The Silent Boy (Emma McPherson Book 1) by A.J. Flynn (early reader books .txt) 📗

that Colleen and their circumstances in general were just as much to blame as he was. Hell, he didn’t even have a record; there was no reason for them to think he’d changed all of a sudden.

Having reached this point of view, he began to feel more calm until he finally drifted off into a troubled sleep.

XXI

The office was fairly full when McPherson got back. There was a suppressed sense of excitement in the room, a lot like the last few minutes before a horse race.

She had spent the last few hours talking with garage owners and learned exactly nothing. She was hoping Garret and Fichte may have had better luck with their photos.

There wasn’t any mistaking the feeling of joyousness in the air was she walked through the door. Garrett spotted her first and said, “Here she comes now.”

“What is it?” McPherson asked as she joined the group.

“We think our man bought himself some tires,” Fichte said in his soft voice. “At least this guy matches our description. The State Patrol found the spot where he bought them out in Helter.”

“Did the man who sold them identify the photo?”

“They’re showing it to him as we speak. We’ll hear back before long, but it looks fairly certain.”

“How about the shoe repairman? Did he recognize him?”

“He thinks so, but he’s not one hundred percent sure. Says the photo must be real old, and after all, Lieutenant, we need to obtain positive proof.” It was Garret who spoke, of course, but McPherson let the sarcasm slide.

“I bet he’ll remember him when he sees him, but he wants to be sure before he commits himself,” Fichte added. “I figured once we receive confirmation from Helter and make the arrest, he’ll be sure enough.”

“You ready to go get him?” McPherson asked.

“The tax payers will love us tomorrow. They’ll put us up on a pedestal for at least an hour.”

Nobody bothered to answer Garrett’s remark. Every other line of work had at least one person like him lurking around, and there wasn’t any good reason why the police force should be an exception.

“We’re going to have one hell of a time proving he had a reason for being out in South Pines,” Fichte observed.

McPherson’s forehead furrowed. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Everything we have on him is circumstantial. We’ll likely need a confession.”

“You could ask him politely,” Garrett sneered.

“Did Aiden report on the caller at the Johnson’s yet?” McPherson asked. Ignoring Garrett was growing into a habit.

“He talked to Mrs. Johnson. She denied anyone ever came to her house, but doesn’t seem like the woman across the street would be lying. She didn’t say Mrs. Johnson had a boyfriend, she said Johnson came home. The way it sounds she was expecting company around that time, so it makes perfect sense that she would be looking out the window,” Fichte answered.

“The way Aiden tells it, the woman was under the impression that she was giving Johnson an alibi,” Garrett added.

“It had to have been him. I try my best to keep an open mind, but I feel like I could believe anything about that Johnson woman,” McPherson admitted, then continued, “and he’s not a heck of a lot better, but maybe we can use their personalities against them.”

The detectives looked confused and waited for her to explain.

“Instead of arresting him, why don’t we have someone go out and ask him to come down to headquarters. Tell him we need his help. No doubt he’s conceited enough to believe it. Once he’s on his way, have someone stop by with a search warrant to give the house a good shake through. You’re sure to find something.”

“All right. So who does what?” Garrett asked.

“You and Fichte take the search. You two have had more experience, and, besides, think how pleased Detective Aiden will be when he books his first murder.”

Their talk was interrupted by an abrupt summons from the desk office. They all hurried over.

“What is it now?” Garrett asked.

“Another assault out in South Pines.”

“My God,” Fichte sighed, “who now?”

“Mrs. Hayley Valentine. Someone beat her up. A Dr. Blackwell posted an emergency call for an ambulance and rushed her out to the county hospital. The first report says she’s in bad shape.”

McPherson turned to Fichte, her face expressionless. “You and Garrett take care of the identification and warrant. I’m going to see about Mrs. Valentine.”

It was a direct order, and nobody dared to question it.

McPherson jogged to the garage. Taylor was chatting with a mechanic, but cut it short. One look at Emma’s face told him something was going on, and within a few seconds he was in the car and ready to take off.

“The county hospital emergency entrance, and make it fast.”

Taylor wasted no time on questions. He was never asked to speed unless it was necessary.

The lights and sirens helped, but there was always a field of heavy traffic in the downtown area. Most of the cars made their best effort to pull to the side, but sometimes it just wasn’t possible, so it took a lot of skill to weave in and out without mishap.

Near the outskirts of the business district, traffic was starting to thin out, and Taylor began to relax a little. “What happened?” he asked.

“Someone assaulted Mrs. Valentine. It sounds like she’s in bad shape.”

Taylor’s face hardened.

“Bastard,” he muttered under his breath.

Nothing else was said, and when the sign marking off the hospital zone entered into view, Taylor turned off the siren, but left the lights flashing. He pulled up sharply along the emergency entrance, and McPherson was out and running before the car had even stopped.

She flashed her credentials at the front desk and was referred to Dr. Blackwell, on the third floor.

The elevator was slow, like most hospital elevators. They made them that way because of the heart patients, she had been told. Heart patients or not, she still wished she would have taken the stairs.

When the elevator finally made it to the third floor she made