Free Without Warning by David Rosenfelt Page B

turned over the scene to them. They began by operating under the assumption that the shooter was still in the house, but they agreed with Jake that it was unlikely. He had had too much chance to get away, and too little incentive to stay.
    It took three hours before they had enough confidence to storm the house, and they did so with practiced precision. As expected, it was empty, and they quickly understood why. A booby trap had been set up, causing a gun to be fired at the door when a wire was tripped.
    It seemed obvious that Matt was supposed to have tripped that wire, but Rachel did so instead.
    In the process, the prediction was foiled.
    For the moment.

 
     
    Katie was on the scene almost from the beginning. That was no surprise, since pretty much the entire town was there, back behind barricades that were set up to keep everyone at a safe distance. Murders and tense hostage standoffs tend to attract a crowd.
    I’ve learned over the years that Katie can be rather persuasive, so I wasn’t taken aback when I saw her standing next to me, moments after the SWAT team declared an all clear.
    “How is she?” were the first words out of her mouth.
    I looked around to make sure that no one would overhear me, though Katie was the only private citizen in the vicinity. “She died instantly,” I said. I wasn’t sure that was the case, but based on the wounds I saw, it certainly seemed likely.
    Katie’s face twitched slightly at the news, and I thought she was going to cry. If she did, it would be the first time I had ever seen her do it. But she maintained her composure, and said, “This is awful, Jake. Just awful.”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you have any idea who did this?” She seemed to ask this as a formality, as if she was going to use it in the still-unwritten story.
    I could have taken refuge in the tried and true, “We’re following some promising leads,” but instead I said, “Not yet.”
    “Can I quote you on that?”
    “Look, I’ve got a feeling we’re going to be together a lot, and I can’t worry about whether I’m talking to Katie Sanford the citizen, or Katie Sanford the journalist.”
    She smiled. “How about Katie Sanford, the friend?”
    “That would be my first choice.”
    “Good. Then unless you tell me something is on the record, everything you tell me is off. Okay?”
    “Perfect.” It was my turn to smile. “Thanks, friend.”
    “You’re welcome, buddy.”
    With the SWAT team leaving the scene, I was back in charge, and I sent Danny Martinez and his team into the house to do their work. I had my officers take Matt back to the station, to wait for me, while Hank and I surveyed the scene.
    There was a first-floor window open in the back, and Hank said, “Easy to get in and out through there.”
    The ground below the window was paved, and the dirt around it dry and hard. “I don’t think we’ll get footprints,” I said, “But give it a shot.”
    We sent officers around the neighborhood to canvas people, asking if they’d seen anything unusual. I was particularly interested in the streets behind Matt’s house, since it’s likely that’s how the killer exited. They caught the Son of Sam because his car got ticketed on the street near a murder; I doubted very much that we were going to be that lucky.
    “He could have waited in the house, shot Matt, and made it out with no problem,” I said. “But he’s very conservative, not taking any chances.”
    Hank just nodded his agreement. “Yet opening the capsule seems to have provoked him, made him speed up his pace.”
    “I’m not so sure,” I said. “George Myerson yes, but Matt might be different. He might be angry at Matt for today’s article, or he might be afraid that Matt will uncover something about him. Problem is, we won’t know until we know.”
    I left Hank at the scene to supervise the officers on-site as well as those canvassing the neighborhood and then went back to the station to interview Matt. He was sitting alone