Free Through the Evil Days: A Clare Fergusson/Russ Van Alstyne Mystery (Clare Fergusson and Russ Van Alstyne Mysteries) by Julia Spencer-Fleming Page A

waiting around in this cold any longer than you have to.”
    She nodded without looking at him and headed to the back of the building. Kevin tried the front door. Locked. He flattened his hands and pressed all eight apartment buttons at the same time. Somebody would buzz him in without bothering to check.
    He was right. The door clicked open at the same time a male voice crackled “Who is it?” over the speaker. Kevin slipped in and jogged up the stairs, figuring speed was more important than silence. At Johnson’s apartment, he rapped on the door. Nothing. He rapped a second time, then rang the bell.
    “Who is it?” The voice was muffled but definitely female.
    “Annie Johnson? Millers Kill police. We’d like to talk to you about your daughter, Mikayla.”
    There was no response, except for the thudding of footsteps and a thump.
    “Ms. Johnson! Millers Kill police. Open the door and put your hands on top of your head!”
    His shoulder mic cracked on. “She’s running!” Hadley said. “She’s on the fire escape. She’s carrying—” The line went dead. Kevin stepped back and smashed the flat of his boot against the door’s lock. The shock of the impact vibrated up to his hip, but the door didn’t budge. Dead bolt. Great. He spun around and leaped for the stairs, bouncing down three at a time until he arrived at the phone-booth-sized foyer. He burst through the outer door in time to see Hadley race past, clutching a … blanket? Pillow? He didn’t waste time asking, just took off after her. He pounded up Causeway, rounding the corner and nearly running into Hadley, who was bent over, panting. “Lost her,” she gasped.
    Kevin scanned the area. “Did you see if she cut between those buildings? She could have gone through the yards to Beale Street. Or maybe the back alley behind Depot.”
    “Didn’t see her.” Hadley sucked in air. “She got too far ahead of me.”
    “What the hell happened? I thought you had the fire escape covered?”
    “I did! I was drawing my Taser and warning her to stop when she threw this over my head.” Hadley thrust the bundle toward him. It was one of those life-sized baby dolls, tied up in a couple of flannel blankets.
    “She threatened you with a doll?”
    “I thought it was a baby, dumb-ass! I dropped my Taser and dove for it. By the time I saw what it really was, she was off the fire escape and halfway down the street. Shit! ” Hadley kicked a clump of ice into the street.
    “Why are you still carrying it?”
    Hadley looked down at the doll. “I have no idea.” She tucked the decoy baby beneath her arm. “Let’s go see what we can find in her place.”
    They went in through the fire escape window. Normally, Kevin was a stickler for observing the proprieties, but he didn’t have the patience to track down the landlord or the management company and demand a key. He wanted to get in, get out, and hopefully salvage something from this goat cluster.
    Annie Johnson’s apartment was a mess—crumpled fast-food wrappers everywhere, garbage piled haphazardly around the trash can, clothes in cardboard boxes and broken laundry baskets. The kitchen smelled like someone had taken a dump in it, and the bathroom mold looked like something out of a horror movie about creeping slime.
    Hadley tugged on her evidence gloves. “Jesus. I am so looking forward to getting home tonight. My place is going to look like the Ritz-Carlton after this.”
    Kevin was searching the kitchen cabinets for gasoline or kerosene when Hadley yelled, “Flynn. C’mere.” He followed her voice into one of the bedrooms. Hadley had snapped on the overhead light. “Take a look at this.”
    The room looked like a pharmaceutical company’s loading dock. No furniture, no decorations, just box after box filled with decongestants. “Pseudoephedrine,” he said.
    “All different kinds.” Hadley pointed out three different name brands and two generics in the box nearest them. “Annie Johnson’s been