“Thanks.”
“Any word?” Then she read her friend’s face and let it go. “OK, but anything you need. Anything.” Sympathetic enough not to push it, Parry focused on the prelim of Abigail Plunkitt. “Obviously small-caliber, single GSW, same POE as King’s. Based on his condition, I did a quick field test and see definite signs of residue from gunpowder. The lab will be more definitive, probably reveal some trace metals.”
“So, another close-range shot.”
“Bet on it.”
Nikki turned a 360, then tilted her head to examine the victim’s lap. “You’re going to find residue from lubricant on that Kindle’s screen.”
“Already have.”
Heat studied the condition of the body, whose bloating and discoloration spoke of a long passage of time. “What’s your ballpark on TOD?”
“Going out on a limb, Nikki, I’d say three, probably four days.”
“Same day as Lon King.”
“Pretty near.”
Heat turned to Detective Aguinaldo. “Guess we know why she was unreachable.”
“We checked her apartment, we checked her car, we checked her friends.”
Nikki reflected for a beat and said, “I guess we learned something then.” She left it at that. Inez would be chewing herself up; Heat didn’t need to add to the new detective’s own postmortem. “Let’s move on. What we need to find out now is whether Nathan Levy is the next victim, or our prime suspect.”
Detective Rhymer’s field report over the phone from Throggs Neck tipped the balance of that scale. “Damn near got myself creamed coming up here,” he said. “I’m driving on Schurz, about a block from Nathan Levy’s house, when this souped-up 450 comes barreling up the wrong side of the street at me. I swerved, and so did he at the last second, missing me by an inch. I made Levy as the driver and started working a three-pointer when the cruiser detailed to him blows past me running a hot code, nearly taking my rear bumper as a souvenir.”
Heat’s pulse quickened. Things are breaking, maybe I’ll finally get some answers, she thought. “How long ago was this?”
“By now, ten, no, eleven minutes. He led the blue-and-white out on the Neck and lured them into a cul-de-sac off Soundview Terrace. Levy chewed some lawn making his turn, but the unis got boxed. By the time they came out, he was a ghost. Local knowledge and a test driver—I guess you’re gonna end up with some Fast and Furious.” Nikki remembered Levy’s built-for-the-job physique and could picture him muscling that performance pickup anywhere he wanted, at any speed he chose. “Called in a BOLO, of course,” added the detective. “Could be anywhere by now, though.”
Thoughts bounced in Nikki’s head, and one of them settled in the clear. “Let’s update that BOLO. Radio in a Do Not Apprehend. If they spot him, have them maintain a tail. Just in case Levy is involved with Rook’s disappearance, he might lead us to him.”
“Copy that.”
“And the instant they spot him, I want to be notified. I want to be there, understood?”
Now that Levy looked good as a potential suspect, Raley and Ochoa were already busy shoveling deeper into his past. They were making calls, trying to run him for any jail time or arrests.
“While you’re at it, a guy who drives like that is going to have some moving violations,” said Heat once she got back to the station. “Run them—even parking tickets, now that I think of it. See what addresses he got pinched at. Maybe there’s a pattern to a neighborhood or borough where he hangs out.”
“On it,” said Raley.
Ochoa sucked his teeth. “So frustrating. If the databases were up, we could run this stuff in the time it took to print. Instead, we’re calling multiple jurisdictions and waiting for them to do hand searches.”
Heat fixed him with a firm glare. “Then that’s what we do, Miguel. We do whatever it takes.”