Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [classic children's novels txt] 📗

“That could be thirty, forty square miles or more.” I yanked open the door and hollered, “Somebody! Anybody! Now!”

A sergeant came running, looking alarmed. “I need a list, ten minutes ago, of all the major malls in the Bronx, with photographs.”

She could have told me to go to hell and do it myself, but she didn’t. She said, “I can do that for you.”

“No, wait!” I turned to Dehan. “The Bronx is what, seven miles across at its widest. Ten miles long, I am being approximate here. It’s rush hour. He has to select his victim, photograph her, get to a printer, write his message, print the photograph, and then deliver it. For that, he needs to select a suitable messenger who is willing to deliver. All of this is eating considerably into his two hours. So we need malls that are close to the precinct.”

The sergeant said, “Yes, we have Bruckner Plaza, New Horizon, Webster…”

“Photographs!” I showed her the picture. “Find this mall. Because that woman is going to be killed.”

“I’m on it.”

I ran up the stairs to the captain. I knocked and went in without waiting. He looked up, startled. I showed him the picture. “I need a BOLO on this woman. I need cars to go to every mall in the Bronx and identify this shopping center—and this woman. They need to talk to cashiers, shop assistants. The clock is ticking on this woman’s life.”

He nodded. “Yes. I’ll see to it.”

He was picking up the phone as I left.

When I got back down, the sergeant was talking to Dehan. She looked at me as I approached. “Maria thinks it’s the New Horizon. I think so too. I was just there.”

“I’m pretty sure it is, Detective.”

“Okay, thanks, Maria. Dehan, get your coat. Let’s go.”

As we ran down to the car, she said, “Why don’t we just go get Dave?”

“Because if it’s him, we’ll waste time looking for him and we won’t find him. And if it’s not him, we’ll find him, but it will be a waste of time.”

“Oh…”

It took us ten minutes to get there, and another fifteen to run around the parking lot checking every entrance to see if it fit. Then Dehan grabbed my arm and stopped me. “Look.”

I looked at the photograph, then at the building, at the door, the tree, the letters… I shook my head. “No, the tree is in the wrong place..”

“No! It’s not. Look at the letters on the wall, up in the corner. You can hardly see them, but look carefully.”

I frowned. “They should be over there…”

“Look again, Stone!”

“They’re back to front! Son of a bitch! He’s inverted the picture!”

“It’s this mall, this entrance.”

We ran in. Over on the right there was a Pathmark. I pointed at the nearest checkout. “You start there. I’ll start at the other end.”

There was a long line, but I barged in waving my badge.

“’Excuse the interruption, folks.” I said to the guy at the checkout, “Were you here two hours ago?”

“Sure. Been here since one.”

“Do you recognize this woman? Her life might be at risk.”

He looked blank and shook his head. I showed it around to the people in the line and got the same, blank response. I moved to the next checkout. Same thing. Third one I was getting the same, blank stares and shaking heads when I heard my name being called. It was Dehan, waving to me. She was six checkouts down. I ran to her. As I approached, she was saying, “This woman knows her.”

The woman at the checkout was large and in her fifties. She looked worried. “She comes in three or four times a week. She’s a nice lady. She lives two streets from me on the corner. She in trouble?” The people in line were not sure whether to be restless or curious. There was some sighing and muttering.

I shook my head. “No, but she could be at risk. We need to find her. It’s really urgent. Where does she live?”

“I’ll write it down for you, honey.”

While she was writing it down, a big guy in a vest and a baseball cap started complaining. “Hey, we all got problems. Move it along. The woman’s got a fuckin’ problem, take it somewhere else. This is a goddamn store.”

Dehan turned to him. “Hey! Mister. You got an attitude?”

“I ain’t got an attitude, I just wanna do my fuckin’ shopping.”

“I’m asking you if you’ve got a fucking attitude! I got a fucking attitude, see? I got a bad fucking attitude. If you ain’t got a bad fucking attitude like mine, then shut the fuck up. We clear?”

I glanced at him. He had gone the color and consistency of a suet dumpling. I thanked the woman at the checkout, and we left at a run. We ran through the dark, wet parking lot, and as we scrambled into the car, I grabbed the radio.

“Detectives Stone and Dehan requesting backup at 1820B Waterloo Place. Have located woman in APB. Heading there now from New Horizons Shopping Mall.”

I hit the gas, and as I pulled out of the lot, I glanced at Dehan and said, “You have got a fucking attitude, Dehan.”

“I have a fucking attitude. You ain’t got a fucking attitude? Have you got a fucking attitude, Stone?”

“I’ve got a fucking attitude. Have you got a fucking attitude?”

“I’ve got a fucking attitude.”

It was less than a two-minute drive. Waterloo Place was a short, quiet street with a mixture of apartment blocks and well-kept houses with gabled roofs and ample porches. I came to 1820B and screeched to a halt. As we made our way onto the porch, I could hear sirens approaching. There was light in the windows, but I couldn’t hear any sounds coming from inside. I