Passions of the Dead (A Detective Jackson Mystery/Thriller) by L.J. Sellers Page B

problem,” Evans responded. “I knew it.”
    “Hold on,” Schak said. “Let me catch up.” His writing had started out messy and was getting nearly illegible.
    “I assume that’s who she meant. Did any of you ask about Shane? Do we have any clue where he is?”
    Quince leaned forward. “I spoke with Jared’s sister Tracy last night. She’s Shane’s mother and she hasn’t seen him for days. She says it’s typical though. He often stays with his friends and only crashes with them when he has to.”
    “Did you get the friends’ names?”
    “I asked but Tracy wasn’t forthcoming. I sensed she was protecting her son.” Quince scowled. “I also asked about his drug problem and she said it was all in the past. Then she promptly hung up on me.”
    “Did you run a background?”
    “Of course. He had two known associates from previous arrests. Tyler Gorlock and Doug McIntyre. McIntyre is in the state prison in Salem, but Gorlock lives in a trailer in Springfield. I was out there this morning and no one was home. Or they were hiding.”
    “Get a search warrant,” Jackson said. “Now that Lori has named Shane as the killer, we should be able to search any home he’s known to reside in.”
    “I’ll have an assistant write it up,” Slonecker offered. “Maybe Trang will even get it signed for you if he has time.”
    McCray spoke up for the first time. “You said Lori was only partially conscious. If she doesn’t pull through to testify, a defense attorney will shred her statement.”
    “True enough, but it gives us leverage with a judge for now.” Jackson took a long drink of his lukewarm coffee. “What did you find out about Jared?”
    “I’ve talked with two of his co-workers so far. They said he was always upbeat and friendly.” McCray glanced at his notes. “When I asked about Jared blackmailing their boss, they seemed stunned by the idea.”
    “What do they think of Roy Engall?”
    “They like him too. One complained about working for the same wages for three years, but neither mentioned any problems.”
    “They want to stay employed,” Evans commented, making a face.
    “Have you talked to Jared’s sister?” Jackson turned to McCray.
    “She’s not answering her phone.”
    “Find Tracy wherever she is. Ask her about Jared’s blackmail and about the attack on her husband last month. Pressure her if you have to. I think Tracy Compton has key information.” Jackson stuffed his notes into his bag. “I’ll track down Kevin Compton and see what he has to say. Our other priority is finding their son Shane. If he’s using meth and it caused him to lash out violently at his family, then he’s an extreme danger to others as well.” Jackson stood, ready to get moving.
    “You think it was Shane who attacked his father in the parking lot?” McCray got up too. “That would explain why Kevin Compton didn’t want to press charges.”
    “It’s a working theory. Nothing else about this case makes sense.”
    As they headed out Slonecker asked, “What about Roy Engall?”
    “We have detectives from vice watching him round the clock. That reminds me. Evans, will you take this warrant to a judge? Let’s bring in every pair of shoes Engall owns and get the crime lab to compare them to the bloody footprints in the foyer.”
    “I’m on it.”
    On his way to the underground parking lot, Jackson called Katie, knowing she would soon be out of class, and left a message: “Want to have lunch with Dad today? I’ll buy waffles and bring them to the school. We’ll eat in my car. Call me.”
    Katie called back while he was pulling up to a little restaurant called Off the Waffle, where two afro-sporting Israeli brothers made the best waffles he’d ever eaten. Jackson doubled his order and added bacon, as recommended by the young owner, then headed south. Seeing his daughter would set him back thirty minutes, but it was worth it. Now that she was a teenager and feeling more independent, it seemed