Never Tell (Detective D.D. Warren #10) - Lisa Gardner Page 0,105
at four A.M., which is how I discovered the loose brick.”
“Anything there now?”
“No.”
“Okay. So you’ve located the drop site and at least spotted Rocket in action. What time and day?”
“Wednesday morning, seven A.M.”
“And the fire was Wednesday afternoon?”
“Yeah. I think we caught him picking up the target address and down payment. So now we’re going forward to late Wednesday evening / early Thursday morning to see when he picks up his final payment. Once we have that, we have two opportunities to catch Rocket’s client—either when the suspect first leaves the address or when he drops off the final payment. It’s taking a bit, though. Footage is dark and grainy. Combine that with random people bumbling about, and there are a lot of visuals to sort through. Hell, I think I’ve already ID’d several drug buys. It’s not a quiet area.”
“Smart thinking on Rocket’s part. That much activity, his own comings and goings hardly matter.”
“The kid’s been a known firebug for most of his life. I doubt anyone in the neighborhood messes with him. Anyone who likes to burn things for sport is best left alone.”
“He’s got a reputation.”
“He has a reputation in certain circles. Word-on-the-street sort of thing. Your CI might have been on to something last night. Rocket’s hardly big-time. Meaning our shooter is either local, or Rocket already knows enough to advertise on places like the big bad web. Hell, even the mob has gone cyber. It’s sad, really. Pretty soon, the department will be staffed by virtual cops programmed to ID virtual criminals. Where’s the fun in that?”
D.D. rolled her eyes. “Given that we’re not computer programs just yet, find me video of whoever hired Rocket the arsonist. A drop box is an old-fashioned system that will hopefully get us old-fashioned results. Sooner versus later, I might add. Now, Carol and Neil?”
“In the conference room. They’ve been working on Conrad Carter’s background all night.” Phil eyed her remaining coffee. “Make sure you keep one of those for yourself. By the time they’re done, you’re gonna need it.”
• • •
WHEN D.D. WALKED into the room, Neil and Carol were just hanging up the department’s speakerphone. They both appeared jazzed.
D.D. handed over coffees and took a seat. “All right, what’dya got?”
“Homicide, definitely. Conrad’s parents’ vehicle was run off the road shortly after eight P.M One moment they’re driving home from a local restaurant along a well-known route, next their car is rolling down an embankment into a canal. They were dead upon impact,” Carol shook her head.
“Witnesses? Leads?” D.D. asked.
“Nada,” Neil supplied. “We just spoke to Detective Russ Ange from the JSO; he personally worked with Bill Conner and has been investigating the MVA on and off for years. Road was rural, no cameras, but Ange is sure it was foul play due to damage on the rear fender consistent with impact. Height of the damage indicates a large vehicle, say, a truck or SUV. No paint, however, so maybe a chrome bumper. Unfortunately, there are a lotta trucks and SUVs in Jacksonville; without any witnesses, it’s been difficult get any traction in the case.”
“Surely he’s looked at Conner’s active investigations? Suspects, criminals the detective has come into contact with over the years and had reason to hold a grudge.”
“Detective Conner had a couple dozen open cases at the time,” Carol reported. “Two are worth noting: First, a significant domestic abuse case. Asshole husband, rich, entitled, kept beating up his wife and, given that he was rich and entitled, didn’t think her restraining order should apply to him. Situation had been going on for months. Detective Conner had taken a personal interest, meeting with the wife several times. Week prior to the accident, asshole husband showed up again, drunk, enraged, tried to break into the house. Detective Conner arrived at the scene. He and asshole had an exchange. Asshole ended up in the slammer for the night, with a black eye, and none too happy about it.”
“Detective Conner punched the man?” D.D. asked in surprise.
“In self-defense,” Neil clarified. “Husband took a swing at Detective Conner first.”
“Okay,” D.D. said. “But one way or another, I’m taking it the rich husband didn’t care for some local cop’s intervention into his self-perceived right to beat his wife?”
“Exactly.” Carol this time. “Apparently, the husband, Jules LaPage, yelled some pretty nasty threats at Detective Conner during his arrest. Unfortunately, LaPage owned a Porsche, not a truck. Jacksonville detectives couldn’t find any evidence he borrowed or rented a second vehicle. On the other hand,