Page 89 of Sinful Justice

Again, he stops and listens to what our superior says, then replies, “No book yet. Is he gonna live?”

For just a moment, Fletcher’s eyes fire with sympathy, then rage. “Fuck. Alright. Can you authorize CSIs to come back out here? Warrant covers us for a whole house search. We’re not dropping this till they come in and sweep the entire house and shed… Yes, sir.”

His eyes come to me. “Yes, sir. We’re on our way back.”

Hanging up, Fletch grips his phone in a white-knuckled hold that is seconds from destroying the device.

“What happened?” I ask warily.

“Garry’s dead.” He spins on his heels and presses his hands to the top of his head. “That motherfucker took the easy way out and dropped.”

“Of a heart attack?” My stomach doesn’t like it. My instinct says no way. “I’m calling bullshit.”

“Medics are with him.” He lowers his hands again and shakes his head. “They’re saying it looks legit. Happened inside a fucking cop shop, Arch. That’s about as legit as it gets.”

“Lieutenant wants us back?”

“Yeah. You got a bag?” He looks toward the stick. “We can’t leave that behind, but we can’t touch it without the bag.”

“I’ll grab one from the car.” Careful to step without messing up the floor, I move around Fletch and out of the kitchen. “I still wanna talk to the neighbor.”

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