26
Adam struggled to keep his eyes open during the new task force meeting. Many of the people present were hearing the information being presented for the first time, and their outrage at the travesties being committed against the men and women in their own community was palpable.
But none of this was new information for him. Nothing earth-shattering had been discovered during the night.
No one confessed in return for a plea deal, although to be fair, it didn’t sound like the prosecutor was offering anything.
And with the evidence from the microSD card, there would be no difficulty getting warrants for files, documents, computers, and records. The forensic accountants would be busier than they’d ever been before.
The meeting lasted two hours.
Gabe had even nodded off once.
The captain hadn’t been pleased that Sabrina hadn’t been in attendance, but no one had told Adam to ask her, and after sitting through it, he was glad. She hadn’t missed anything.
Claire Tollison waved him over. “Hey,” he said. “I’m glad you’re on this. You’ll be a great fit.”
“Thanks. I’m so excited.” She grinned, then frowned. “I mean, it’s awful. Of course.”
“But it’s a fabulous opportunity for you,” Adam said. “That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
She nodded. “Thanks for understanding.”
“No problem. Any news on our dead guy?” He’d been hoping for some sort of identification. Tox screen. Anything.
Claire shook her head. “Sorry. I can send you the report if you’d like. There’s not much to see. He wasn’t high. Wasn’t drunk. His prints aren’t in the system. We’re running DNA to see if there are any matches, but you know how long that can take.”
Weeks if they were lucky. Months was the more likely time frame.
“He had a couple of pictures, a Breeze transit card, and sixty bucks in his wallet. No change in his pockets. No keys either.” Her frustration was evident. “I’ve reached out to a buddy in Atlanta who is trying to use the Breeze card to see if he can track down where this guy has been in Atlanta. But it’s not like you can use Atlanta’s rail system to get to Carrington. It’s like he just appeared in the dressing room and opened fire.” Her expression lifted a little. “I did get the video from the mall that night. Finally. They sent it over late yesterday, so I’m going to try to find him coming into the mall and see if we can figure out where he came from.”
Solid police work. Sometimes that was all it took.
“Sounds good. Let me know if I can help.”
“Will do.”
Thirty minutes later, Adam finally made it back to his desk.
How was it possible to have over eighty emails in his inbox when he’d cleared it yesterday before going home?
He scanned the list. Most of them could wait. A few from family members or friends who wanted to see if he could give them an inside scoop on the scandal rocking Carrington today.
Ah. Sabrina had sent him an email last night. He opened it and read her brief message.
“You don’t look happy.” Anissa stood beside his desk.
“Neither do you.”
“I’m not, but you go first.”
“Okay. I have an email from Sabrina. Her mother was going to stop by for a visit this morning.”
“This would be the same mother we considered to be a suspect in the attempts on Sabrina’s life?”
“The same.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I. Now it’s your turn.” He kept scanning his inbox while he waited. Anissa wasn’t one to overshare. Maybe if he didn’t make eye contact she would spill whatever had her shorts in a twist this morning.
“Ugh. I’m fine. Just tired. I came in to beg the captain to let me help, but he says I’m still on administrative leave.”
“You know his hands are tied. It will only take another couple of days to get you cleared enough to come back to desk duty. Go home and get some more sleep.”
“I will, but the captain told me to take Gabe with me and Gabe won’t leave.”
And there was the problem. He kept scanning through his email, but Anissa was still standing there. What was she expecting him to do? “Where’s Ryan? Between the two of you, I think you should be able to force him to leave. He’s so tired he’s barely functioning as it is.”
He clicked on the email from Claire Tollison. She’d included the autopsy report and the photographs of the contents of their dead guy’s wallet.
That picture . . .
He clicked on the picture.
Fatigue fled.
He grabbed his phone and dialed Sabrina’s number.
“What are you doing?” Anissa asked.
He held up one hand. “Come on, come on. Pick it up.”
Nothing.
“Adam”—Anissa leaned over and got in his face—“what’s going on?”
He showed Anissa the photograph. “This was in the guy’s wallet.”
“The guy I shot?”
“Yes.”
“So?”
“I’ve seen this picture before.”
“Where?”
“In Sabrina’s living room.”