Free The Thrill of the Chase (Mystery & Adventure) by Jack Parker Page A

repeated absently.
     
    "We've got a victim this time," Slyder replied grimly. "A Jane Doe. Like I said, Chauncey's team got the routed 9-1-1 call from neighbors who heard screaming. He called us in about a half hour ago."
     
    "I'll be right over," I said and dropped the phone onto the base.
     
    Cursing under my breath, I hurried down the hall – only stopping for my coat and hat. The frigid air blasted me awake as I dashed down the frozen walk – slipping and sliding – and jumped into the Anglia. I turned the ignition, the car's headlights pierced the darkness, and I cranked the steering wheel hard away from the curb.
     
    Thankfully, the snowy streets were vacant, so it took me only fifteen minutes to get to the place, marking my arrival at 2:23.
     
    Number 4, Whitefield Ave, was a two–story home with blue siding, set back a hundred yards or more from 322. The sprawling front lawn and surrounding homes were bathed in flashing red–and–blue lights from numerous squad cars and ambulances parked in the street and driveway. I made an attempt at parallel parking between a jeep and a squad car, failed as usual, but jumped out anyway and tore across the yard.
     
    There were people – neighbors I assumed – standing out in the snow, shivering and murmuring amongst themselves. Various police seemed to be attempting to send them back to their homes; other cops were refusing questions and conversing amongst themselves.
     
    I didn't have time to worry about bystanders.
     
    Slyder and two other officers met me at the front door as I leapt up the front steps – all five of them in one bound.
     
    "Sorry I'm late," I panted, leaning heavily on my knees to catch my breath.
     
    The big cop gestured with a thumb over his shoulder. "Go do your thing," he said, negating the need for any greetings either of us might have otherwise offered. He wasn't much for deliberation.
     
    I would have made a comment if I'd had breath in my lungs. Instead, I gave him the thumbs–up and gulped in air.
     
    Police officers clogged the rooms and hallways, examining everything from the snowy boot–prints on the floors to the rumpled throw rug behind the front door. I could tell immediately that there were several districts represented besides Glassboro: I saw officers from Deptford, Mullica Hill, and two from East Greenwich aside from SPD's small task force. There had never been much vying for investigatory rights in the past amongst South Jersey cops, although word of my incompetence had probably started making its way up the various chains of command, and someone was bound to complain sooner or later.
     
    Now, with this newest development, our case had instantly escalated into something more significant than a backwater B&E. The varying districts would certainly want their share of the action, but not if things were going to get messy. Which was probably why the DA, Seth Chauncey, hadn't staked a claim on the crime scene that night.
     
    I shouldered through the crowd, following Slyder and an unshaven officer – who looked like he hadn't slept for days – up the carpeted stairs to the second floor of the home.
     
    Visible evidence suggested a hurried getaway: a table in the upstairs hall was overturned, one of its three legs broken off. A portrait had been knocked off the wall, scattering glass fragments all over the hall floor. Again, snowy footprints were everywhere, further evidencing the thieves' presence.
     
    Slyder ushered me into the second room on the right, a room with a white door. I stepped inside and took in the signs of a struggle at a glance.
     
    Bed sheets were torn off the king–sized bed (a canopy bed; these folks were rich) and scattered on the floor. Books had been knocked from the shelves. The chair to a large writing desk was overturned, and stationery and pens were scattered everywhere.
     
    A naked woman's body lay in the middle of the floor. Paramedics were preparing a stretcher to cart her out, and several