Blown Away by Shane Gericke Read Free Book Online

I took a look, then called you.”
    â€œSo what did you find, Commander?” Emily said, impatient at the maddeningly slow answers.
    â€œYour police card,” Benedetti said. “In the dead gal’s purse.”
    Emily felt like she’d touched a live wire. Modeled on the Pokemon types so popular with kids, the wallet-size police cards displayed an officer’s photograph, career highlights, vital statistics, and hobbies. They came in boxes of 1,000 and were showered on the public like confetti. Officers routinely lectured at churches, schools, homeowners associations, scout meetings, and Safety Town, the miniature Naperville that sat kitty-corner from the police station, and they handed out their cards to promote a positive image. She’d handed out hundreds of her own in her eleven months on the job. “You’re kidding,” she said, for lack of anything better.
    â€œNope. She knew you. Or planned to talk to you. Or…” The thought trailed off, and he thumbed through his notebook. “Vic’s name is Lucille Crawford,” he said. “Goes by Lucy. She lives—lived—in Fox Valley Villages. Know the place?”
    North of here, near the mall …” “Sure,” Emily said. “But I’ve never heard of a Lucille Crawford, from there or anywhere else.” She paused to think—cops ran across a lot of names in the course of their work—but decided she’d never heard this one. “That last ‘or’ implies a third possibility,” she continued. “What is it?”
    Benedetti’s lips formed an O as he sucked in air. “Your card wasn’t mixed up with the hair spray and Juicy Fruit at the bottom of her purse,” he said. “It was right on top, in plain sight. Lucy may have put it there to keep it handy.” Pause. “Or it could have been planted by her killer.”
    Emily took a step back. “Planted? You mean as in framing me?”
    Benedetti shrugged. “More a message, I think,” he said. “To you. Or about you.”
    Emily shook her head so vigorously, her chestnut hair danced. “Kill someone to send me a message? That’s a little, uh, extreme, don’t you think?” Her arrests were numerous but dull—speeders, burglars, Peeping Toms, drunks, and check-kiters. Not killers! And she only had a handful of stalkers, the lonely social inepts who dropped by the station with undying professions of love. They were harmless, and a minute or two of chitchat was all they really wanted. The one stalker who grabbed her got busted hard and fast by the desk officers. But the man never vowed vengeance. As Annie explained one night over salsa and chips washed down by margaritas, “The guy loved it. Handcuffing is the ultimate ‘I love you’ for a stalker.” Emily glanced back at the wreck and felt electricity drip down her backbone. What’s this all about, Lucy? she wondered.
    â€œWant me to roust Emily’s jailbirds?” Branch was saying. “Run down her stalkers and see what they’re up to?”
    Benedetti shook his head. “I didn’t bring you guys here to work. Just wanted to size up my clue in person, see if anything rang a bell.” He turned to Emily. “How many stalkers do you have, anyway?”
    â€œSeven,” she replied. “That I know of. Five men, two women. I can call later with names.”
    Benedetti nodded. “Do that. Probably won’t amount to anything. Stalkers are usually lovers, not fighters.” He thumbed a page, cleared his throat. “Lucy lived on Prancing Pony Lane. Jesus, where do they come up with these silly goddamn names, huh? Worked as a mechanic.”
    â€œAuto?” Branch asked.
    â€œTruck.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œMall,” Benedetti said. “Night supervisor at Great Lakes Engines. Four to midnight. Last two hours by herself, doing paperwork and setting up the