had a wallet in his front pocket. Logan worked it out, then carefully opened it. A driver’s license sat behind a clear window in the front. The name on it read: Anthony Hudson. Logan put the wallet back.
The position of the gun, Anthony’s hand, it all pointed to suicide, but with the way things had been going, suicide was not a conclusion Logan was ready to jump to. Besides, the unlocked window and cut screen bothered him. Could be he had a cat that used it, but, if so, where was it now?
What surprised Logan most was that no one had heard the shot. In most of the apartment buildings he’d ever lived in, someone was always complaining about hearing their neighbors through the walls. A gunshot from the Beretta should have been heard not just by the people next door, but also by people in the buildings that lined the alley. And since this was the middle of a big city, no matter what time the trigger had been pulled, someone would have been home. But by the look of the wound and the smell, Anthony had been lying there dead for at least a day, if not more.
Logan scanned the room, looking for a note somewhere, but there was none.
…death could be made to look like anything. An accident, suicide, whatever they want…
Was this not what it appeared? There was no way for Logan to know for sure, but it certainly felt that way.
Instead of going out the window, he used the front door, then circled around to the alley like he had before, and got back into the El Camino.
He knew he should call the police. But if he did it from his cell phone, they’d record his number, and know who he was. He couldn’t have that. He’d lose too much time down at the station trying to explain why he’d found the body, and given the suspicions Detective Baker already had, it was possible they would even lock him up for a few days. He could always find a pay phone, but those were few and far between anymore, and you never knew where a security camera might be aimed.
There was a third option, though.
He started the El Camino, and pulled out of the carport.
16
Logan’s phone rang as he was driving back to the motel. The number on the display had a D.C. area code.
“Logan?” It was Ruth.
“I thought you’d forgotten about me.”
“I tried. Trust me.” She let out a little laugh. “My contact couldn’t run the plate number until after hours, and I wasn’t about to call you back from any of my phones.”
“Uh…thanks?”
“What? You want me to give them a good reason to fire me? I’ve got a family, remember?”
He didn’t say anything. He’d had a family once, small as it had been.
“Sorry, that was…unnecessary,” she said. “It’s just if anyone looks at the phone records they’ll already see that you called me at the office. One call I can play off, tell them I told you to get lost. But two? Especially if I’m the one initiating the second one? Not so easy to ignore.”
“Don’t worry. I get it.” And he did. Her cell phone and, of course, her office phone were both paid for by Forbus. They would know exactly who she talked to. “What did you find out?”
“Nothing that you’re going to like, I’ll bet. The car’s registered to a Cameron Jackson in Burbank, California. Unfortunately, Ms. Jackson filed a stolen vehicle report yesterday. It seems when she headed out to work in the morning her car was gone.”
There was an airport in Burbank, one that was a hell of a lot easier to use than LAX. Fly in, walk a few blocks away, steal a car from in front of a home. Easy. No doubt, in another couple of days, the police would find the car, but wouldn’t be able to pursue the case any further because there would be no prints.
“Thanks, Ruth.”
“I said you weren’t going to like it.”
“You’re right, but I’m not surprised.” He hesitate a second. Things had changed since they’d last talked. There was information she was uniquely positioned to provide him. He didn’t want to push, but he had to. “Listen, what kind of intel do you have on Burma these days?”
“Burma? I thought we were talking stolen cars.”
“Separate subject.”
“What’s important about Burma?”
“It’s for a friend. He…used to live there years ago.”
Ruth said nothing for several seconds. “What have you gotten yourself into?”