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It took them hours, but by that afternoon, Bailey had a good idea of who Glen Washington was. She had prison records, parole records, and had spoken to his supervisor at the Finley Creek Parks and Recreation department.
He hadn’t been able to tell her much. Glen Washington was assigned to work on crew four, but the assistant supervisor of that crew had been one of the victims of the storm.
That route wasn’t going to lead anywhere.
Clay had taken Jeff and Jeremy and coordinated with two of the Finley Creek officers to serve a warrant on Washington’s apartment in Boethe Street.
The man hadn’t been there. Or at his job or anywhere else neighbors had said to check.
Not that neighbors on Boethe Street kept tabs on each other.
Someone had suggested looking up a local handyman named Bob something or rather. Apparently, he and Glen had had altercations recently.
Bailey was trying to identify Bob in more detail.
There were a lot of Bobs in Finley Creek.
Clay walked by where she was working twenty minutes after two and dropped a familiar deli bag on her desk. “Eat, honey.”
“Did you?” He’d been doing stuff like this all day. She hadn’t missed Veri’s smirk. But the older woman didn’t have room to talk.
Bert was waiting for her in the lobby. He’d parked himself there an hour ago and was waiting until Veri’s shift ended at three. Something had been mentioned about taking Veri shopping. Her bedroom had been one of the rooms destroyed in her home. She’d had a few things in her clothes dryer that had survived, but Veri was a lady who liked clothes.
And Bert wanted Veri.
Now things were starting to make sense to her.