Six months for this, eighteen for that-minimum or medium facilities, never the big house. Fast forward: He's thirty- three years old, he has two recent felonies on his dismal sheet, one aggravated assault, one grand larceny.'
'File that for a moment,' she said, motioning for Boldt to set Bryce Abbott aside. 'Rewind. David Ansel Flek. Little brother. Same trailer park, same parents, same schools. But no truancy. No arrests until he's seventeen, and that one's for loitering and curfew violation following a winter flood that takes out the family trailer and Mom along with it. It's sketchy at best, but a Denver Post article I pulled from the Net mentions her by name-Adrian Abbott Flek-electrocuted when the flood hit. Got to be the mother. Father blew off the sons and headed to the Alaska fields. David drifts south, although he never leaves Colorado-his brother's influence can hardly be said to be positive. David enlists in the Army, makes it two years, goes AWOL. Is arrested on one of his brother's robberies. Turned back over to the Army. Serves a couple months in the brig, serves out his stint and is dishonorably discharged at twentythree. State tax records show him employed briefly with a computer software firm. Mail room or programmer, we have no idea, but he's basically on the straight-andnarrow. It's during this period that brother Bryce is making his mark with the local blues, one arrest after another, increasingly violent. Make note of this: David's next job is with a discount electronics retailer, a Best Buy type. He moves up to manager in a two-year period-he's twenty-five, twenty-six now. There's a breakin at David's store right after a major delivery-two dozen TVs, VCRs, twice that many computers. David is busted and eventually confesses. His first felony, he goes down for two to seven.'
'In Etheredge,' Boldt said.
'Correct.'
'He's out in two with good behavior,' Boldt said.
'Correct. Which means we have all sorts of leverage. If we convince younger brother David that with both the Sanchez and LaMoia assaults, Bryce faces bullets from the first uniform to make him, maybe he gives us a lead. Or maybe we simply hold the threat of an added ten years over him, although that sure didn't work the first time.'
'I like playing him for the brother's safety. The only thing is, we don't have either brother for Sanchez-no phone solicitation records, remember? — and we don't have Bryce for LaMoia. He never saw his attacker's face. So we're looking at burglary at best, unless Kawamoto can make him.'
'Someone walked away from that blue van and never came back. How difficult is it for a judge or jury to see that?'
'It's circumstantial. When and if we catch up with Bryce, he'll tell us the van was stolen an hour before. We can't disprove that.'
'What about the convenience store's security camera? Did it pick up his face?'
'The system's VCR was lifted a month ago and never replaced by management. There is no tape. We can't put Bryce Flek at that gas station.'
She said, 'What exactly are you saying?'
'David is our way to find Bryce. We find Bryce, maybe we wrap this thing up.'
'Maybe,' she said. 'But Bryce would have to confess to Sanchez to get any decent charges to stick.'
Boldt answered, 'Maybe not.' He hoisted a blackand-white mug shot of Bryce Abbott Flek and turned it to face Daphne. 'What if Sanchez can ID him?'
Boldt's private line rang, and he took a call. Hanging up a moment later, a satisfied grin playing across his lips, he informed her, 'We found the apartment where Flek has been staying.'
CHAPTER 33
Bryce Abbott Flek's photo was recognized by a guitar maker. The rented room, one of five that occupied the two floors above Fletcher Brock's custom instrument shop, consumed three SID field technicians who combed it floor to ceiling. LaMoia's assault could be felt here too-normally Boldt would have been lucky to get even one tech to a potential suspect's abode in under an hour.
'What have we got?' Boldt asked a SID tech from just inside the doorway. He wore latex gloves and a snarl. The place was a pig sty.
'Stroke mags, beer drinker, junk food, dirty laundry. Three cellular phones, all apparently working. Could be a college dorm room, if I didn't know better.'
'The phones? Clones?' Boldt said.
'Three of 'em? Probably.'
'Weapons?'
'Negative.'
'Prints?'
'A lot of lifts-mostly the same guy. Maybe a woman, by the size of the others. Box of Tampax on the floor by the toilet. Blond pubic hairs mixed in with the more abundant darker ones, collected from the sheets, toilet rim, and shower drain-platinum blond.'
'Shoes?'
'Pair of high-top sneakers, is all.'
'Nike?' Boldt asked, recalling the shoe at his own assault. Had that been brother Flek?
'Converse. We've already bagged and tagged the clothes. We'll go over them for hairs and fibers. If there's anything that links this place to Sanchez or your other sites, you'll hear about it.'
'Drugs? Alcohol?'
'Valium and amphetamines in the bath. Street grade. No prescription bottles. The beer. Some Cuervo Gold. That's about it. Purely recreational stuff.'
'Not in combination,' Daphne said softly into Boldt's left ear. 'Two bennies, one Valium, and a shot of Gold. That's a street cocktail they call a glow plug. A couple glow plugs and a guy'll think he's bulletproof.'
'As in beating up a cop from behind?' Boldt suggested to her.
'That would certainly fit.'
He turned to the tech and asked, 'Electronics? Parts? Computers? Anything in that category?'
'Just the three cell phones.'
'Any of these?' he said, pulling from his pocket one of the plastic ties he'd recovered from the Kawamoto crime scene.
'Not here, but in the van,' the man answered.
'You did the van?'
'The blue van. Colorado plates? All three of us,' the tech replied, indicating the woman and man still busy behind him. He stepped forward and picked the white plastic tie from between Boldt's fingers. 'Must be a couple hundred of these lying around loose in that van.'
Boldt looked over his shoulder at Daphne and said, 'That's a start.'
Revisiting the hospital wasn't easy for Boldt. This time he was there to see Officer Maria Sanchez.
He perked up the moment he and Daphne entered the room, as the woman lying there was able to somewhat jokingly wave hello to them with her toes. Movement had returned to the digits of both feet, and with a great deal of concentration, her left ankle could be flexed. Though she remained paralyzed from the knees up, the woman's hopefulness and enthusiasm now filled the room like warm sunlight, replacing the fear and terror that had so recently been in evidence.
'We have a suspect,' Daphne announced.
The woman looked right, signaling 'yes.'
'Not yet in custody,' Boldt added. 'We would like to show you a photo array. You know the drill, Officer.'
Another 'yes.'
Daphne explained, 'There are six faces in the array, all numbered. If you recognize one of the individuals as your assailant, we would like you to blink the number to us. Number two-two blinks, et cetera. Is that okay with you?'
'Are you up to this?' Boldt asked.
'Yes,' came the indicated reply.
