Page 44 of One Final Target

Barstow turned to King. “No one is allowed inside theperimeter until we’ve cleared the house. As for the contents of the freezer, call the coroner and apprise him of the situation.” Barstow left them, heading back to Collins’s home.

Sam felt King watching him. When Sam turned to face him, the older cop said, “There’s coffee in the response van.” Then he walked toward the house Jodie had gone into.

Since he was ready for some coffee, and he wanted to sit down, Sam took King’s advice and entered the response van. He saw a small bathroom off to the left and went in. In the mirror he noted his filthy appearance. He tried to wash off as much dirt as he could. His shirt was probably history, like the torn pants. At least the tie and coat survived. After cleaning up as best he could in the tight space, he went back to the conference room and inhaled one doughnut and contemplated a second. For the moment though, he sat in a comfortable chair and sipped his coffee. Coffee and doughnuts, fortifying cop food.

Smiley had followed him in. He ate two doughnuts and then sat, put his feet up, and closed his eyes. So much of police work was waiting.

Footsteps sounded and when Sam turned, he saw a woman approaching. A badge hung around her neck, so she must be one of the investigators.

“Sam Gresham, I presume?” the woman asked. She was short and stocky, with close-cropped dark hair and a serious expression.

Sam stood. “Yep.”

“Tara Corson.” She extended her hand.

Sam shook it. He recognized the name from the reports he’d read. She’d been part of the original task force. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m honored to meet you. You’ve saved my friend’s life twice.”

“How is Jodie?”

Corson cocked her head. “Jury is out. Are you hungry? Estella has invited everyone in for a meal—unless, of course, you’d like to continue to stuff your face with doughnuts.”

“I am hungry...” He looked at Smiley.

“I am propelled by the doughnuts—for now,” Smiley said with a smile. “You can go. We’ll know where to find you if we need you.”

“Can I ask you a question?” Sam said to Corson.

“Shoot.”

“Is there any fallout from this? Is Jodie in trouble for breaking into the house?”

Corson shrugged. “Mike is irritated, sure, but who is the victim? Collins? I guess if we find him, and he wants to press charges for trespassing. There’s little anyone else could do.”

“I’m sure she knows she shouldn’t have done it,” Sam said. “But it’s an odd conundrum. If she hadn’t broken in, a lot more people could have died.”

“The situation wasn’t lost on me, so I’m sure it’s not lost on Mike.”

“Thanks.”

“Go eat.”

“You’re not eating?”

“I just had lunch. I have to get to work.”

Sam nodded and left her there. The desire to see Jodie and his own hunger—he didn’t know which was stronger—had Sam hurrying up the street. A minute later he was at Estella’s door.

A young man answered his knock.

“Hi, I’m looking for Jodie King.”

“Are you Sam?”

“Yep.”

“Come on in.”

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