Crimes of Memory (A Detective Jackson Mystery) Read Free Page B

Normally, he would have taken a dozen photos by now, but in the dark it seemed pointless. The medical examiner would set up bright work lights and get better images.
    Jackson reached up and took Cooper’s ID from the officer. State-issued, but not a driver’s license. Remembering the bike, Jackson stood and turned. Leaned against the wall between two units, the bike was an older model that had taken a beating. The rack over the back tire held a backpack. The assailant hadn’t taken either the bike or the pack, so it seemed unlikely robbery had been the motive. A sense of dread washed over Jackson. Unless the witness who’d called in the body had blood on him and they found him soon, this homicide wouldn’t be easy like he’d hoped.
    “Here’s his wallet. It was in his front pants pocket.” The officer hadn’t moved from his post.
    The canvas wallet was so thin it made Jackson sad. He opened it to find seven dollars, a Social Security card, a picture of a woman in her twenties, and a key. The name on the back of the photo was Jane, dated 1998. He wondered if she’d be recognizable now.
    Headlights illuminated the scene and Jackson breathed a sigh of relief. The medical examiner’s van drove slowly toward them between the buildings and stopped about thirty feet away, welloutside the crime scene tape. Maybe they would still be able to process a footprint. Jackson was glad the officers hadn’t driven their vehicles into the storage area.
    A thought hit him. “Was the gate unlocked when you got here?”
    “Yes.” The stocky officer chuckled. “I sure didn’t climb the fence.”
    Whoever discovered the body must have left the gate open. Were they a renter here? Or had the killer left the gate open on the way out? More important, had Cooper left it open on the way in?
    Rich Gunderson, the medical examiner, climbed out of the van. Dressed in all black, his face floated like a pale ghost in the dark. Jackson noticed he’d cut off his gray ponytail. Gunderson was probably looking for a job, now that the state had lost funding for his position. As the ME stopped next to the body, Joe Berloni, a short, stout crime scene technician, joined them. Jackson was disappointed not to see Jasmine Parker, who usually attended suspicious deaths, but Joe was competent and pleasant to work with.
    The rain started again as Jackson filled them in. “The victim is Craig Cooper, according to his ID. He has a neck wound, likely made by a knife, and is still a little warm. No self-defense wounds.”
    “Do you still need me to do this?” Gunderson was always a little testy, but his pending layoff was making him bitter too.
    Jackson ignored it. “There’s no weapon in the immediate vicinity.” He glanced at the patrol officer for confirmation.
    “I walked the length of this corridor and didn’t see anything.” The uniformed man had stepped back to let the crime scene people set up lights and evidence trays.
    “What’s behind the property?” Jackson nodded toward the far end.
    “A fence, then a field, then more buildings. Likely a business.” The officer clicked his flashlight on. “Should I begin a wider perimeter search?”
    “At least along the edge of the field. We’ll get out here again tomorrow when we have more light.”
    The officer took off toward the back of the property, and Jackson turned to see a slim figure slipping past the ME van. Detective Lara Evans. Even in the dark, he recognized her small, muscular build.
    “Hey, Jackson. I went to the tavern to find the guy who called in the body, but they said he left. What can I do to assist?”
    “Go ask the owners if Craig Cooper rents a unit here.” Jackson glanced at the overhead door on the nearby storage unit and saw it was padlocked. “Then get the key if they have one.”
    While he waited for Evans to return, Jackson stepped toward the nearby bicycle. He pulled off the bungee cord and lifted the nylon backpack, surprised at how heavy it was. He peered