Closer Than You Think Read Online Free PDF Page B

hands. He’d never left a fingerprint he hadn’t meant to leave.
    When he got to the Jeep, he dropped a pen so that it rolled under her fender. He lowered himself to one knee, pressing a hand to his back for the benefit of anyone who might be watching, now or later. As he picked up the pen, he took the tracking device he’d brought from his coat pocket and slipped it under the fender.
    There. His phone would beep when she moved the Jeep. He didn’t care where she went while in the city. He wanted to know when she left the city to head his way. Because he had to kill her before she came back to the house.
    Miami, Florida, Monday 3 November, 9.30 A.M.
     
    Detective Catalina Vega placed the cup of colada on her boss’s desk and waited for the aroma to get his attention. The Cuban espresso was his weakness and the shop in Cat’s neighborhood made the very best.
    Lieutenant Neil Davies drew a deep, appreciative breath before looking up from his computer screen, his expression wary. ‘What do you want, Vega?’
    She flashed a grin as she put two smaller plastic cups on his desk and filled them with the thick, sweet brew. ‘What I always want. A promotion, a new ride, a swank office like yours.’
    Davies leaned back in his chair, looking around his office. It was barely larger than a coat closet, one side of his desk piled high with folders, each one an unsolved homicide.
    ‘Then I’d say you’re even crazier than I am,’ he said mildly. He tossed back the shot of espresso, then held the cup out for more. ‘What else do you want?’
    ‘This.’ She laid a photograph on his desk.
    ‘This is a wrecked car,’ he said slowly. ‘Why do you want a wrecked car?’
    ‘Because that’s the Prius that caused that four-car pile-up on I-75 yesterday morning.’
    His gaze jerked up to meet hers. ‘I take it you’re telling me that it wasn’t an accident.’
    ‘No, it was not. The garage techs found that both the steering and brakes had been tampered with. Either one would have resulted in an accident, but both together . . .’ She lifted a shoulder. ‘The car crossed the median, plowed into ongoing traffic, hit three cars as it spun out, then got slammed by a semi. The driver of the Prius died at the scene, her son died later. Four of the injured are in serious condition, the other two are critical.’
    Davies sighed. ‘It’s a tragedy, Cat, but not our case. Traffic Homicide is handling this. Why are you even involved? Let them do their job. You have your own caseload.’
    ‘Hear me out. Traffic already talked with the driver’s family. She’d bought the car only the day before. The title hadn’t been changed over yet. The previous owner was Faith Frye.’
    ‘I know her name. Where did I read it?’
    ‘In my report on the Shue homicide.’ She ran her finger down the stack of folders on his desk, pulling out the one she wanted and handing it to him. ‘Gordon Shue was the director of a women’s crisis center. They counseled victims of rape, incest and various cases of domestic violence. Four weeks ago he was shot in the chest as he was leaving his office, then again in the head. The woman standing next to him was his employee, Dr Faith Frye.’
    He sat back again, his eyes narrowing. ‘You’ve got my attention now. Go on.’
    ‘Frye gave me several leads on Shue’s killer – initially all of them were husbands or partners of their clients. I remember her touching a wicked-looking scar on her throat when she said it and so later I checked up on her. Four years ago she was attacked by one of her own clients – a sex offender on probation. He slit her throat. She almost died.’
    ‘Social work can be a dangerous business,’ Davies said quietly.
    The lieutenant’s wife was a social worker and he worried about her constantly, Cat knew. ‘I think your wife knows how to defend herself better than most.’
    ‘I know she does, because I taught her how.’ Davies closed the Shue file. ‘So how did Frye go