there?” There were lots of flashing lights up near the house.
“He is, sir.” Feretti nodded.
“You mind if I go through?”
“Thought you gave all this up?” The patrolman grinned. “The house is just up there on the left. It’s a bad scene in there.”
“I bet it is, Rob. Thanks.”
He was waved forward, around a short bend where there were two more blue-and-whites stationed, lights flashing, blocking the entrance to a drive. Feretti had radioed ahead and Hauck was letthrough. Just a few months ago he was in charge of these men. No way the fact that he was a civilian would change that now.
He drove between the stone pillars and down a long, curving driveway leading up to the large house. It was an impressive red-brick Georgian. Hauck parked at the far end of the circular drive. There was a heavy congestion of police vehicles and medical vans in front. In the months since he had left, he’d been back to the office only a couple times—once for the opening of the new first responders wing, and once for a retirement party for Ray Reiger, one of the old-timers on his staff.
A couple dozen police and crime-scene techs were crowded around the entrance. Hauck said hi to a few of them, who instinctively waved back with surprise. “Hey, lieutenant!” No one stopped him. He stepped past a uniformed officer stationed at the door. Inside, there was a large, two-story foyer with a round marble table and a winding staircase leading to the second floor.
A small crowd was gathered in a room off the entrance hall. Hauck stepped in. It looked like someone’s office, probably Marc Glassman’s. Built-in shelves filled with books and photos. Signed baseballs. The actual bodies were gone, but the blue outline drawn on the floor by the desk next to a large bloodstain was marked “1.” Marc Glassman had been shot downstairs, Hauck recalled. He took a look around and saw a wall safe open and the desk drawers removed and overturned on the floor. Police believe that the motive behind this family’s tragic end was simply a robbery gone bad…
Across the room, Hauck spotted Steve Chrisafoulis, who had taken over his job as head of detectives, talking to Ed Sinclair, one of his crew.
Steve gave him a look between confusion and surprise. “Whasamatter, new job not keeping you busy, Ty?”
“First big case…” Hauck shrugged to Steve, waving hi to Ed. “Couldn’t stay away.”
“Pretty morbid, if you ask me.” He and Steve shook hands. Hauck liked the man, who’d put in fifteen years in the city before he moved up to Greenwich. In fact, Hauck had pushed for him totake his place after Freddy Munoz was killed. The detective had been devoted to him. Follow you into hell with gas tanks on, he had once joked. Chrisafoulis shrugged apologetically. “Listen, Ty, I don’t mean to be short, but you can see there’s a lot going on…”
“I know that. I was wondering if I might look around.”
“Look around? ”
“April Glassman,” Hauck said. He glanced at the blue-taped outline of her husband on the floor. “We worked on a few projects together over at the Teen Center.”
His stomach shifted at the bald-faced lie.
The new head of detectives scratched at his mustache. “Look, Ty, I don’t know…Fitz could show up anytime…” Fitz was Vern Fitzpatrick, Greenwich’s chief of police, Hauck’s old boss. Hauck had left the force after they’d had a parting on his last big case, no longer certain where the chief’s loyalties were.
Instead, Hauck said, “You’re pretty sure this paints up as a robbery?”
Chrisafoulis shrugged. “Safe’s open. Whatever was in there’s gone. Drawers rifled through. The fourth such break-in in six weeks out in the backcountry…Same upstairs, next to the wife and daughter. Call me crazy…”
Hauck nodded grudgingly. “I heard there was a boy as well?”
Steve nodded. “In fact, it was the kid who called it in. Seven. Woke up with the whole thing happening. He hid out