light switch. Brody reached out and flicked it on. Muddy light poured down on the storage area from a grimy bulb about fifteen feet overhead.
"That door should lead into the gym," Hannigan said, nodding toward a large steel door set into the wall directly in front of them. She looked to her right. "Reckon where that leads?"
Following her gaze, Brody spotted a second door in the wall at the far end of the storage area. "Let's go see."
There was a lock plate on the door in question. Hannigan tried the main key without any luck. Flipping keys, she came to another one that looked fairly new. It slid into the lock and turned with a low creak of metal on metal.
"Careful," Brody warned as she started to turn the doorknob.
She eased the door open, her fingers flexing as she tightened her hold on the grip of her Smith & Wesson M&P compact .40. She entered quick and low, weapon extended, the penlight flashing across the cinderblock walls as she swept the place in search of intruders.
Brody, right behind her, lowered his weapon when it became clear there was nobody else in the room. "What is this place?"
Hannigan flicked a light switch, and fluorescent bulbs overhead lit the small room. It wasn't much larger than a walk-in closet, with narrow shelves lining the walls, much like the room they'd just left behind. But in here, the shelves held dozens of file boxes.
Lifting the lid of the nearest box, Hannigan peered inside. Whatever she saw made her dark eyebrows shoot skyward. She looked at Brody, nodding for him to join her.
Acutely aware of her small, curvy body pressed close to his, he looked into the box. Inside, stacked halfway up the box, were hundreds of photographs of people having sex in a surprising variety of positions.
"Oh my," Brody murmured. "But a whole room to store porn?"
"Look closer," Hannigan said, her voice subdued.
Brody scanned the visible photos again and realized that most of the people depicted would never be candidates for porn. Too heavy, too thin, too saggy or unattractive…
Suddenly, one of the photos drew his attention. The gray-haired man on his knees with his ass in the air, taking a spanking from a leather-clad redhead, looked awfully familiar. "Oh, my God. That's the mayor, isn't it?"
"In the flesh," Hannigan murmured.
"What the hell is this?"
"At first guess," she answered drily, "I'd say it's evidence of blackmail."
"You went in without a warrant." Lieutenant Crane's expression was somewhere between troubled and grim.
"We were looking for other possible victims," Brody answered calmly. He and Hannigan had agreed he'd do the talking. He was better at schmoozing upper management.
Crane shot him a skeptical look but didn't challenge the assertion, except to say, "You thought you'd find someone injured and hiding in a file box?"
Brody didn't respond. Hannigan sneaked a quick look at him and saw he really didn't know how to respond.
"That's my fault, sir," she spoke up. "I opened the box. Brody had nothing to do with it."
"I didn't try to stop her." Brody shot her a look of consternation.
"I suppose you might have been looking for signs of a struggle," Crane said with a sigh. "You do realize that what you uncovered is incredibly sensitive information, well beyond your scope as detectives."
Brody nodded. "Of course."
He didn't add that they'd seen enough photographs in the one box they'd examined to know the dirty laundry of several political and social bigwigs in a three-county area. Hannigan had insisted on at least sorting through the photos in the open box, since they might pose a pretty damned good motive for murder.
Crane released a long, gusty sigh. "I've applied for a search warrant for the gym, and I think we have a good chance of getting it, but I'm not going to expect the two of you to stay up all night going through the place. I've posted uniforms to protect the building. If anything happens, they'll call me and I'll call you. Go write up your report and then go