Free Deadfall by Patricia H. Rushford Page A

Let’s see what you’ve got.”
    Mac pulled the print card out of a manila envelope and handed it to Pete.
    â€œWe also bagged a length of duct tape that was wrapped around the victim’s hands.” Kevin set the paper bag on a steel worktable. “We were hoping you could find the bad guy’s prints on the tape. A field team from your office didn’t have much luck at the scene.”
    â€œThis is the saw blade guy, huh?” Pete made a sour face while he examined the print card. “Not bad; you did a good job lifting these prints. Let’s feed them into AFIS and see what comes back. As usual, you guys need to wait out here, though. The print computer is a clean room, so we minimize our foot traffic in there.” Pete disappeared through a sliding door and returned moments later. “I’ll let you know when we get a name. In the meantime, I’ll get to work on this tape.”
    â€œThanks. My pager number is on the card.” Mac slid a business card across the table.
    â€œI’ll call you on the tape in a couple of hours, even if AFIS hasn’t returned. It will take me a bit to separate the tape and search for latents, but I’ve had pretty good luck with duct tape in the past.
    Folks usually remove their gloves to work with the stuff.”
    â€œLet’s hope that’s the case,” Kevin said.
    â€œWant to grab some lunch, partner?” Mac checked his watch.
    Eleven-thirty.
    â€œI’m not particularly hungry.” Kevin pulled up his seatbelt and fastened it. “Tell you what, why don’t you drive me back to my place?
    I have an appointment this afternoon. We can’t do much until we figure out who this guy is. Maybe Dana can meet you for lunch.”
    â€œSure.” Mac turned the key in the ignition.
    An uncomfortable silence rode with them as Mac maneuvered the crowded city streets. He missed his partner’s bantering. He even missed Kevin’s minisermons. What was the deal, anyway?
    Kevin seemed to be distancing himself more all the time. Was he planning to give Mac a bad review? Did he plan to ditch Mac and grab another partner? As much as he wanted to, Mac couldn’t ask those questions.
    He dropped off Kevin and went in search of a fast-food place, finally going through the drive-through at a Burger King. His aloneness and confusion turned to anger, which lasted until he got to the office. Mac took his lunch into his cubicle to eat it, then he decided to catch up on some paperwork and update Sergeant Evans. Once he disposed of his empty lunch containers, he headed out through the maze of cubicles. The junior officers, of which he was one, shared the big rooms with dividers, while the sergeants and senior detectives had private offices. It seemed everyone was always vying for primo space. Mac didn’t really care at this stage.
    He was just glad to be there.
    Mac knocked on the door to Sergeant Frank Evans’s office, hoping to update him on the case and see if there were other assignments pending. He heard shuffling inside. Since the office door was slightly ajar, he pushed it in a bit farther. “Hey, Sarge, you got a sec?” Mac asked in a hushed tone, in case the sergeant was on the phone.
    â€œDid I say you could come in?” A voice boomed back, but it wasn’t Frank’s. Mac pushed the door open all the way and found Detective Phil Johnson seated at Frank’s desk, reading through a stack of paperwork.
    â€œI wouldn’t have asked if I’d known you were here. Where’s Sarge?”
    â€œDunno.” Philly huffed without looking up. “Just dropping off some reports. Thought I would tidy up his desk a little.”
    â€œTidy up, or read his confidential memos?” Not sure what to make of the situation, Mac offered a tentative smile.
    Philly slapped the paperwork back on the desk and tried his best to look offended, pushing back on the chair’s wheels and sliding