Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 04 - Politics is Murder by Carolyn Arnold Page A

it.”

 
     
     

     
    Touchdown
     
    BY THE TIME THE PLANE landed, Sean’s phone rang and it was Adam.
    “Let me put you on speaker.”
    He and Sara stood close together, their overnight bags at their feet.
    “I have the information you were looking for,” Adam said. “Justin’s last name is Pearson. I’m sending all of this through to your phone now.”
    Sean watched the message icon appear at the top of the screen. “Looks like it was received.”
    “I’ve included his home address, phone number, his birthday. Probably way more than you even need. Let me know if there’s anything else.”
    “We will. Thank you.”
    “You’re more than welcome, Mr. McKinley. I mean it. Anything else you need, I’m your guy.”
    Sean passed Sara a smile. The kid was already addicted to undercover work. The upside was they could use someone like him on their team. “We will be in touch.”
    “Wonderful.” Adam’s smile came across the phone line. “Good day, Sean and Sara.”
    Sean liked how Adam began with the formal address and concluded with the informal.
    “He said anytime, darling.” Sara smiled at him as she looped her arm through his.

     
    The address for Justin Pearson led to a middle-income neighborhood, based on the cookie-cutter architecture—two-story, vinyl-sided houses with large garages occupying a good portion of the front face.
    Justin rented the bottom apartment of number seven eighty-one. The homeowners were of no relation to him.
    Sean and Sara parked their rental car around the corner, their day-job mindset taking precedence—don’t scare the perpetrator by making them feel trapped. If Justin was behind all this, seeing them in advance could cause him to panic and do something to hurt Halie.
    “He is an outsider, Sean, and he has invested reason. He must have figured he’d get some money out of Davenport before his godmother had to close her business.” Sara flipped down the visor, peered in the mirror, and traced a fingertip around her brow. The last couple of days had infused her eyes with weariness. There was a lot at stake—a girl’s life. A portion of her wondered if they should have just called in their lead and had law enforcement take it, but she also saw the benefit to keeping the matter between them until they knew for sure.
    “He also has a lot to lose, so we have to be careful how we approach this,” Sean said.
    She nodded. He verbalized her exact thinking on the matter. “We go in slow.”
    Seven eighty-one was a cream-sided house. The entrance to the lower apartment was at the right side and they followed the path. No cars were in the driveway.
    There was no doorbell, so Sean knocked on the door, a solid rap that would have permeated deep into the home.
    They waited and heard nothing.
    “No one’s home, Sean.” She leaned against the sidelight, nearly touching her nose to the glass, her hand sheltering her eyes from other light so she could focus inside. When her eyes adjusted, she saw him. She straightened and looked over at Sean. “We have to go inside.”
    “First hacking, and now you’re hungry for more B&E.”
    Based on the reflection in his eyes, her face must have said it all. She was certain she was pale. He twisted the handle, and with a negative shake of his head, she went into her purse and handed him a pin.
    Justin was lying on the kitchen floor. A frying pan was beside him and there was a deep gash to his forehead.
    Sean got down to him and felt for a pulse. A few seconds later, he stood. “He’s gone. Now we’re never going to find Halie.”
    “She could have attacked him when she broke free.”
    “But if she did, we should know by now. Reanne would have called, or the Davenports.”
    “Very true, darling.” She took in the scene. The pan had a blood smear on its base and was definitely the weapon of death. She closed her eyes for a second and revelation hit her. “It wasn’t Halie who did this.”
    “Who could it be then?”
    “He was a