BLUE BLOOD RUNS COLD (A Michael Ross Novel Book 1) (14 page)

              Billy said, “We don't know. That's the truth of it. He's not telling nothing no more. So we have to try and piece together what happened, including what led him to come here. Now if it turns out we find the flashlight in the dorm or among the girl's possessions, then we'll have it tested for fingerprints. If it turns out she handled it, well, you know how the saying goes.”

              “Indeed I do, Detective. I suppose you're not going to tell me why a person with Miss Moore's injuries chose not to seek help from a medical care practitioner at the time of her injury?”

              Billy shrugged both of his big shoulders. He said, “That's part of an ongoing investigation. I can't speak about that with you at this time.”

              Caitilin Phillips picked up the warrant and read it through. She took enough time doing so that Michael thought she had a stack of papers in front of her, rather than a single sheet. When she finally put it down, Michael let out the breath he'd been holding.

              She said, “President Clifton, I've read the document, and I'm prepared to tell you how things stand.”

              Lorraine picked up the warrant herself and held it before her eyes while she said, “Go ahead.”

              “The warrant directs Detectives Michael Ross and William McGee to search the property of one Shannon Moore for evidence pertaining to the murder of Officer Kevin Bailey, which is estimated to have taken place late Friday night into Saturday morning. Should you find anything incriminating of any kind among Miss Moore's possessions, you are directed to confiscate it at once as evidence in your investigation. Is that correct?”

              Michael said, “Yes, ma'am, it is.”

              “In that case, Lorraine, it is fruitless to file an injunction against this warrant. You do not own any of the property specified for search and seizure. The property is not located on your living premises, nor on any building, plot of land, or in any vehicle you may own. Because of this, any injunction you may choose to file will be rejected by the court.”

              Michael tried his best to restrain his mirth. He had a feeling that Shippensburg University had just incurred a legal expense that would not have been necessary if only Lorraine had asked him directly. While he knew it was cruel to find humor in someone else's mistakes, he could not help himself. He let out a chuckle, one that drew the attention of both the lawyer and the university president.

              The lawyer said, “I'm sorry, do you find something amusing, Detective?”

              Michael said, “No, excuse me. I was remembering something from a television show. I apologize if I've given offense.”

              The president stood up. She said, “Well regardless, gentlemen, it seems the best course of action is simply to leave you to your work. I've kept you here long enough. Time you found out who killed one of our university's finest.”

              Though Michael had often heard the word
finest
used in conjunction with police officers, he wondered if that word applied to an officer who deliberately injured a young woman for no good reason at all.

5

              During her tenure as a student, Shannon had lived in three different residence halls. She had first lived in Ravney Hall, the oldest, by virtue of having been placed there without her consent. Then she had moved into the Rossmoyne Hall, the newest building on campus until the gymnasium was constructed. There she had lived for two years until both her roommates had graduated. Unwilling to move in with strangers, and unable to find anyone willing to move out of their current spaces, she had been forced into a traditional dorm, one without an exercise center, elevators, or air conditioning. That was McCleary Hall, a tall five-story building with a small parking lot in which three maintenance vehicles had parked.

              Billy found a spot as close as he could to the building. By then, the rain had let up, only falling in small occasional drops. Michael let his partner walk in front while they ascended a winding sidewalk. They passed two young trees that had been borne down by the weight of heavy snow so that they stood at angle. A scattering of rock salt had been placed on the sidewalks sometime during the afternoon, though Michael could not recall seeing any in the morning.

              They came before a glass door beside which had been placed a card scanner. Billy tried opening the door, but found it locked. He knocked on the door with a big fist. Inside, a student sitting behind a desk looked up from her perusal of a group of papers lying before her. Billy motioned for her come and open the door, but she sat frozen in place, unsure what to do. A young woman with curlers in her hair, a toothbrush poking out of her mouth, and pink flip-flops on her feet came to the door, then pushed it open long enough for Billy to grab it and enter.

              Billy said, “Thank you.”

              The woman waved a hand in the air as she walked away, saying nothing.

              They walked up to the desk. The attendant, wide-eyed, said, “Um, how can I help you?”

              Billy held up his gold shield. He said, “We're with the police. We'd like to see your duty officer, please.”

              “Oh, you mean the on-call RA? Let me see who's on duty this weekend.” She pulled a sheet of paper off of a clipboard next to her station. She read it, then said, “You're looking for Mindy Chen. She's in room 122.”

              Michael knew that the warrant specified only a search of Shannon's room. It did not allow him or his partner to wander about the residence hall looking for whatever they wanted. Though he'd known other officers who would have done exactly that, he had also known prosecutors who had later complained that the evidence they expected to have in a trial had been thrown out because it had not been gathered with probable cause present. Though defense attorneys often found it difficult to get any evidence thrown out at all, it happened nonetheless. When it did, the officers who gathered the evidence got called out on the carpet to explain what they had been doing snatching up another person's property at random. Even the presence of an officer in a place where he wasn't supposed to be could be used to suggest that evidence had been gathered improperly.

              Billy said, “Excuse me, could you call her here?”

              The desk assistant pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number. She said, “Mindy, this is Gail at the front desk. The police just showed up. They say they want to talk to you. Yeah...okay. Gotcha. I'll tell them.” She laid the phone down on the papers in front of her and said, “She'll be here in a minute.”

              “Hey thanks. You've been a great help.”

