Be Mine Read Online Free PDF Page A

easy,” Sydowski said. “I saw you last night
after you’d finished. You ran after Cliff, chased after him to the elevator.”
    Beamon listened for a question.
    “What was that about?”
    “I just wanted to see if he was up for a beer.” Sydowski’s eyes
traveled all over Beamon, absorbing his body language and his eyes.
    “What was Cliff’s demeanor like?”
    Beamon shrugged and said it was fine.
    “I noticed you were in the hall for a minute or two. What did you
and Cliff talk about?”
    “What did we talk about?”
    “Yes. Your last conversation with him. What did he say? What was on
his mind when he left the detail last night?”
    “He was going out with Molly. That’s why he didn’t have time for a
beer.”
    “That it? That’s all you talked about? He didn’t mention any
problems, or beefs with anybody?”
    “No. I just don’t know who or why anyone would do this.”
    Sydowski stared at Beamon.
    “It might be better if you took some time off.”
    “No, I just can’t.”
    “Okay, why don’t you go back over all your cases? Think of anyone
you took down who had it in for Hoop. Anybody who made threats, anybody who
wanted to take a run at you. Think you can do that?”
    Beamon nodded.
    Sydowski stood to his full height, drawing himself up until his
shadow fell over Beamon. “And you better damned well tell me now if Cliff was
into anything.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “You know what I mean. No one was tighter to him than you and Molly
Wilson, so if you know something you damn well tell me now, because I’m going
to find out. I usually do, Ray.”
    “Jesus. You know that Cliff was a Boy Scout,” he said. “And I--”
    Sydowski tuned his radar to its maximum and wouldn’t release Beamon
from his concentration, taking in his face, his bruised knuckles. “Want to go
in an interview room and tell me what’s on your mind?”
    “No, it’s not that. It’s--” Beamon looked at Hooper’s empty desk and
chair, the notes Hooper had scribbled on his calendar about court dates, 49er
games. “It’s like, this didn’t happen. This isn’t real ...”
    Sydowski let the silence play for a while, giving Beamon the chance
to fill it. Finally, he placed his hand on Beamon’s shoulder. “If you want to
tell me something, you call me. Anytime. Understand?”
    “Yes.”
    “Excuse me.” Turgeon finished her call and indicated she needed a
private moment. They went downstairs to the cafeteria where she opened her
notebook.
    “I spoke with the M.E., Crime Scene, and Ballistics. The full
autopsy will be completed tomorrow, that’s when they’ll recover any rounds from
the body.”
    “What about the round in the wall?”
    “They got that but it’s badly damaged,” Turgeon said. “They need
more time. All they can confirm at this stage is that it’s a .40 cal.”
    “A .40?” Sydowski repeated.
    Worry crept into the corners of Turgeon’s eyes and she lowered her
voice to a whisper. “Not just a .40. It looks like it could be an SXT Talon,
180-grain. The exact type issued to every cop on the force.”

SIX

     
    It was late afternoon when Tom left
Molly’s apartment and returned to the San Francisco Star .
    The newsroom was humming.
    He enjoyed a small private victory. An intern was now fused to the
police radios. That’s better, he thought. Editors and reporters were working at
their keyboards or taking notes over the phone while news flickered from TVs on
overhead shelves, harmonizing with clatter as the first deadline loomed, along
with Irene Pepper.
    She was making her rounds, clipboard in hand, gathering story
updates for the editors’ news meeting to decide tomorrow’s edition. Spotting
Tom, she raised her taut chin, signaling that she was still smarting from their
episode over the scanners.
    “What’ve you got?”
    “I spoke to Molly.”
    “Good. I’ve been trying to reach her. How’s she doing?”
    “She’s shaken up pretty good. I took her home.”
    “I’ll call her