Nickel City Storm Warning (Gideon Rimes Book 3) Gary Ross (most popular novels txt) 📖

of the mix. Give it to one of us and take us to the body. It’s already too late for fingerprint entry. We can’t simply put his finger on the screen. Conductivity stops after death. But if it’s facial recognition, we have a good shot at getting in. The software doesn’t work, though, if the eyes are closed. I know it sounds kind of ghoulish, but if we open his eyes and maybe put his glasses on...”

For a moment everyone stared at me without speaking.

“Kind of ghoulish?” Terry said.

“If we’re gonna go ghoul, it better be soon, before the face starts to change and rigor sets in,” Travis said. “Good thing it wasn’t a head shot.”

29

Having seen Lucy Bishop on Court Street and exchanged farewells and promises to call, we all retreated into silence for the brief ride from police headquarters to the Torrance Towers underground parking ramp. Pete drove and Ramos rode shotgun while Drea and I sat in the middle bucket seats. Our eyes met briefly. I couldn’t interpret the faraway look in hers. The silence was underscored by the soft jazz satellite station Pete had chosen.

With less than an hour until the reception, Pete backed into our designated space. Then Ramos and he got out to survey the area from our parking spot to the elevator. At the sound of an approaching engine, Pete closed the van door to keep Drea and me in our seats. Through the windshield, I watched a candy apple red Mustang whip into a slot several spaces closer to the elevator in the row across from ours. After a moment of revving, the engine shut off. Then Chelsea Carpenter, Randall Torrance’s old law school classmate and current partner, got out. Adjusting her sunflower-print cocktail dress and running a hand through her red hair, she started toward the elevator without looking back in our direction.

“Sweet wheels,” Pete said when he opened the door. “Beautiful engineering.”

“Dumping your dream van so soon?” I said. “If you’re talking about the car.”

He watched Carpenter walk for a moment. Then he grinned.

I climbed out and offered a hand to Drea. Forming a triangle around her, we moved toward the elevator, which we reached as the stainless steel doors slid open. We stepped in behind Carpenter, who turned and greeted us. I nodded in silent reply.

“An hour ago Randall called and told me there was a shooting at the library.” She bit her lip a moment. “He said you were there. I’m glad to see you’re all right.”

“I’d rather not talk about it,” I said.

“Of course.” Her luminous eyes focused on each of us for a second or two. “You all look so tired. I’m joining Randall for a drink with his father and Marlo before we go to the reception. If you decide to skip it, I can let them know.”

“I appreciate that,” I said. “We’ll be a little late, but everything is up to Drea.” I turned to my client, who said nothing and whose eyes were still unfocused. I looked at Carpenter again as the elevator bell dinged. She smiled at us and waved as she stepped out.

We continued to the seventeenth floor. While I was being questioned by a young detective named Baxter, Pete had called Yvonne and Cissy to clarify whatever they had heard on the news. Now, seeing us on the monitor, they opened the door and hugged Drea when we stepped inside. Cissy also embraced Ramos and held him for several seconds as Pete locked the door. Yvonne led Drea straight to her room.

When Yvonne returned to the living room, the sisters took turns asking us about the details of the shooting, whether Bishop would be okay, when they could call her, what else we knew about Carter John or the men who had been with him. As we had agreed back on Court Street, Pete did most of the talking, his always calming voice reassuring Yvonne and Cissy, preparing them for a request they might not like. When they seemed relieved, they turned to me.

“What now?” Yvonne asked.

“We go on out without Bishop,” I said. “Nothing has changed in our mission.”

“Except we’re down a man,” Ramos said. “I mean, a person.”

I nodded and looked at the sisters. “I said before that tonight would be late because of the reception. I figured you’d have to stay till nine-thirty, maybe ten. Now I’m asking you to stay later, maybe even all night.”

Yvonne and Cissy exchanged a look I thought hovered between surprise and annoyance.

“Won’t the recording system do the all-night monitoring?” Yvonne asked.

“It’s not that,” I said. “The Donatellos will be sending us a lot of information soon from the cell phone Carter John had in his pocket. Mark changed the settings so the phone is always on and will still get messages and alerts. We’re checking everything. Contacts, text messages, calendar, records of where he’s been. We need to go over who said what, dig up backgrounds, find out who has what number, and cross-reference the hell out of everything. That phone may hold the key to saving Drea’s life.”

“So we’re hacking?” Cissy said.

I shook my head. “Everything is above board. I have an Intellichexx account. We’ll call it up on two machines, Yvonne’s tower and my laptop. Pete has his own tablet and will run checks using his still active police ID. Matt and Mark use two other public records search companies and will be doing the same thing. We find something, we call them. If they find something, they call us.”

“What about sleep?” Cissy said.

“I’ll put fresh linen on my bed,” Pete said. “You ladies can take turns sleeping there, four or five hours at a time. G and I will do the same thing out here.”

“What about me?” Ramos asked.

“Manuel, you’re free to go,” I said. “You went above and beyond today. You helped Lucy keep it together better than I could have.”

He shook his head. “No, chief. That matón tried to hurt my friend. I want to