              Gail said nothing to this. She merely looked at the detectives before her, so alien in a place where young people with backpacks were the norm.

              Michael stepped away from a desk to stand in front of a pay telephone that charged seventy-five cents for a call. Billy rubbed the back of his neck. He said, “That felt good. I like being in the lead. I can see why you do it. Being in charge, you know? Kind of an aphrodisiac.”

              Michael hadn't thought about his actions in that way before. He did not know if he had been dragged along by an addiction to be the first, to be the best, to always be at the fore. He put the subject away for another time, one when he could reflect on his own choices without having a case dominate all his thoughts.

              He said, “You might be right. But even if we didn't have that conversation before, I would still want you to the lead the search here.”

              Billy looked away while a young man wearing boxer shorts and carrying a table tennis racket passed by. Once the resident disappeared into the dorm's basement, Billy said, “You mean because I know what the flashlight looks like?”

              “Sure, you've handled one before, haven't you?”

              “Yeah, the chief showed me his. He had number one.”

              Michael thought for a moment. He said, “Did you inspect all of the flashlights at the station?”

              Billy held up a hand. He said, “Hey, I know what you're gonna say. You don't have to say it. The chief told me an inventory is taken of all personnel items at the end of each night shift. They keep a log book. The chief showed it to me. Number eight flashlight was missing.”

              “I think I'd still like to have a look for myself.”

              “You mean, you think the flashlight has been at the station all along? Hiding in plain sight?”

              “I would have been willing to take the chief at his word until I heard about the drop in Carlisle. Now I think we have to assume that someone at the station here is up to something. Maybe Shannon knew or saw something she shouldn't have known or seen. Maybe that's what the hit list was, people who had seen too much and might cause trouble later on.”

              “So then, let's recap what we have. First, a student dies from a roof collapse. That's only related to the case because it made Moore angry enough to shout at the university president. With that many students in one place, the university called for two police officers to supervise the scene. One of them tackles Moore and sprays her in the face. Was that retaliation for something she'd done? A warning to keep quiet? Or was he trying to drive her out because she knew too much?”

              Michael leaned against the wall, thinking. He said, “If we need to go back to the hospital to ask after her personal belongings, you can ask her that yourself. The more layers I peel away from this case, the more I wish I had turned down your offer this morning.”

              “You don't want the money? Not that you ever spend it. Why did you accept it, anyway?”

              Michael grinned. “Because I like driving on early Saturday mornings. Everyone is sleeping off their Friday night parties. No one's out on the road.”

              “What, that's it? Just for that, and nothing else? You're not interested in the money, or the case itself? You serious?”

              “Now that I've been working the case today, I do want to get to the bottom of all this. There's something rotten in Shippensburg. I don't know what, but I want to find it. I get paid well enough, I suppose. It's just, what do I really need that I don't already have? I have a roof over my head, I have enough clothes to wear, I have enough food to eat, I have central heating and central air, and I can go out to eat whenever I want. What more could I want out of life than that?”

              Billy shook his head. A low, rumbling laugh escaped from his throat. He said, “You always were an odd duck. You never have gone on vacation except when someone strongly suggests that you take one.”

              Michael laughed as well. He said, “That doesn't happen as often as it used to. Guess they really do think of me as indispensable.”

              “Hey, question for you. How do you put up with all the stress and nonsense that goes on at the station? Half the time, I can't stand it, crammed into that little space they gave me to work. I hardly even have enough leg room there, and now they're talking about reducing the desk size even further to fit more officers in. How do you stand it?”

              Michael leaned in close. He said, “I'll tell you a secret. Everyone has an ego. Some more than others. All you have to do is remember that everyone thinks they're the center of the universe. Anything that goes against that notion, well, it's gonna cause friction. The trick is, don't criticize anyone unless you know you're absolutely right. Most of the time, you'll only bring grief upon yourself for speaking your mind.”

              Billy looked away. He said, “Oh man, tactfulness. My wife told me about that. Well, she tells me a lot. Not my strong suit.”

              At that moment, when Michael had been about to offer words of encouragement, a short Asian woman appeared before them. She had shiny, jet-black hair which she had pulled back into a ponytail. She stood less than five feet tall. Though Billy dwarfed her, she took no notice. She said, “Hi there. You're the police officers?”

              Billy said, “Yes, ma'am, we are.”

              The woman extended her hand. She said, “Hi, I'm Mindy Chen. I'm the resident assistant on duty for the weekend. How can I help you today?”

              Billy shook the woman's hand with care, as though afraid he would break her hand with too strong a grip. He held out the search warrant and said, “We're here to search the premises belonging to Shannon Moore as authorized by this court order.”

              Mindy's eyes went wide. She said, “Oh dear, did she do something? What's wrong?”

              “I'm afraid I can't discuss that now. Could you show us to her room, please?”

              “Oh sure, it's on the fifth floor. Follow me.”

              Michael followed behind as he walked up the wide wooden steps. By the time he reached the third floor, he found his legs becoming sore. When they reached the fifth floor, he found himself breathing heavy. Even though he exercised every day during the week, age still caught up with him now and then. In the service, he'd been able to carry around a heavy rucksack that weighed ninety pounds or more while he hiked around in the desert, his feet swelling up with blisters, sweat pouring down his face. Now walking up five flights of stairs with nothing heavier than a handgun on his hip wore him out. He plodded on, trying not to think about what his partner must be going through.