“Be careful.”
“I always am.”
“I’m serious,” Crosby said. “I don’t know what this woman is capable of or if she’s working with someone, but she’s already demonstrated her willingness to kill. Watch your back.”
Susan pulled away from the crowd. “Always do, boss. Don’t worry.”
“You need a partner on this one. Let me see what Chris and Bill are up to.”
Susan shook her head. “I said I got it.”
Before he could respond, she was jogging toward her car. It looked as though a new homicide investigation had begun.
3
Susan pulled up in front of Rebecca Hill’s apartment and saw the two White Plains police officers standing out front with the facilities manager. All three had their backs turned to the cold November wind screaming from west to east.
The apartment building was on Lake Street, just north of downtown. It was a ten-story brick structure that blended in with all the other brick apartment complexes that filled that section of the city. Rebecca lived on the fourth floor. Susan, the two officers, and the super took the elevator.
“We checked the parking lot, the garage, and a five-block radius in all directions,” one of the officers said. “No Civic.”
“Okay,” Susan said. “I’ll knock and announce. If she doesn’t answer, we go in. Are you guys ready?”
The officers nodded.
They stepped off the elevator and walked down the hall. The facilities manager—Juan, according to the name badge sewn onto his jacket—stayed back by the elevators. Susan stopped in front of a door that was identical to all the others and knocked.
“Rebecca Hill! This is the police. Open the door!”
They waited about ten seconds. Susan put her ear against the door and listened. Nothing. She motioned Juan over, and he pulled a set of keys from his jacket pocket. He slid the key into the lock, opened the door, and moved aside.
The apartment was a one bedroom, neat and decorated simply. White walls, beige carpet, beige tiles in the hallway and kitchen, furniture from IKEA. Nothing that screamed originality or wealth, but it held a warmth, nonetheless.
Susan and her backup quickly swept the place, moving from room to room, weapons drawn, focused.
It was empty.
“Glove up,” Susan said. “Let’s see what we can find.”
“Ten-four.”
Juan remained in the hall while the two officers retreated toward the entryway, allowing Susan to walk around. She put on her latex gloves as she looked at the pictures displayed throughout the space: friends, family, no sign of a husband or significant other. No kids. She picked up a framed photograph of an older woman, frail and thin, and figured it to be the mother or an aunt. Another frame held a photo of the same woman featured in other pictures around the place. Susan figured that was Rebecca. She was with a younger man, sitting together on a picnic table bench, arms around each other, smiling. The engraving on the frame read Brothers & Sisters: A Special Bond.
“Looks like she has a brother,” Susan called out. “Let’s get on that.”
“Okay,” an officer replied from behind her.
There was a small stack of books on the coffee table. Most of them were medical journals; a few romance thrillers poked out from the middle. Nothing appeared to be out of place. Cabinets were closed, doors were shut, as were drawers and cubbies. A small pile of mail sat unopened on the kitchen counter, and a closed laptop had been left on the couch. Susan pointed to the computer.
“Need this wrapped,” she said.
One of the officers nodded as he pulled a plastic evidence bag out of his pocket. “Yes, ma’am.”
She walked into the bedroom, and it was more of the same. White walls, queen bed with a white comforter, distressed white dresser and nightstand, a few scattered pictures. The bed was made.
Susan began opening the drawers and giving them a cursory search, but there were only clothes folded neatly, one kind of clothing for each drawer. She made her way to the nightstand. Inside, there was a book of crossword puzzles, a small notebook, and a black leather address book. The notebook appeared to contain names along with a schedule of specific medications and dates. The address book was an address book. Names, addresses, phone numbers, and emails.
“Let’s get these bagged too.”
Susan peeked into the closet, but there was nothing there that would tell her where Rebecca Hill was or how she could be involved in a trooper’s death. She retreated from the bedroom to go talk to the super, who was still out in the hall.
Juan looked to be in his forties. He had a thick black mustache that covered his upper lip and stubble where his beard would be if he let it grow in. His uniform seemed one size too big.
“Hi, Juan,” Susan said as she stepped out into the hall and held up her shield. “We haven’t properly met. I’m Investigator Susan Adler from the state police. I appreciate you helping us out today.”
Juan shrugged and smiled. “No problem. Police say open, I open. I don’t want no trouble.”
“How long have you been taking care of this building?”
“Fifteen years.”
“Wow, that’s a long time. Good for you.”
Juan’s chest puffed just a little. “Fifteen years, and we never had no major problems. No leaks, no heat problems in the winter, everybody got working AC in the summer. I keep the walkways clear from ice. Never a problem.”
“That’s great. How long has Rebecca Hill been living here?”
“I’d say about five years.”
“She a good tenant?”
“Sí. Never a problem. Always pay her rent on time. Never complain about anything. Nice lady. She give me a good tip for Christmas.”
“Do you know what she does for a living?”
“She’s a nurse.”
That would explain the medical books in the living room and the names and meds list she’d found with the address book.
“Does Rebecca live here with anyone?” Susan asked.
“No. She lives by herself.”
“Any boyfriends come and go?”
“Not that I noticed. Her mother and her brother come to visit on Sundays. Not every Sunday, but they come a lot and stay for the day.”
“Do you know their names?”
“The brother is David, but I don’t know the mother’s name. I just hear Miss Rebecca call the woman Mom. I think she’s sick. Cancer or something.”
Susan lowered her voice when a couple came out of an apartment down the hall and made their way toward the elevators. “We have reason to believe Rebecca might be in trouble. We’re thinking maybe she ran off. Do you know where she might go if she was in trouble?”
“I don’t know her like that,” Juan replied, wide eyed. “I just take care of the building, and we say hello when we see each other. That’s it.”
“I thought maybe you heard something over the years while you were working.”
“I don’t hear nothing.”
“You’re sure.”
He held up his right hand. “Hand to God. I swear.”
Susan dug into her pocket and came away with her business card. “Take my number. If you hear anything or she comes home, I need you to call me. Don’t tell her we were here. Just call me. It’s very important.”