NEWS TO LET YOU KNOW ABOUT MY HEADING UP THE TASK FORCE—WHICH RIGHT NOW IS JUST ME, TONY & KERRY, THE ECC TECH. SOME FORCE, HUH? WORSE, WE’VE MADE NO PROGRESS. JUST KEEPING UP WITH THE BODY COUNT HAS BEEN CHALLENGING ENOUGH.
I’LL SEE IF I CAN MAKE A BREAK BY 6. FIRST NEED A SHAVE & SHOWER.
BE CAREFUL OUT THERE!
He reread what he’d written, hit SEND, then stuck the phone back in his pocket.
Harris, trying to stifle a yawn, was saying, “Even as much as Howard probably reamed those guys in the forensics lab, I doubt they’ve had time to pull anything off Kendrik Mays yet.”
Payne looked at him—noticing that he, too, had a face dark with a five-o’clock shadow—and nodded.
“Number eighteen coming up,” Kerry Rapier said.
The main bank of monitors then showed an image of Kendrik Mays on the blood-soaked carpet on the sidewalk at Francis Fuller’s Old City office building. Then an inset image popped up. It was his Wanted sheet mug shot, which showed an angry young man with foul-looking black dreadlocks and a full black beard that was matted. It was not difficult to see his nasty stubs of teeth and bad gums, both severely eroded by the caustic chemicals used in the manufacturing of crystal meth.
The bottom right-hand corner ID stamp read:
Richard Saunders Holdings/Lex Talionis
Third & Arch
1241 hours, 01 Nov
The text box read:Name: Kendrik LeShawn MAYS
Description: Black male, age 20, 5'9", 200 lbs.
L.K.A.: 2620 Wilder St, Phila.
Priors Arrests: 8 total: possession of marijuana (7); possession with intent to distribute Methamphetamine (3); Conviction of and time served for Involuntary deviant sexual intercourse & rape of an unconscious or unaware person (1).
Call Received: 01 Nov, 1230 hours.
Cause of Death: GUNSHOT to head (99 percent probability).
Case No.: 2010-81-039614-POP-N-DROP
Notes: Fugitive. Shauna MAYS, mother of deceased, stated in interview that he was killed by SNU in basement of L.K.A. She described SNU as a skinny white male approximately her age (40), and suggested his motive was that someone in his family may have been robbed or raped by Kendrik Mays. Assailant left Wanted sheet with body. Body transported to Lex Talionis, Old City.
“Well, no surprise. No SNU number yet,” Payne said. “And even if it was our doer, all we’d know is that he’s added another bad guy to his exclusive death club. We’d still be no closer to figuring out who the hell he is.”
Then Payne glanced back at the image and saw that 2620 WILDER ST was blinking.
“That what I think it is, Kerry?”
Corporal Kerry Rapier said, “I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts that we’re now getting a live feed coming in from the Mays crime scene.”
Rapier typed a couple commands on the keyboard, then clicked on the blinking address with the Colt .45 Officer’s Model cursor. After the pistol fired and smoked, the big-screen image of Kendrik Mays returned to monitor eighteen. Then two new images appeared on the main bank of monitors, which Rapier had turned to split-screen mode.
The top row of three monitors had a stationary digital image of the exterior of the Mays house. In the bottom right-hand corner was a white orb that contained the image’s numerical designation, “1a.” Next to that, a text box read: 2620 WILDER STREET—EXTERIOR.
The middle and bottom rows of monitors—each with a black “1b” in a white orb next to the text 2620 WILDER STREET—INTERIOR—displayed the feed from a portable digital video camera. The shaky image was mostly black as the camera’s lone beam of light pierced a circle in the darkness, lighting up bits and pieces of the trashed house.
“My God!” Payne said. “It looks as if they’re going down into some hellish black hole.”
Harris said, “Yeah, like out of a horror movie.”
The unseen technician who carried the camera was carefully walking down a flight of unstable wooden steps. As he went, the beam of light showed busted-up Sheetrock and exposed wooden studs on the wall. Then, when the technician was almost to the bottom of the stairs, the lens caught images of roaches and a black rat scattering.
“Unbelievable,” Payne said.
Then the room began to fill with more artificial light, and when the tech panned the camera back to the wooden steps, another tech could be seen slowly descending. He wore blue jeans, a light blue T-shirt with a representation of the Crime Scene Unit patch—a cartoon Sherlock Holmes and basset hound sniffing the Philly skyline—on its left chest, and transparent blue plastic booties and tan-colored synthetic polymer gloves. A white surgical mask covered his nose and mouth.