Stalked by Allison Brennan Read Free Book Online

ice pick.”
    â€œ Like an ice pick or actually an ice pick?”
    â€œImpatient, as always. We’ll know more in the morning. You can observe if you want.”
    â€œNope.” She had no time to hang around the morgue, and depending on who was running the case, it could take hours. “Security cams?”
    â€œThe only useful tape showed Weber in her car, alone, entering the parking lot.”
    â€œKiller was on foot?”
    â€œPossibly. We have the tape of everyone driving in, but it’ll take days to go through all the faces, and unless we get some info to narrow the parameters that’s not my focus. However, I have a couple rookies going through everyone who left the stadium thirty minutes prior to time of death. Because the game was close, not many people left early.”
    â€œGood idea.” She paused. “I don’t think the killer was at the game.”
    â€œBased on?”
    â€œIf you’re right and she was killed by someone she knew, someone she planned on meeting at the stadium, why would he buy a ticket?”
    â€œMaybe it’s someone who was there with others and slipped out to kill her, goes back in, and sits with friends. Alibi.”
    â€œI hadn’t thought of that.”
    â€œI must be more devious than you.”
    â€œSometimes.” She sipped her beer. “Did you print the car?”
    He stared at her.
    â€œOf course you did. Sorry.”
    â€œSo far, nothing. Just Weber, her sister, and Weber’s research assistant. Crime techs are looking for trace in the vehicle. Talked to the sister—they lived in a town house on the Upper East Side, inherited from their deceased parents. Bridget Weber, forty-three, divorced. Ex-husband some schmuck who works for the governor in Albany. Sister is an interior designer. Seemed upset, but she does get half of her sister’s estate.”
    â€œSizable?”
    â€œThe town house has right of survivorship, so that’s free and clear. My techs are going through financials; she’s probably looking at a quarter mil when all’s said and done.”
    â€œLife insurance?”
    â€œSmall policy—both sisters had a hundred thou, sister said to cover any expenses related to their demise.”
    â€œOther half of the estate?”
    â€œDonation to her alma mater, Columbia University. Which brings me to the assistant, a grad student at Columbia who’s worked for the deceased only a few months. Seems she gets a new grad student for every project, becomes part of their thesis or some such thing. I talked to the faculty advisor and he’s hooking me up with her new assistant tomorrow.” Joe grinned. “Want to join me?”
    â€œI have another two dozen calls to make, and I hate the phone.”
    â€œIt’ll be fun. Old times.”
    They’d met on a case five years ago when Suzanne was first assigned to the Violent Crimes and Major Offenders squad in New York City. They worked well together. Played well together, too.
    She didn’t smile. “Not old times.”
    The pizza arrived, authentic Italian according to Joe. Suzanne didn’t care—it was simply the best pizza in Brooklyn. They ordered two more beers.
    â€œSo was I the only one working today?” Joe said between bites.
    â€œI spoke to half the people from the files you sent over—focusing on those she’s interviewing for the Cinderella Strangler case. So far she seems to be in research mode—I have the file with me so I can go through it tonight and try to figure out what her strategy was. She called our civilian consultant from the case, but Lucy said she told Weber she had no comment on the case.”
    â€œLucy who?”
    â€œKincaid. She’s a recruit going through the Academy. Her involvement wasn’t made public, but someone told Weber, someone who had enough information to make me think it’s one of mine, or one of yours.”
    â€œIs she a