Baltimore 03 - Did You Miss Me? Read Free

the university for the girl’s parents’ info. Ford’s mother is with the State’s Attorney’s office, right?’ Joseph asked, as if he didn’t know exactly where she worked.
    His father took a moment before answering. ‘Yes, Joseph,’ he said in a way that let Joseph know his coy move hadn’t fooled the old man. I never could .
    ‘I’ll call Grayson.’ It was through one of his brother’s court cases that Joseph had met Daphne in the first place. ‘He’ll track her down.’
    ‘I already called Grayson, and got his voicemail, too. Seems they’re both in court. It’s that big trial that’s been in the news.’
    ‘The Millhouse boy,’ Joseph said flatly. He’d been following the case, Daphne’s first big solo trial since she’d been promoted to Grayson’s old job. Reggie Millhouse, a high school senior, was accused of murdering a middle-aged married couple whose Mercedes had broken down on the side of a lonely road.
    The case was top of the news because the married couple was black – and Reggie had ties to a local white supremacist group.
    ‘The news said that the jury’s reached a verdict,’ his father said. ‘City’s gonna pop.’
    Because the evidence was mostly circumstantial and tempers raged on both sides. Whichever way the jury decided, there would be an outcry. Outside the courthouse was not the safest place to be today. Inevitably, that’s where the protesters would gather.
    If Daphne’s son had disappeared on the eve of an important verdict . . .
    ‘You’re quiet,’ his father murmured. ‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’
    ‘It could be coincidence.’ Joseph prayed it was. ‘I’ll head over there, wait for his mother and Grayson to come out of court.’ He started walking to his Escalade. ‘Let’s not borrow trouble until we know for sure that the kids are really missing.’
    ‘That’s wise. I have Kim’s car’s make and license plate. She visited Ford here at the office for lunch a few times, so it was on file at the guard shack. Her full name is Kimberly MacGregor and she drives a ten-year-old Toyota Corolla. Blue.’
    ‘Fine. I’ll call you if . . . Wait.’ Joseph turned, looking back to the five cars parked between Ford’s SUV and the alley into which the homeless man had gone a few minutes before. Joseph started to run, abruptly stopping at the last vehicle in line.
    ‘What is it?’ his father demanded. ‘Joseph?’
    Joseph stared at the blue Corolla. There was a dark brown smear on the passenger door handle. Dried blood. Heart sinking, he crouched by the door where he saw two more smears, hand-shaped, woman-sized.
    ‘Read me the license plate number.’ His father did and it was a match. ‘I found the girl’s car.’ The blood he’d keep from his father, for now. ‘I’ll call you when I know—’ A shrill scream from within the alley cut him off.
    ‘What was that? Joseph, answer—’
    Joseph ran to the alley entrance. The homeless man was running in the opposite direction, hands empty. Something had scared him so badly that he’d dropped his sack.
    ‘Call you back,’ Joseph said curtly, dropping his phone into his pocket as he started after the man. But halfway into the alley Joseph stopped short.
    A pair of feet wearing bright red socks stuck out from one end of a pile of flattened boxes, reminding Joseph ridiculously of the witch’s red shoes sticking out from under Dorothy’s house. Except the feet were big. A man’s feet.
    Grimly, he stepped around the pile of boxes, then let out a relieved breath. It wasn’t Daphne’s son. It wasn’t anyone Joseph knew. But the man was unquestionably dead, the cause of death most likely the slit across his throat that went ear to ear.
    Joseph swallowed hard. The victim’s head clung to his body by about two inches of flesh on the back of his neck. He’d seen his share of slit throats in the course of his career, but this one . . . it was damn near decapitation.
    No wonder the