Free Never Happened by Debra Webb Page A

shouldn’t—”
    â€œPlease,” Alex urged, “this may prove very useful.”
    The woman’s gaze wandered toward the devastation once more. “He didn’t get out much. Spent all his time piddling around with computers.” She leaned closer as if what she had to say next was top secret. “Mrs. Baker went over once when Timothy was first moving in. You know, checking out the new neighbor to make sure he wasn’t an ax murderer or anything. She said the basement was packed with all sorts of electronic gadgets. At least half a dozen computers. She said it was bizarre. Like something from a science fiction movie.”
    Alex’s heart rate reacted to an adrenaline dump. “Is that what Timothy did for a living?”
    She nodded. “My husband says he’s supposedly a genius or something when it comes to computers and cyberspace.” She cleared her throat again. “Wassupposed to be, I should say. But he was a real recluse. Hardly ever came out of the house.”
    No wonder Henson didn’t talk about the guy to his friends, that was probably part of their arrangement. A kid that reclusive wouldn’t want any attention.
    The sound of something crashing inside the house ended the discussion. Alex thanked her and moved on to the next house.
    After hearing the same story from three neighbors, Alex felt confident that Timothy O’Neill was the unofficial expert Henson had visited last night.
    She decided to pull over at the scene and try her luck with Detective Dickhead. Maybe he’d give something away. She needed to be sure Timothy O’Neill was dead. His neighbors assumed he was since they had seen the M.E. take a body from the house.
    The detective she’d noticed at the scene now leaned against his car speaking to someone on his mobile phone. Alex parked behind him and got out of her SUV. He glanced her way but didn’t bother waving.
    It was then, something about the way he noted her arrival with a dismissive glance, that recognition flared. She knew this guy.
    He’d been the detective on the case when Patsy’s Clip Joint had been burglarized. It sounded weird, sheknew, but there were people who would break into any place. Fortunately none of the animals had been taken. Just a few dollars in cash and a large metal cage. Alex had her own ideas as to why the cage had been taken.
    But this detective. She glared at him. Detective Daryl Winston. He’d been a real jerk to Patsy. Alex had seen him from across the alley, but hadn’t known until later how he’d talked down to Patsy.
    She despised guys like him.
    Alex walked toward the house, hadn’t even reached the crime scene tape when he shouted, “Where do you think you’re going?”
    Well at least she had his attention now. She turned around and flashed him a smile. “I’m Alex Jackson. Never Happened. I thought I’d leave my card for the owner.” She snagged a card from her bag and waved it at him.
    The idea of her getting a job here wasn’t exactly plausible considering the house would need a bulldozer a whole lot more than it would need her. But, hey, it was a conversation starter.
    â€œI know who you are.” Still reclined against his car, he smirked, then executed a long perusal of her from head to toe. “Get real, Jackson, unless you’vebranched out into rubble removal, this is way out of your league.”
    â€œWho was the crispy critter?” she asked, getting down on his level as she walked toward him. Crispy critter was cop speak for a burned-beyond-recognition victim. She winced inwardly at the seemingly heartless moniker.
    â€œNo comment.”
    â€œCome on, I know the M.E. removed a body. Timothy O’Neill?”
    Winston crossed his arms over his chest and eyed her suspiciously. “You know I can’t discuss the details of a case with you.”
    â€œThe news has already reported it.” One of the