“So, head straight to Lance’s house?”
Mitch rubbed his brow. “Let me run the meeting with Doris past Sarge first. We do need to figure out something with the dog, though. Having that house key should go a long way with the boss in avoiding a warrant and the red tape that goes with it.”
Mitch made the call and was told to proceed. They needed to find out everything they could about Lance Crenshaw and if there was a reason anyone wanted to kill him or Sunny Montag.
Devon jerked his chin toward Mitch. “What’s Lance’s address again?”
“Hang on. I’ll check my notes.” Mitch flipped through his notepad. “Okay, cut west to Drayton and skirt along the park. It’s four blocks north of East Gaston on East Taylor. Hang a left, and the house should be on the right.”
“Got it.” Devon continued on as Mitch studied the notes about Lance that he’d taken earlier. Then Devon clamped on the brakes so fast he didn’t have time to yell a warning. They both nearly hit the windshield as Devon spun the wheel to the left. “What the hell, jackass!”
Mitch’s head slammed into the passenger-side window during the hard turn. He grunted then yelled to Devon. “Look out!”
Devon braced for impact with the oncoming car, but luckily, it zigged as they zagged. The cruiser jumped the curb, flew over the sidewalk, and ended up in the park. Fortunately, not a single tourist was on that stretch of sidewalk. Both men jumped out, and as Mitch ran, he looked around to make sure no bystanders were hurt. The man who had stumbled out onto the street only feet from the nose of their car grunted something inaudible as he flailed his arms wildly.
“Sir, sir! What’s wrong?” Mitch asked.
The man stiffened, arched his back, and fell face-first to the asphalt. Tourists in the park screamed out while others caught everything on their cell phones.
“Jesus, Mitch!” Devon yelled for the crowd to stay on the sidewalk while he ran to the cruiser and called 911. “This is Detective Devon Rue, and we need a bus to the intersection of Drayton and East Hall Street immediately. We’ve got a man down in the street, either dead or damn near. Can’t tell what his injuries are yet. Get some foot soldiers out here too. We need crowd control, and the street has to be blocked off.” Devon ended the call and rushed to Mitch, who was already kneeling at the man’s side. “Here’s some gloves.”
After stretching the gloves over his hands, Mitch carefully rolled the man over. The man’s face was covered in blood, likely due to a broken nose from the impact with the street. With two fingers against the man’s carotid artery, Mitch felt for a pulse then shook his head. “He’s gone.”
Less than three minutes later, the north fire station’s rescue vehicle arrived, and three EMTs leapt out. “What have we got?”
“A dead man,” Mitch said. “Apparently drugged up on something since he walked right into the street in front of our cruiser, flailing like a madman.”
Two squad cars squealed to a stop, blocking traffic on both sides of Abercorn Street. Officer Penny ran to the scene. “What do you need, Detectives?”
Mitch scanned their surroundings. “Cordon off the street at the nearest intersections, then get Forensics and Tapper’s crew out here ASAP. We’ve got a real problem on our hands.”
Devon blew out a long breath. “Do you think they’re even finished at the park?”
“No clue, but whatever this is”—Mitch pointed at the dead man—“is quickly getting out of control. We have too many things on our plate right now. We need to search Lance’s house, take the dog to Doris’s place, speak to the cameraman who was working with Sunny, and that doesn’t even take into account the fact that Tapper and the forensic guys are going to need help. It’s time to call Sarge and get some other people to pitch in.” Mitch made the call to his sergeant and told him the latest news even though he’d likely already heard about it.
Royce listened as Mitch explained the situation. “I’ll call in Prentice and Bloom to help out. They can take over your scene, and you and Devon can continue to Mr. Crenshaw’s house. Find out whatever you can there as far as clients and what he was currently working on. Get the dog out of the home, and then go find that cameraman who was working with Sunny. We need to know when he saw her last. I’ll also push the BOLO out farther for her car. We need to know where this latest victim was coming from and where he was going to. Damn it. Every victim was on foot, so that makes tracking their last known location even tougher.” After more curse words, Royce told Mitch to leave the scene as long as plenty of patrol units were on site, and he would take care of everything else. “I’m going to make one additional call and get some advice.”
“To whom?”
Royce let out a frustrated groan. “I need to call the FBI.”