The cop finished the last aisle and bumped out the exit.
Safe.
He wiped the gloves on his pants, drained.
* * *
A few minutes later he steered to the garbage can topped with a plastic clown. He threw napkins, cup, and oily bag into its yawning mouth.
Followed by the evidence-laden paint can, which he’d tucked inside a beat-up cardboard box. By tomorrow, it’d be in a landfill, crushed by 1,000 tons of Naperville castoffs.
He kicked up the AC till the jungle air turned polar, then headed south.
Noting with approval the line of drivers dumping trash on top of his, and the absence of anyone who cared.
2:02 p.m.
“I hate rubbernecks,” Emily grumbled, passing out sandwiches behind the mud spa. Her stomach had started growling, so she volunteered to drive to Grandma Sally’s, the family restaurant a few blocks west on Ogden. “There I was, minding my own business, and some idiot in a Land Rover nearly hits me head-on.”
“Gawking at the pretty flashing lights, huh?” Officer VapoRub said.
“He was so not paying attention he drifted into my lane,” Emily said. “I had to slam on my brakes. Fortunately for him, he straightened up and waved his apologies.”
“Should have pulled him over anyway,” VapoRub said, biting into a drippy gyro. “Teach the dope a lesson.”
“And let the food get cold?” Branch said. “What kind of cop are you?”
Everyone laughed.
Branch’s phone burbled. Still chuckling, he plucked it off his belt.
The long scar on his cheek began twitching. Emily knew what that meant. Her tuna on whole wheat began tasting like cardboard.
“What?” she said when he disconnected.
“It’s Marty at Seager Park - no, no, he’s fine,” Branch said, hastily adding the last when Emily blanched. “A sheriff’s dispatcher couldn’t raise one of her deputies. She thought it might be radio trouble, asked Marty to find him.”
“And?”
“He did, just now. Dead. His name’s Rayford Luerchen-”
“Ray?” she gasped.
“Uh-huh. Do you know him?”
The brutality of the submachine-gun attack had erased parts of Branch’s long-term memory, she knew. Traumatic amnesia, the doctors called it. Branch simply didn’t remember her ugly history with Ray Luerchen.
“Uh, yes, I do,” she said. “Go on.”
“Marty found Ray deep in the woods, handcuffed to the tow ball of his cruiser. He’d been shot four times - jaw, chest, forehead.”
“Jesus,” Emily groaned as the other cops shuffled and spat. While she despised the misogynist creep, she didn’t wish him murdered. “Did he get any shots off?”
Branch shook his head. “Gun’s still in his holster. Let’s just hope Ray scratched his assailant. Maybe CSI will find some skin under his nails.”
“Or jammed in his boot treads,” VapoRub said. “If he managed to kick the scrote.”
“Even better.”
Another thought occurred to Emily. “Maybe we’re looking at the same killer.”
“As Zabrina Reynolds?”
“Yes.”
“Unlikely,” Branch said. “Ray was shot, Zabrina stabbed.
Most doers stick with one or the other. Too hard to be good at both.” He stroked his blue chin. “Then again . . .”
“The timing,” she said.
“Yeah. What are the odds of two killers roaming Naperville at the same time?”
Emily tossed her sandwich in the garbage. “Maybe he was driving the side streets, trying to escape. Ray pulled him over. Not because he suspected anything, but just to write a ticket.”
“Makes sense,” VapoRub said. “Ray would’ve had his gun out if the stop was anything other than routine. He ain’t the bravest chicken in the coop.”
“Shooter pulls into the park,” Branch said, nodding. “Blasts Ray when he walks up. Cuffs him to the tow ball, dumps him in the trees.”
“And escapes,” Emily said, the word fizzing bitter on her tongue. “Again.”
“Looks like. I need to call Ken.”
She leaned against the faded brick wall, wondering why she was suddenly so cold.
2:09 p.m.
“Grab whatever bodies you need,” Cross said, straining to hear his speakerphone over the whine of tires on interstate. “I’ll shuffle the paperwork when I’m back.”
“Will do. Is the sheriff OK with me leading the task force?”
“As long as Marty handles the Seager Park side.”
“Fine by me,” Branch said. “Our people will concentrate on the spa.”
Cross confirmed. “We’ll run the combined operation out of our station. It’s closer to both crime scenes than the county building.”