Free Kill Me Twice (A Zeke Edison Novel Book 1) by Joseph Flynn Page B

might be of help to each other.”
    Zeke thought for a moment. “You know A. J. Price?”
    “The paper’s pro basketball columnist? He’s retired, I think. I used to see him in the building at holiday parties, but I don’t know him personally.”
    “You know anybody at the paper who knows A.J.?”
    “I’d have to think about that.”
    “If you can find someone, have that person tell A.J. you’re trustworthy. If A.J. calls and tells me you’re okay, we’ll talk again.”
    “Okay, that’s fair. I’ll see what I can do, and you know what, Mr. Edison?”
    “What?”
    “I’ve got a feeling this is going to work out for both of us.”

Chapter 8
    Zeke’s new friend on the Evanston Police Department, Sergeant Charles Manley, was waiting for him when he and Reggie returned to his house on Sheridan Road that evening. Two patrol units were parked at the curb out front. Manley got out of one. Two cops with a very scared, very large teenager locked in the back seat occupied the other.
    Manley walked over to where Zeke had stopped his Porsche just a few feet onto the driveway.
    Zeke lowered the window and gave Reggie a look — best behavior — before turning to Manley. “Something going on, Sergeant?”
    “Yeah. See the kid in the back of the unit with my two people?”
    “Yes.”
    “Your neighbors, the ones with the kids at your party, reported him being up a tree on their property looking over at your house. Mom and Dad called the police, but their kids beat them to the punch. They called Mr. Black first.”
    Maybe having the phone number listed wasn’t such a bad idea, Zeke thought.
    “What happened then?” he asked.
    “Mr. Black and several of the people working on your house went next door to investigate, many of them with portable power tools in hand.”
    Zeke glanced over at the kid. He was scared but not disfigured.
    “Doesn’t look like they got any remodeling done,” Zeke said.
    Reggie had to stifle a giggle.
    “No, not a drop of blood was shed. That was a good thing for everyone. But the kid was climbing down from the tree when Mr. Black and the others arrived.”
    “Bet he climbed back up,” Reggie said.
    “He did, ma’am. When he refused to climb down, Mr. Black sent a man to fetch a ladder.”
    “Damn, did anyone get video of this?” Reggie asked.
    The question made both Zeke and Manley think.
    What with the kids calling George, and every smart phone being a videocam …
    “I bet they did,” Manley said. “I’ll have to talk to them about that.”
    “They might have caught him going up the tree the first time,” Zeke said. “You’ve got him for trespassing, if that’s the case.”
    “So you don’t think he’s just a fan who took things a bit too far?” Manley asked.
    Zeke took a longer look at the kid, who needed a moment to see he was being sized up and look the other way.
    Turning back to Manley, he said, “What I think, Sergeant, is that kid looks a lot like the two guys who took a run at Reggie and me in Chicago. The CPD identified him, and you bagged him.”
    Roberta Lane was working late at her desk in the newsroom at Tribune Tower, as usual. She hated taking her work home. That happened on occasion, but she tried to keep it to a minimum. Whenever she returned to her apartment, she preferred to lock the world out. Her job had long ago persuaded her that evolution worked way too slow. Humanity, if it deserved that title, still followed the law of the jungle far more than any other.
    It would have made her weep, if her heart hadn’t turned to stone.
    Earlier that day, she’d found a reporter at the paper who both owed her a favor and was on good terms with A.J. Price, the Trib’s retired pro basketball columnist. Cashing in the chit that was owed, she’d gotten the colleague to ask Price to call Zeke Edison and tell him she was trustworthy. Now, she had to wait and see if Price would come through for her.
    Meanwhile, she replayed her conversation with Zeke in her