CHAPTER ELEVEN
Laura tried to focus on the road, not on Nate’s questions, as they roared through Atlanta towards the house they’d only left a short while before.
“It was some Sherlock Holmes level observation, that’s all I’m saying,” Nate said. He was looking out of the window, not at her, and his voice had that tone to it like he was trying very hard to keep it casual. “I just glanced over the photographs and didn’t notice anything.”
Laura shrugged, speeding through an intersection just before the light turned red. “I wasn’t enjoying looking at Ross’s face,” she said. “Studying the photographs was less awkward. That grief – it was so raw. I hate having to talk to people like that.”
“Yeah.” Nate’s voice was sympathetic, heavy. Laura knew he felt it too. “Still, kudos. I didn’t catch it. And it was a hell of a coincidence to pick up on, that twelve.”
“I guess our minds analyze facts in different ways,” Laura said. “I’ve been playing around with that twelve hours, twelve noon, twelve midnight collection in my head all day. That’s why it jumped out at me.”
It was all true enough, of course. This time, Laura was glad she could actually tell him why she’d fixated on that detail. The vision had helped to reinforce a sense of timeliness in her, a deadline that was coming up. But noticing the number twelve on the photograph had been all her.
It was nice to remember that she was actually good at her job, sometimes.
“It’s a good link,” Nate acknowledged.
Laura pulled the car to a screeching halt outside the property, looking up at it. The same cars were still parked on the road as before. It didn’t look as though anyone had gone home. “It’s tenuous,” Laura admitted. “But the fact of being the boyfriend of both of them – that’s much stronger than the number connection.”
“And he’s our first lead,” Nate grinned, getting out of the car. Laura followed suit, straightening the front of her jacket in a subconscious effort to prepare herself. She hoped he was going to come in for questioning without a fight. With so many other people there, things could get awkward. People could be hostages. Could get in the way, impede a chase. There were a lot of reasons why she so much preferred when these confrontations went down as the suspect was alone.
“Let’s do this,” Nate said, nodding sharply at her and turning for the door as soon as she nodded back.
Within seconds he was hammering hard on the front door, making sure that he would get someone’s attention. It was the older brother, the one they hadn’t spoken to, who opened it. He had a look of surprise on his face, like they were the last people he was expecting to see.
“Bradley?” Nate
asked, keeping his voice low. Not loud enough to be heard by the people inside.
“No, I’m John,” he said, his expression blank and confused.
“No,” Nate hissed, leaning forward to keep his voice low while being understood as clearly as possible. “Bradley. Is he still inside with your parents?”
“Oh.” John blinked again, then slowly shook his head. “No, he had a practice session to get to.”
Nate looked over his shoulder at Laura, his eyes wide. “When?” he asked, turning back.
“Right after you left.”
Laura was running calculations in her head. When they first interviewed everyone, Bradley had only just been returning. He’d been out somewhere – to the store, he’d said. She had no idea how long he’d been gone for prior to that. Long enough to head out before noon, set up his victim, swing by the store on the way back, and then pretend it was all innocent?
And now – why had he left again? Was he really playing ball, or had he gone to check on his latest victim?
“Where?” Nate asked, following up with the obvious. Behind him, Laura was already pulling out her cell phone and dialing Captain Blackford’s number. She turned her back on the conversation and moved towards the car, already preparing to get into the passenger seat so that Nate could drive while she talked.
“Captain Blackford,” he said, his tone surprisingly pleasant.
“This is Agent Frost,” Laura rattled out, opening the door and getting into the car. “I need you to trace a registration plate for me. Then we need to put out an APB. Our suspect is on the move.”
“Name?” Blackford barked. It was funny how the man could put so much emotion into one single word. Laura heard how his tone had hardened, realizing who he was talking to. But she also heard a note of grudging respect, no doubt towards the fact that they had already managed to get a suspect on a case that had proven difficult for his men.
“Bradley Milford,” Laura replied. “He’s a minor league baseball player for a local team, if that helps.”
“I know the man you mean. We just spoke about him,” Blackford replied, with a light trace of irritation in his voice. There was a kind of rustling noise and then clacking, like he’d moved to a computer and started typing. Somehow, it didn’t surprise Laura that he was interested in the local sports scene. Nate got into the car beside her, behind the wheel, and started programming the GPS with whatever location John Rowse had given him.
“We’re told he’s at practice right now, but if we don’t find him there, we’ll have high reason to believe he’s on his way to set up or check on a new crime scene,” Laura said, as Nate started the car and began to drive. “No idea on whether he’ll be armed, so best advice your people to approach with caution.”
“Got it.” Blackford’s typing stopped. “I have it here. You got a pen handy to note it down?”