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COMBS LEANED HIS FOREHEAD against the glass in the hotel foyer door. The icy surface was a relief after the hothouse warmth of the manager’s office. The several cookies he’d eaten to quiet his stomach instead turned to cement in his gut, and he hoped they wouldn’t end up splattered on his shoes.
Doty and Gonzales finished with the Greens, and quizzed other guests, but nobody knew anything. They found a few illegal dogs, as Mrs. Green had said. A Chihuahua in one room, three Toy Poodles in another, a wirehaired mutt, two cats and a Greyhound in a third—all clearly killer dogs. What a colossal waste of time.
A tapping on the glass startled Combs. Gonzales hooked a finger, and Combs straightened and felt his back crack as he hurried back inside. “What?”
“A few more lap mutts, but that’s all.” Gonzales yawned. “Sorry.”
Combs yawned back. Everyone was exhausted. “This weather, folks want to hunker down under the covers and blast some no-brainer TV show. It’s only cops and killers out in this mess.” Combs debated another cup of coffee to wash the old shoe taste from his mouth. His stomach gurgled. He dismissed the notion.
Doty strode toward them, buttoning her long coat. She growled into her phone around a fresh wad of gum, spearmint this time since she couldn’t find clove. “You get this message, call me back ASAP. Screw weather excuses, I need answers now. Don’t make me call you again.” She disconnected, still scowling. “Thoughts?”
“Lots of ‘em,” Combs said. “All profane.”
“Talk and walk.” Gonzales moved off, and Doty and Combs followed. The little man couldn’t stand still. Pacing helped Combs work out problems, too, but he was so tired he resented the request.
“Five casualties. What’s the commonality?” Doty started the conversation. “Your mom, dog lady, bus driver, doc-in-the-box by the dumpster. Now April on ice.” Recited facts stripped the victims of any humanity. Statistics, numbers, faceless puzzle pieces to manipulate and solve the riddle.
Combs used the same technique. It forced you to maintain distance. Emotion clouded judgment. But shit, he didn’t want distance, not with Mom. He used that pain to razor through the fog.
“Commonality?” Gonzales held up his palms. “Steven. He’s the connection to Combs’s mom, the body at the mall, and April.”
“Okay, but what about the dog lady at the park? And the doctor?” Doty asked, popping her gum.
“September called the dog trainer to track Steven, so it’s still Steven. It all comes down to the boy, or something to do with the boy.”
“Duh.” Doty’s sarcasm was born more of frustration than anger. “The perps kidnapped the kid. Let’s come up with something we don’t already know.”
“But that wasn’t why Mom was killed. April called the radio station because the boy went missing. That was before the first shooting, before April got snatched.” Combs congratulated himself on taking a page from Doty’s playbook and keeping his tone even.
“If September took Steven, she’d be out of town by now. The roads didn’t close until a couple hours after he supposedly got lost.” Gonzales increased his pace, reached the end of the hallway and turned. “No, I think September has something the killers want, and they kept April to make September comply.”
That was the same general thought he’d discussed with Uncle Stan. “Meanwhile, Steven and his dog boarded HART-land bus to Star Mall with the bus driver, and she was killed when Steven was taken.”
“Why was the kid taken? Killers already had April.” Doty’s yawn exposed an impressive cud.
“April wasn’t cooperating? September didn’t produce results fast enough?” Gonzales smoothed his mustache and loosened his tie. “Upping the ante.”
“Then shoot April? They meant to kill her.” Combs didn’t buy it. “That’s knowledge not in evidence. Unless this is personal and the bad guys have insider info, they’d figure September would risk everything to save her sister, and even more with a nephew at stake.” He thought for a minute. “September refused to work for them, and went looking for Steven instead. So they got to him first to arm-twist September.”
“Makes sense.” Gonzales headed back to the lobby.
Doty kept stride. “Sure, that scans. And once they had the kid, they didn’t need April, especially if she foot dragged, too. Easier to haul and hide a kid than a grown woman. Wonder if they threatened to kill April?” She buttoned her coat. “Bet that’s why she called her sister’s phone, checking to see if April answered.” Doty turned to Combs. “Still no answer on her cell?”
“She’s either ignoring my calls, turned off the phone, or ran out of juice. At least she cleared her messages. Now it goes to voicemail every time." He made a note to call Pike and see what he’d found out about the Dorfman kid. It bothered him that his partner hadn’t checked in.
Doty pulled on gloves and Gonzales did the same. “City’s turned into a friggin’ morgue. Nobody’s in office, I can’t get any answers. The PD might as well be shut down.” She sucked her teeth. “Still need details about Pottinger. Can’t see how he’s connected to this mess other than he landed on Childress’s back porch.” She turned to Combs. “You missed most of the press conference. Turns out he’s some sort of researcher, but nobody offered any details. Maybe he was a Frankenstein that needed killing.” She gave an exaggerated shiver, mocking the words.
Combs stopped dead and stared hard at the two detectives. “But he is connected. I didn’t get the chance to tell you. Pottinger was Steven’s doctor. So it still points back to the kid.”
