AT TEN-THIRTY-TWO, Joe parked his car in the lot of Darla Tucker’s apartment building, then sighed heavily.
I just wasn’t fast enough, dammit, he thought forlornly. And another young woman has paid the ultimate price because of it.
He took a moment to compose himself, then exited his vehicle and traveled slowly up the sidewalk toward Officer Jenkins and an extremely distraught civilian.
“Jenkins,” he murmured. “A moment?”
“Yes sir,” Jenkins replied, and turned to Shannon. “I’ll be right back, okay?”
She sniffled and nodded.
The two men stepped into Darla’s apartment and Jenkins brought Joe up to speed.
“And then I called for you and the coroner, sir,” he finished. “I’ve been helping Shannon since.”
“Good work, son,” Joe said wearily. “What’s Broder’s ETA?”
“Five minutes, tops.”
“
