Taking the Highway Read Free

his eyebrows. “And?”
    “He’s dead.”
    “Imagine that,” Andre said. “A corpse in the disincorporated.”
    The Jeffs groaned. Danny’s eyebrows hooded his eyes. “Do you have to do that every time?”
    “It’s funny every time.”
    “It wasn’t funny once.”
    Andre nodded, hands in pockets. Danny found everything in the world hilarious except his job. He neither bitched nor bragged about being a cop. Danny and the job were one single thing. He was a homicide cop the same way he was male, or Italian, or fifty. It was simply a biological fact, a part of him too obvious to be commented on. Some people found Danny’s no-nonsense attitude off-putting, but to Andre it was a source of enormous comfort. Danny’s resemblance to a bad-tempered bulldog made him the kind of man who might resent tall, handsome, easily-promoted young detectives. Instead, he’d made a point of choosing Andre as his squad partner and bringing him home for dinner once a month.
    Andre followed Danny as he inspected the quadrangle of holo cameras set in and around the overgrown island in the center of the cul-de-sac, where Delandra and the Jeffs had disappeared into a gap in the long grasses. The drying stalks hissed in a gust of wind. Outdoor crime scene. An automatic pain in the ass with all of nature working against the evidence.
    He tapped Danny’s shoulder. “By the way, you owe me about three hundred bucks.”
    “I’m sure the captain would love to sign for that.”
    “Forget the money. How about a ride home tonight?”
    Danny laughed and stared at Andre’s lapel. “You need to give that fourth crap a rest.”
    Andre glanced at his lapel, noticed the official fourthing ID that still hung there, and shrugged. “I’m on flex,” he said.
    “Flex still means available, Sergeant.”
    “I’m available.” He didn’t say more. Didn’t have to. They’d had this conversation too many times. He held a hand under his nose. “God, the zone stinks. So, who called this in?”
    “Couple of kids.”
    “Around here?”
    “I’m sure they were on their way home from Little League.” Danny adjusted a camera that didn’t need adjusting. “I have techs on the trace, but it’s one of those prepaids the school drug dealers use.”
    “Lots of other people use them too.”
    “Vocal stress puts the median age at eleven and a half. You want to hear it?” Danny touched his datapad without waiting for an answer.
    Andre heard the smooth, “Nine-one-one,” and then the squeal of a frightened but excited kid, “There’s a dead guy on Pinest! He’s in the grass and all blood and his eyes open!” There was the mumble of another nearby voice, no words, just an insistent tone, then the first kid again. “Shut up, man! We didn’t do nothing and I don’t want a body laying here all dead and stuff.”
    Can’t argue with that, Andre thought. “Can tech enhance the second voice?”
    “That’s the voice after they enhanced it. On the original there was just a pause then the first kid answering.”
    “Sounds like he lives here somewhere.” Andre looked at the dark houses.
    “I have three units working the neighborhood with their comms listening for a voice match, but zoners watch the vee, they know that trick.” Danny shrugged. “It was a slow day so overwatch tasked a satellite in this area within twelve minutes of the call—”
    “Why so long?”
    “Had to figure out ‘Pinest’ meant Pinecrest and they only got it because the techs nailed the cell tower. Anyway, from space we could see this guy face down in the grass and thermal had him at room temp.”
    “Not even a room.”
    “Yeah. That one is funny every time. Anyway, I had the area sealed in another fifteen and then I sat waiting for you for an extra thirty-three minutes.”
    Andre spread his hands. “Delandra isn’t done yet, you know. I’d have been standing right where I am anyway until—”
    “About now.” Delandra rose and picked her way through the grass.