Suspect Read Online Free PDF

save you.
    Scott told her these things every night when she came to him, but Stephanie was dead and could not hear. He knew he would never be able to convince her, but he told her anyway, each time she came to him, trying to convince himself.

3.
    The narrow parking lot behind Goodman’s building was furious with summer heat, and the air was sandpaper dry. Scott’s car was so hot, he used his handkerchief to open the door.
    Scott bought the blue 1981 Trans Am two months before the shooting. The right rear fender had a nasty dent from the taillight to the door, the blue paint was pocked with corrosion, the radio didn’t work, and the odometer showed 126,000 miles. Scott had bought it for twelve hundred dollars as a weekend project, thinking he would rebuild the old car in his spare time, but after the shooting he lost interest. Nine months later, the car remained untouched.
    When the air blew cold, Scott made his way to the Ventura Freeway and headed for Glendale.
    The K-9 Platoon was headquartered with the Metro Division at the Central Station downtown, but used several sites around the city for training its dogs. The primary training site was in Glendale, which was a spacious facility where Scott and the other two new handlers had been trained as K-9 officers during an eight-week handler school run by the Unit’s veteran chief trainer. The student handlers trained with retired patrol dogs who no longer worked in the field due to health or injury issues. They were easy to work with and knew what was expected of them. In many ways, these dogs served as teachers for their baby handlers, but when the school cycle was completed, the training dogs would return to wherever they lived, and the new handlers would be partnered with pre-trained patrol dogs to begin a fourteen-week certification process. This was an exciting moment for the new handlers, as it meant they would begin bonding with their new dogs.
    Scott knew he should feel excited, but felt only a dull readiness to work. Once Scott and his dog were certified, he would be alone with the dog in a car, and that’s what Scott wanted. The freedom to be alone. He had plenty of company with Stephanie.
    Scott was passing the Hollywood split when his phone rang. The Caller ID showed LAPD, so he answered, thinking it was probably his K-9 Platoon Chief Trainer, Dominick Leland.
    “This is Scott.”
    A male voice spoke, but it wasn’t Leland.
    “Officer James, I’m Bud Orso, here with Robbery-Homicide. I’m calling to introduce myself. I’m the new lead in charge of your case.”
    Scott drove on without speaking. He had not spoken with his case investigators in more than three months.
    “Officer, you still there? Did I lose you?”
    “I’m here.”
    “I’m the new lead in charge of your case.”
    “I heard you. What happened to Melon?”
    “Detective Melon retired last month. Detective Stengler was reassigned. We got a new team in here on this.”
    Detective Melon was the former lead, and Stengler was his partner. Scott had not spoken with either man since the day Scott gimped into the Police Administration Building with his walker, and unloaded on Melon in front of the entire Homicide Special squad room because they had been unable to name a suspect or develop new leads after a five-month investigation. Melon had tried to walk away, but Scott grabbed him, fell out of his walker, and pulled Melon down with him. It was an ugly scene Scott regretted, and could have derailed Scott’s chance to return to the job. After the incident, Scott’s Metro boss, a Captain named Jeff Schmidt, cut a deal with the RHD commander, a Lieutenant named Carol Topping, who buried the incident. An act of compassion for an officer who was shot to shit in the street. Melon had not filed a complaint, but shut Scott out of the investigation and stopped returning his calls.
    Scott said, “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.”
    He didn’t know what else to say, but wondered why Orso sounded so