Page 45 of In His Sights

“Yeah, because we knew what it would be.”And this has gone far enough.They were long overdue for a conversation. Gary leaned forward, pointing. “That’s it on the right. Fifty Liberty.”

“Pretty swanky neighborhood,” Riley murmured as he pulled up behind a police car. “Nothing like the others.”

“How is it different?” Dan asked. “That might be important.”

“Up till now the victims lived in Dorchester, Roxbury, Jamaica Plain. Average-looking neighborhoods. This is new.”

“This place looks like it might have CCTV.” Lewis twisted to look at Gary. “I’ll check. You guys go on up.”

Riley’s gaze met Gary’s in the rearview mirror, but he said nothing. He switched off the engine, and they got out. At ground level, the words Fifty Liberty stood out from the wall in polished metal.

Gary glanced up the street. “Del’s here.” The medical examiner’s car was parked ahead of theirs.

“He usually beats us to it.” Riley led the way across a paved area bracketed by neatly trimmed shrubs. He stopped at the main door, where a police officer stood. “Hey, Lomax. This is getting to be a habit.”

“If it is, it’s one I’d like to break. Six days since the last one. What’s he doing, going for a record?” Lomax gave Gary a nod, then stared at Dan.

“It’s okay, he’s with us,” Gary informed him. He pushed open the door, and they stepped into the cool interior with its marble floors and expanses of glass.

“I’ll go talk to the concierge.” Lewis strode toward the rear of the lobby. Gary, Riley, and Dan headed for the elevators, where a couple of officers stood talking.

“The medical examiner arrived about five minutes ago,” one of them told Gary. “Eleventh floor, Apartment A.”

He glanced at his badge. “Thanks, Williams.” He pressed the button, and when the doors slid open, they filed inside. More marble covered the floor, and the back wall of the elevator was mirrored. Gary expelled a breath. “Okay, what do we know about the victim?”

Riley consulted his notes. “Dispatch said his name is Robin Fields. They got a call from the concierge. Mr. Fields’s cleaner arrived this morning and found him. I did a quick search online.” Riley whistled. “This guy could buy the whole building if he wanted.”

“What else do we know about him?” Gary asked as the elevator stopped and they got out.

“Apart from the fact that he’s a millionaire? Self-made man, made a fortune from the sale of his first company when he was twenty-nine, then kept doing the same thing for the next twenty years.”

Gary paused at the yellow tape across the hallway. On the other side of it, an officer walked toward them.

Dan rubbed the back of his neck, and there was tightness around his eyes.

Gary frowned. “Are you all right? It’s like Riley said, Travers agreed you should be here.” He seemed awful jumpy.

Dan swallowed. “Look, this is my first crime scene, okay? Up till now, I’ve worked with evidence, the way I did today. Walking into an apartment where someone was murdered? I-I’m not sure what to expect.”

Oh God. Gary stilled. “This could be more intense than the… signals you get from items? Is that it?”

“Yeah. And right now I don’t know whether I should open myself up to whatever is in there or shield myself from being bombarded by emotions.”

Gary squeezed his arm. “If it gets too much, you give the word, and I’ll have you out of there in a heartbeat.” He was glad Lewis wasn’t around. He could imagine the sort of crap he’d come out with.

“What he said,” Riley added, his voice warm. “If you can’t take it, you get out. Period.”

Dan nodded, then cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

Gary greeted the officer who held back the tape for them, and they entered the apartment.

The dark brown wood floor contrasted with the deep cream walls. On the left of the entrance hall, a huge painting dominated the space, an abstract in muted shades of beige, bronze, and sand. The narrow hall opened out into a larger area, combining kitchen, living room, and dining table. A corner sofa filled most of the floor space, and along one wall was a unit filled with books, home theater, and ornaments. Above it was the wide-screen TV.

Rob Michaels stood beside the dining table, conversing with an officer. Behind him were floor-to-ceiling windows, affording a view of the harbor. He greeted them, his face grim. “We have to stop meeting like this.” He pointed to a door on the right. “He’s in there.”

“Did he live here alone?” Riley asked.

Rob shook his head. “There’s a boyfriend, the concierge says. We’re trying to locate him. The victim has lived here for five years.” He arched his eyebrows at the sight of Dan.

---