High Risk by G.K. Parks (books for 10th graders TXT) 📕

“Yeah, so?”

“So maybe he has it wrong. The deliveries must come in this way, so that could explain how someone not directly connected to Star Cleaners happened to get the alarm code.”

“Chambliss already asked about that, but nothing popped.”

“Okay.” Fennel rubbed his palms together and blew out a breath. The lock on the rear door was old and scratched. It could have been picked, or it could have just been worn. “I got nothing.”

That made two of us. “I knew this was a waste. Let’s split up and do a quick walk around. I’ll meet you at the front door.”

Fennel followed the alley around the back of the building while I went around the corner and circled around the side. Two other shops separated the dry cleaner’s from the corner with large picture windows. But they didn’t have any outdoor security cameras, and the shops had been closed at the time of the break-in.

“Useless,” I muttered.

While I stood in front of Star Cleaners, waiting for my partner, I noticed my reflection in the windows. The glass had a dark tint which didn’t allow outsiders to easily see in. Instead, it reflected a mirror image of the surrounding street. At night, it might have been a little easier to see inside the store, but the best view would still require cupping your hands around your face and pressing against the window.

“Brad,” I called the moment he turned the corner, “did CSU check the windows for prints?”

“Why would they?” Mr. Lee asked, carefully opening the boarded-up door. “They weren’t broken and weren’t used to get inside.”

“I don’t know, Liv.” Fennel’s brow furrowed, and he tilted his head to the side to study the nearest window. “I’m not seeing any powder residue.” He glanced at the dry cleaner. “Did you wipe the windows yet?”

“No, I didn’t. The crew I hired spent the afternoon inside. They said they’d come back later tonight and have everything spic and span by morning.”

I reached for my phone to find out if our team missed something while Fennel scrutinized the front windows. He crouched down. “I see smudges.”

“Hey, this is DeMarco.” I placed my request for a team to come down for some quick evidence collection.

When I got off the phone, Fennel stared up at me. “You realize we already released the scene. Anything we find now won’t hold up in court.”

“Does it matter?”

He pressed his lips together. We had to find these killers, but we’d need something solid to keep them off the streets. “Let’s see what they find. Then we’ll run it by the lieutenant and possibly the DA’s office and figure out how to proceed.”

“Wait, you mean you screwed up?” Mr. Lee asked.

“No, sir.” But we might have overlooked some key evidence. “We just want to be extra thorough.”

“That’s not what Detective Fennel just said.”

I glanced at my partner, hoping he’d chime in with something encouraging. But he held his hands up in front of his face, trying to judge the size of the smudge marks. Then he moved over to the next window pane to check for more smudges. “We like to cover all our bases. I’m sure you’re the same way, with the way you tackle stains and all.”

“Right,” Mr. Lee said, though he seemed even less convinced than he did before. “But is this going to delay my reopening?”

“No, sir,” Fennel said.

“Okay, then do whatever you like.” Mr. Lee nodded to us and went back inside.

“If our killers were smart, they might have tried to get a peek inside to see what they were facing once they broke in. The goal had to be the uniforms in back.” Fennel stood up straight. “We didn’t know that before, but I’m guessing the rear door was disarmed and one killer used it to gain entry to the LockBox uniforms. The second guy remained here, keeping an eye on Jonathan Gardner.”

“And as soon as the night watchman heard noise in the back, the second killer broke through the window, killed him, and emptied the register. Damn, that’s brilliant.”

“I just hope they didn’t bother to wipe the glass afterward.” Fennel smiled. “And you thought this was a waste of time.”

Twenty minutes later, the mobile crime scene unit pulled to a stop in front of the dry cleaner’s. Ellie climbed out of the driver’s seat and opened the rear doors. “Hey, Brown Eyes and Brown Eyes’ partner.”

“Twice in two days,” Fennel said. “I’d say it’s my lucky day, but these are terrible circumstances.”

She grabbed her kit and came toward us. “You think I missed something?”

“I think it’s possible,” Fennel said. “You had a lot of ground to cover.”

She chuckled, turning to me. “Be careful. This one’s a smooth talker.”

“I know. I thought about putting a warning label on him but figured no one would take it seriously.”

She took out what looked like a large brush for blush and opened a glass jar. “This one’s a keeper. You better be nice to her, Brad.”

My partner glanced at me and winked. “So I’ve been told.”

“Well, now you’ve heard it a second time.” After knocking the excess off the brush, Ellie gently ran it along the glass. “I’m not getting anything.”

“What about here?” Fennel pointed to the smudge he’d noticed.

“Considering the amount of foot traffic, it could have come from anywhere.” But when she couldn’t pull a print, she swabbed the area. “It’s some sort of grease. But since we didn’t find prints anywhere inside, I’m guessing the killer wore gloves.” She stuck the swab into a tube and sealed it. “I’ll compare this to the grease we found on the rear security cameras. I’m guessing it’ll match. When he sprayed or wiped the lens with it, he probably got some transfer on his gloves.” She pointed to the smudges.