, but the windows had been replaced with wood long ago. The structure’s distance from the other buildings gave it an air of seclusion. There would have been no hope of rescue.
She moved across the area to peer out the back entrance. A rutted path—alley would be too generous—was worn into the weedy ground outside the structure. The land did a gradual roll into the river, about half a block away. “He pulled up here, all the way to the door. Left the vehicle out back. Who’s going to see it? Walked Parker through this door. Shut it behind him.” And with that door swinging shut, the victim’s hope for help had vanished.
Turning, she was surprised to find Nate on her heels. She nearly ran into him. “Where did you find the ID? And the badge?”
“His ID was just inside the back entrance. The badge was over there.” He gestured to the opposite shadowy corner. “No trace evidence, other than the body and