Don't Lose Her Read Free Page B

private dick,” he finally said. It was a statement rather than a question, with a slight emphasis on “dick.”
    It is my policy not to answer rhetorical statements. Ask me a question, I’ll respond. Otherwise, I’ll wait you out. I stood silently.
    â€œWell, you’ve got a lot of pull, Mr., uh, Freeman,” he said as if he was already forgetting my name. “Word from up the line is that I should give you some cooperation in my own investigation. That’s breaking policy. You must have some connections.”
    I held to my own policy and waited for a question.
    The agent made a show of looking around me, up at the buildings across the street, around the corner on Narcissus where the crime scene techs were focused on something against the nearby curb. Finally, he gave in.
    â€œWhat can I answer for you, Freeman?”
    It was a legitimate question. I can answer questions.
    â€œI know you’re only a couple of hours into this,” I said, modulating my voice, purposely being deferential despite the fact that a very good friend of mine had apparently been abducted and thus was in imminent danger. But I knew where emotion fit into the profession­, and knew how not to show it.
    â€œI have no intention of getting in your way, or outguessing you, Agent Howard. The abducted judge is a close friend. I have worked for her husband for many years.”
    Howard did not nod or indicate in any way that he was listening. Maybe he had the same policy as I did in regard to statements.
    â€œThe husband, my friend, is the one with connections in high places. And he will be more comfortable if I’m his eyes on the street, following your investigation. I believe he will thus be more cooperative. And I believe that cooperation can only aid you in finding Judge Manchester unharmed.”
    Again, the agent looked up to the buildings across the street. He was going to offer an opinion, and I frankly didn’t care as long as he didn’t order me away. I said nothing and instead followed his sightlines to do a quick inventory.
    The second floor of the facing buildings appeared to be offices or simply storage space above the commercial stores on the ground level. The blinds on most of the windows were closed. Howard would have already had agents or assisting officers canvas those rooms to talk with anyone who may have seen something relevant.
    There was one PNC surveillance camera mounted on the west-side wall that appeared to be focused on the sidewalk, but it could have caught something in the street. The other was on the south corner of the building, again pointed down. Howard would have already ordered the confiscation of any video from both sources. But that could take time depending on how frequently they were monitored, where their feeds went, and whether the company that controlled them would be cooperative or ask for a warrant. Nothing happens as fast as it does on a television crime episode.
    The camera that was mounted on the traffic signal to the east was a better bet. It was a fairly new addition to South Florida law enforcement. The cameras were meant to capture a picture of the license plate of any vehicle that ran a red light; thus a violator could be ticketed for breaking the law even without an officer witnessing the act. The lawyers were still trying to overturn the use of such surveillance, saying it was somehow unconstitutional. If you break the law and no cop is there to see you, did you break the law? Some lawyers make money on such things.
    When I looked back at Howard, our eyes met.
    â€œWe’re doing the cameras,” he said. He’d been watching me. “We got the description of a white Chevy van and a plate from the traffic camera already. The plate came back to an elderly couple in Delray Beach who didn’t know what we were talking about until we showed them the bare plate-holder on the back of their Seville still parked in their driveway. The video