Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #2: Books 5-8 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (types of ebook readers txt) 📕

I nodded. “You can count on it. But my bet is he ain’t the brightest button in the sewing box, and he only wore gloves today. My bet, he’s owned this knife for a long time, and it is covered in his prints.”

She looked at me and laughed. “You’re kidding.”

“I’ll bet you a steak dinner.”

“You’re on.”

Twenty Three

Frank phoned while Luis was bagging the knife.

“John, I rushed the tests for you and I have the preliminary results. God alone knows how you arrived at that conclusion, but you were right.”

“About the prints or the DNA?”

“Both. It was exactly as you thought...”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. There was a large, orange moon rising over the treetops in the east. I smiled at her. I think she smiled back and winked. “That makes perfect sense, then. Listen, Luis is coming in in a while with a couple of knives that were used in an attack here at the Martins’ home.”

“Another one?”

“Yeah. It seems I stirred up a hornets’ nest. Will you acquaint him with your findings? They’ll be relevant.”

He was silent for a moment, then sighed like he wanted to kick himself. “You want me to look at the knives? I can do it on my own time.”

“I would appreciate that, Frank, though I have a hunch we’ll have this sewn up tonight.”

“You better start house hunting in Florida, pal!”

I hung up and grinned at Dehan. “You haven’t got any hot dates tonight, have you?”

She looked surprised. “What do you call this?”

I barked a laugh and called the captain. He answered like I was his least favorite mother in law.

“John! You just caught me. I was on my way home.”

“Captain. I need an APB on Ahmed Abadi.” I outlined the situation and told him we were headed to Ahmed’s house and would need back up. “He may be on the run and he may be armed, injured, and very dangerous.”

“I’ll see to it. Keep me posted… Or, um, report to me in the morning.”

“Will do, sir, in the morning.”

“Good.”

I hung up and hesitated a moment. “Dehan, I’ll meet you at the car. There’s just something I want to look at in the rectory.”

She didn’t look happy. She sighed and made her way toward the Martins’ house and I headed through the fence toward the rectory. There, in the kitchen, I I found what I had expected to find. Another piece slotted into the puzzle.

On the way back, I instructed one of the patrol cars to stay with the Martins till the morning, then stepped into the street. It was quiet and there was a chill in the air. The red and blue lights from the patrol cars pulsed, silent on the blacktop. The amber glow from the street lamps was diffused by the leaves of the plane trees, making the road into an eerie tunnel of half resolved shadows.

I climbed into the muffled seclusion of the Jaguar and closed the door. Dehan got in beside me. Her door echoed like a single shot in the night.

“Okay, Stone, time to talk. I am not here to tag along. I’m your partner. You seem real convinced of whatever it is you think, and so far you’ve been right. But I am not seeing it. Explain.”

I fired up the engine and headed north up Bogart Avenue, fast.

“Would you be mad if I said I wasn’t sure myself?”

I made the tires squeal as I turned left out of Bogart onto Morris Park, and accelerated toward Bronxdale. She looked at me like I was insane.

“Yes?”

I winced. “It’s a case of elimination, Dehan. It couldn’t be anybody else, could it? You know the old Holmesian adage, ‘eliminate the impossible…’”

“And whatever is left is the truth, I know. But…” She spread her hands.

I went on, “Exactly, whatever is left is the truth. Therefore, it had to be Ahmed, because it couldn’t be anybody else. Once I accepted that, things began to fall into place. But there are still a couple of details I need to confirm.”

“Like?”

I made a right on Bronxdale and hit the gas, moving north at speed toward Rhinelander. Somewhere in the night, I could hear the wail of sirens, our back up coming to join us. I grabbed the radio.

“Dispatch, this is Detective Stone proceeding to the residence of Ahmed Abadi on Unionport Road. I am approaching from Rhinelander Avenue. Requesting backup approach from Morrison Park.”

The radio crackled its confirmation and relayed the message.

The tires squealed as I made a left onto Rhinelander. I hit the gas and we surged forward and covered the half mile to Unionport Road in thirty seconds. As we moved down the road, I could feel the adrenalin pumping hot in my belly.

“We don’t know what weapons he has at home, Dehan. We do know he is prepared to kill and he is reckless. Remove the safety on your automatic, and if you have to use lethal force, do not hesitate. Are we clear?”

She eyed me a moment. “Yeah, we’re clear.”

I pulled into Unionport and stopped forty feet from his house, placing my car across the road. I got out, drew my weapon, and removed the safety. I could hear my back up approaching along Morris Park Avenue, a thin wail above the whine of a turbine on the railway tracks.

Two patrol cars pulled into the road ahead of me. One blocked the road. The other pulled up to the door. Two uniformed cops got out. I knew them, Stuart and Chen. I approached them.

“Hold your positions here at the car. He may be armed and he is very dangerous. Stay behind your vehicle.”

They acknowledged, drew their weapons, and remained behind the car. I climbed the two stairs to