of lip balm.
Any of them could work. Michelle would have held these in her hand, leaving some nice fingerprints.
I lift up each item with a tissue and drop it into a brown evidence bag, one of many that Books brought along today.
“You have some reason to suspect…Michelle?” Louise asks.
“Oh, it’s probably nothing. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get outside and back on the phone. An agent’s picking me up.”
We walk quickly toward the reception area. She says, “I’m sorry that we don’t have a patient named Petty, but you think he might have used a different name?”
“Possibly,” I say. “Or he might be one of those veterans who hung out in the courtyard when Lew gave his political speeches.”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” says Louise. “I’m usually back in the administrative offices. But Tom said he saw those people. If you could get him a photo?”
“Working on it,” I say. At the reception area, I stop and shake her hand. “You and Tom both have my cell phone number. Call me if anything comes up.”
I head outside and dial Books just as my ride—one of the agents from the search of Wagner’s home—pulls up in a Crown Vic.
Books picks up. “Hey,” he says. “I’m driving, so you’re on speakerphone.”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Turns out Petty has a car.”
“He does? And you’re following him?”
“Yeah, but he’s way ahead of me. He got through a light I missed. I’m rusty at surveillance, apparently. But I see him up ahead.”
“You get a license plate?”
“No. But I will. I’ll start breaking traffic laws if I have to.”
“You want me to pull up a map?”
“Only if I lose him. I won’t lose him.”
“Okay. What’s your plan?”
“I want to see where he goes. If he has a home, he assumes nobody knows about it. Talk about a treasure trove.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” I say.
“What would I do without your advice?”
“I mean don’t confront him. Not by yourself.”
“I got it, Em. How did you do?”
“They don’t know Petty by description, and he’s not listed as a patient. I need a photo. But I did get some fingerprint samples that should work.”
“Great. Remember, when you get back to Wagner’s apartment, talk to Agent Rudney. Best fingerprint guy in the Bureau.”
“Okay. Try to get a photo of Petty, would you?”
“I will. I have to go now. It’s too hard to talk and drive and watch him.”
“Okay, go. And be careful.”
“Yep.”
“Books, wait,” I say quickly, suddenly full of worry, suddenly realizing how much danger I’ve placed him in, suddenly overwhelmed by missed opportunities and lost second chances and…tears brim in my eyes. I can’t say anything; my throat’s too choked with emotion.
“Me too, Emily Jean. Me too. I’ll be fine,” he says. And the phone goes dead.
We reach Morningside Lane a few minutes later. As Books suggested, I find the lead agent on the forensics team, Rich Rudney, a friendly-looking guy with gray curly hair. I gave him a quick summary of our progress.
“So this might be a murder scene now,” he says. “Well, there isn’t any blood, I can tell you that. But we’re doing a full work-up.”
“And there’s some prints I need you to pull,” I say to Rich, reaching into my pocketbook for the brown evidence bag. “A rush job. It’s probably nothing, but…”
“Probably nothing,” he says, “is sometimes something.”
107
BOOKS HITS the brakes, managing not to rear-end the car in front of him, which has stopped for a red light. Up ahead, Petty’s navy-blue sedan is driving on. Books keeps his eyes trained on it.
His phone is in his left hand—he’s hoping that, if nothing else, he can get a photo of the license plate of Petty’s vehicle.
Petty’s car eases into a left-turn lane at the next intersection, a red light. The light controlling Books turns green. He’s stuck behind a car moving much slower than he’d like. At the next intersection, Petty executes the left turn and disappears from Books’s view, heading north. The left-turn signal changes to a solid green.
Even if Books can reach that intersection before the light turns red, he’ll have to wait through a glut of traffic before he can turn. It will be too late.
Books makes a quick left turn into the parking lot of a hardware store, drawing objecting horns from oncoming cars but not caring. If his attempt at a shortcut doesn’t work, Petty will be gone.
He drives through the parking lot to the back of the store and takes an alley toward the road onto