Touch of Red (Tracers #12)(37)

“I’m not about to start arresting people.” Sean pushed his chair back. “But I’m also not going to sit around waiting for some lawyer to give me permission to do my job.”





CHAPTER 11


“Where are you?”

Sean put his phone on speaker and dropped it into the cup holder. “I’m parked outside his gym,” he told Callie.

“And where is that?”

“Fifth and West.”

“Don’t go anywhere.”

Sean stared through the windshield at the gym’s entrance, then shifted his gaze to the silver BMW parked at the front of the lot. Bradley Mahoney had driven over here an hour ago even though the gym was only six blocks from his condo. Guess he didn’t want to exert himself on the way to his workout.

The Riverbend condominium complex was a gated community on the south end of the riverfront district, an area known for restaurants, bars, and trendy coffee shops—including Java House, which was three short blocks from Mahoney’s home.

Coincidence? Sean planned to find out.

While he’d been stuck in the parking lot observing the neighborhood, Sean had come up with multiple scenarios in which Samantha Bonner might have crossed paths with her killer, such as serving up his coffee every morning. Mahoney might have noticed the pretty barista and asked her out. Or maybe they frequented the same dry cleaner’s. Or sandwich shop. They could have come into contact anywhere in the neighborhood where he lived and she worked. If there was an intersection point between them, Sean would find it.

The passenger-side door opened, and Callie slid into the truck.

“Damn, it’s cold in here. Why isn’t your heater on?”

“I’ve been here an hour. What have you got?”

“A lot.” She handed over a stapled stack of papers. “Bradley J. Mahoney, attorney-at-law.”

“Shit, you’re kidding.”

“No.”

Lawyers were connected, especially in a town this size. Sean hoped they weren’t going to have to deal with Mahoney’s hearing through the grapevine that he was a person of interest in a homicide investigation.

“Turns out he did have a traffic ticket,” Callie said. “Two, actually, both for speeding. And he got both dismissed. My guess is he’s got a contact at the courthouse who made these go away.”

Sean flipped through the papers, thinking about what else Mahoney could have made go away. As a general rule, Sean hated lawyers, even the ones on his side. They worried more about probable cause and admissibility than keeping dangerous people off the streets.

“What kind of law does he practice?” Sean asked, thumbing through the paperwork, which included an article in the state bar magazine: “Five Tips for Winning Your Case before Trial.” Bradley J. Mahoney was listed as a coauthor.

“From what I can tell? Mostly personal injury and workers’ comp.”

“Married?”

“No. And no kids, that I could find.”

Sean skimmed the printout of Mahoney’s driver’s record. Sean had already pulled it electronically while he’d been waiting outside the gym. He studied the driver’s license photo, looking for something menacing in the man’s eyes. But he just looked like some bored businessman who’d wasted his morning waiting in line at the DMV.

“I like his age,” he told Callie. “Twenty-nine.”

“Yeah, and you notice his size? Six-two, one-eighty.”

“Plenty big enough to ambush Samantha Bonner with a hunting knife.”

“That’s right. And I’m sure you noticed his address. Those Riverbend condos are what, three blocks from Java House?”

“That’s right.” Sean glanced at the gym, but still no sign of their suspect. “I want a credit-card dump. Maybe he’s been in there before.”

“You won’t get it without a warrant.”

“I know.”

“And you won’t get a warrant without Rachel’s help. Ric talked to her, and she’s not big on this familial-DNA thing. She told him it’s a can of worms.”

Ric had already called Sean and relayed the DA’s concerns, once again reinforcing all the reasons Sean hated lawyers. Rachel did everything by the book, which sucked from a detective’s perspective.

But Sean had to admit that her obsession with rules helped bolster her impressive conviction rate, which Sean did appreciate because it meant that many of his collars served time. As lawyers went, Rachel wasn’t all bad.

“The DA doesn’t like big suspect pools,” Sean told Callie. “Right now we’re at ten people, and that’s only in this county.”

“So, what are we going to do?”

“Narrow it down for her.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” Callie gestured toward the gym. “The two of us have wasted three solid hours already on one guy. We don’t have the time or the manpower to stake out every Mahoney on the list.”

Sean looked at her. “You ever heard of surreptitious evidence collection?”

Her gaze narrowed. “Yeah.”

“I talked to the building management over at Riverbend. Trash day is Monday.”

“That’s all you, Byrne. Don’t think for a minute I’m going Dumpster diving. You already owe me favors. And speaking of favors, I got a name for you, and you’re not going to like it.”