Free Body Of Truth by Deirdre Savoy

top of the page. “Somewhere in Westchester.”
    Calls to the tipline were supposed to be anonymous unless the caller wanted it that way. But the caller ID must have picked it up and someone had written it down. “Let’s give her a call.”
    They went back to their desks for Mari to make the call. She hung up almost immediately. “The voicemail came on, which unfortunately gave no clue as to who I was calling.”
    â€œGreat.” Considering they weren’t supposed to have the number there was no point in leaving a message advertising they had it.
    â€œWhat now, Kemosabe? This is your rodeo.”
    Jonathan stood and put on his jacket. “Let’s head over to Highland Avenue.” If the caller could be believed, Pierce had to be visiting someone in that building, someone who might know what Pierce had been working on or who she’d left with. Knocking on a few doors definitely beat out heading down to the city, fighting midday traffic to speak to her agent and editor. Considering that they were scheduled to end up down there later for the commissioner’s press conference, they might as well start in the Bronx and work their way down. Mari sighed. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”
    Jonathan chuckled. While they were out, he’d have someone run down a number for their mystery caller, just in case they needed to speak to her after all.

Five
    The building at 4093 Highland Avenue was, like most other buildings in the neighborhood, a pre-war elevator building in serious need of repair. Despite the deadbolt, the front door opened without the need of a key. With the aid of four officers from the 44th, Jonathan and Mari intended to knock on each door and ask the resident if they’d seen Amanda Pierce that day.
    Truthfully, he didn’t hold out much hope of anyone volunteering any information. Not only would they run up against the usual brick wall, but whoever Pierce saw that day might be caught up in whatever it was that made someone want to kill her. Unless they’d been living under a rock and missed the news coverage, any person seeking the police’s protection would have come forward already. To Jonathan’s mind that meant that whoever Pierce had seen wanted to stay hidden.
    Then again, their mystery caller could have gotten the address wrong or had made up the story seeking a few minutes’ attention. There was only one way to find out.
    Each pair took two floors, he and Mari claiming the bottom two. It was his turn to do the talking, Mari’s to take down any pertinent information. The first two doors they knocked on yielded no response. That was the trouble with a daytime canvass—half the people weren’t home. He slipped a card under each door asking the occupant to call the precinct and moved on.
    He knocked on the next door. “Police Department.”
    When the door opened, Jonathan had to shift his focus downward. An old man in a wheelchair stared back at him, a belligerent expression hardening his features. “What y’all want?”
    Jonathan held up the picture of Pierce that the department was using for identification. “Have you seen this woman in this building?”
    The old man took the picture in his weathered, nut-brown hands and studied it. “That’s the woman that’s been on the TV.” He looked up at Jonathan. “What about her?”
    â€œWe have reports of her being in this building on Friday morning. Did you see her?”
    The old man’s expression soured. “Now, what would a gal like that be doing up here?” He handed back the picture. “Look, my program is on.” The man wheeled himself back and shut the door.
    That first interview set the tone for all the others. No one claimed to have seen Amanda Pierce and no one was pleased to have their morning interrupted by the police.
    â€œWell, that was productive,” Mari said as they stepped out of