A bolt of panic shot through Evi. Eric knew almost as many patrol cops as he did firefighters. She hadn’t even thought about that when Kate told her she would see that extra patrols came through the neighborhood. Would the officers have been told to keep a special eye on the Burke house? Would they have been told why?
Evi hadn’t wanted to worry Eric over the note when she thought it might be connected to the Anders case. She had no intention of telling him anything about her connection to the reopened investigation of Ted Duffy’s murder. There was no need to burden him with her ancient past . . . unless that past could put her family in jeopardy.
The idea turned her stomach over and over. A vague note and a late night phone call didn’t constitute a threat, she tried to tell herself. That’s what the police would say. What would her husband say if he found out she was keeping these things from him? Would he be hurt? Would he be angry? He had worked so hard to gain her trust over the course of their relationship, and here she was hiding something that could be potentially dangerous to them.
“We’re going to need a bigger house,” he said, setting her tea on the counter in front of her.
Evi looked up, startled.
“You’re a lovely shade of pale green,” he said, with a sweet, soft smile as he came around the counter to wrap her up in his arms. “Looks like morning sickness to me.”
“I hope so,” Evi murmured, fighting tears.
She wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck and buried her face against his shoulder.
It all worked out for you . . .
34
“He came in out of the rain to use the bathroom,” Tippen said as they watched the security video. “Betrayed by his own bowels. It’s one for the anals.”
He chuckled diabolically as everyone else groaned at his play on words.
“What time was this?” Kovac asked, squinting at the television screen. Even with his glasses, the time and date stamp was squiggly.
“Five seventeen this morning at the SuperAmerica convenience store on Thirty-fourth Avenue, south of the Minnehaha Parkway,” Elwood said, pushing a pin with a red head into the map on the war room wall.
“You’re sure it’s him?”
“Looks like him,” Tippen said, referencing the photo on the wall. “Same hair, same beard. The clerk was dead certain. Said he acted shady.”
“Him and every other street twitch sneaking into a bathroom meant for paying customers,” Kovac said. “What do you think, Tinks?”
“I think this bearded lumberjack fad has to end soon, or I’m going to become a lesbian.”
“Is that supposed to be a threat?” Tippen asked, “Or a tantalizing glimpse into one of my favorite fantasies?”
Liska threw a piece of stale donut at him, hitting him in the forehead. “Not in front of the children, you disgusting pervert,” she returned without rancor.
Taylor was glaring at Tippen like a hungry guard dog, clearly unhappy with Tippen’s apparent lack of respect for the lady of the group.
“Don’t worry about Tinks, kid,” Kovac said. “She could turn Tippen inside out by the scrotum if she wanted to.”
“Don’t give me ideas,” Liska said. “I don’t have time to play. Let’s get back on point, please.”
“Second possible sighting at Oxendale’s Market, just down the street from the convenience store,” Elwood said, sticking another pin in the map. “A truck driver delivering produce thought he saw Krauss hopping out of a Dumpster behind the store. That’s two sightings, blocks apart, within an hour and a half of each other.”
Kovac scratched his head as he stared at the map. “He’s a long way from Rising Wings. What’s he doing on that end of town?”
“Maybe he’s from that area, knows his way around, is comfortable there,” Taylor speculated.
“It’s a risk. That’s a quiet residential area,” Kovac said. “He’s going to stick out more there than if he had stayed downtown.”
“But downtown is crawling with cops.”
“Maybe there’s somebody he wants to see before he splits town,” Tippen offered. “He’s working his way south. He’s got his pick of major highways from there. He can kiss an old flame good-bye and hit the road for anywhere.”
“The airport’s right there, too,” Taylor pointed out. “Who knows what he might be carrying for an ID. It won’t say Gordon Krauss, we can be sure of that. A shave and a haircut, and he’s past TSA as Joe Schmoe.”
Kovac nodded at Liska. “Fill them in on your deal.”
She got up and went to the map. “I’m looking for a man named Jeremy Nilsen who may have information related to my cold case. He lived next door to my victim at the time. His father and the victim had an ongoing beef. Your guy, Krauss, had Jeremy Nilsen’s ID.”
“And five others,” Tippen said. “Do you think he’s your guy?”
She shrugged. “I don’t have a current photo of Nilsen, but if it’s him, you should have gotten a hit on his prints. He’s ex-military.”
“Unless he’s been erased,” Tippen said, excited at the thought.
Kovac tossed a pen in the air and rolled his eyes. “Oh God, here come the conspiracy theories.”
Tippen pointed a finger at him. “If you think it doesn’t happen, my friend, you are doomed to an Orwellian future.”