Three Minutes to Midnight by A. J Tata Read Free Book Online Page B

never been a CID agent, but Savage had had the foresight to outfit him with false identities and false credentials, knowing he would need access on occasion to crime scenes. He knew the chances of his being able to remove a body from a crime scene were limited, but Savage had always challenged Mahegan to reach certain stretch goals, such as capturing the American Taliban.
    As he approached the address Savage had provided him, police were everywhere. Lights were flashing, as if this were some suburban rave party. Neighbors were gawking from their yards, and he wondered how many had attended the party and how many were purely gawkers. He also saw a group of teenagers pressing against the yellow tape near the backyard. Mahegan’s hearing was in the top range on every hearing test he had ever taken, and he listened intently to the kids as he stepped from his vehicle.
    â€œTotally cool, man . . .”
    â€œWhat’s cool about this? Means the parties will probably stop. Sucks for us . . .”
    â€œBut all the cops. A murder. Naked people. Not everybody gets to see this kind of stuff. . . .”
    Mahegan walked up to the crime-scene tape and showed the uniformed officer his badge. He was uncomfortable flipping creds, figuring a Department of Defense special agent badge would not carry much weight in Raleigh, North Carolina. He had never actually used the badge before, so it looked brand new. He wasn’t practiced at the technique, and he didn’t watch cop shows on TV. But he gave it a shot and held the badge up at eye level.
    â€œArmy special agent,” Mahegan said.
    The police officer was dressed in Raleigh Police Department blue and looked fit and professional. His name tag said HERNANDEZ . The man had a broad nose, liquid brown eyes, and square shoulders.
    â€œSorry. Can’t let you in,” the sergeant said.
    Mahegan spoke in a calm voice, looking the police officer in the eyes. “I understand Captain Cassidy was killed on her first night back from Afghanistan. I’m Special Agent Hawthorne, and we have the Army Criminal Investigation Command en route. After the team arrives, probably not your crime scene anymore.” CID was not en route to this particular crime scene, but Mahegan figured they were going somewhere in the country at this moment.
    After a short pause, Hernandez said, “Gotta talk to the police chief.” He turned his chin toward an older man in khakis and a Windbreaker, looking like he had just been called off the golf course. He was standing on the porch, with his hands on his hips, looking at Mahegan.
    Without asking, Mahegan stepped under the yellow tape and walked across the perfectly mown fescue grass. The Ridge Road mansion rose up before him like a monument to architecture. Initially hidden behind Leyland cypress trees and tall oaks, the brick colonial mansion now spread before Mahegan. White columns supported picketed balconies that jutted from upstairs rooms like firing ports in a castle. Large windows stared at him, curtains drawn like the half-closed eyelids of a lurking beast.
    â€œChief,” Mahegan said as he ascended the brick staircase that fanned twenty yards across the facade like a jutting jaw.
    â€œWhat’s your deal?”
    â€œSpecial Agent. U.S. military. Captain Cassidy just returned from Afghanistan. Need to see the body.”
    â€œDon’t we all, son.”
    Mahegan processed the response.
    â€œBody’s gone missing. If there ever was one. Got a bloodstain, but given all the crazy stuff going on in there, it could be anything. Some woman might have gotten her monthly, for all we know now. Celebrating the completion of a natural gas pipeline from Raleigh to Morehead City port, or something like that.”
    Mahegan nodded as he processed the information. “I need to see the crime scene to prep the Army Criminal Investigation Command.”
    â€œLet me see your creds.”
    He replayed the scene with the