Baltimore 03 - Did You Miss Me?

head had frozen. The cop had been lying here for hours. Probably since last night.
    Why were you here, man? Why are you dead?
    Joseph frowned. And why was the blood frozen in a pool close to the man’s head? He stood, shining his light on the walls and pavement looking for spatter, but saw none.
    The blood had seeped, not spurted. Which meant Red Socks was already dead when his throat was slit. This guy was big, his neck thick and muscular. So how had his killer taken him down? And why slit his throat if he was already dead?
    Joseph searched the area beyond the victim and found part of the answer. AFID tags, about an inch in diameter, littered the ground five feet from where the victim lay. Like confetti, the brightly colored anti-felon identification tags were ejected from a taser when a cartridge was deployed. Serial numbers on each tag matched the cartridge, intended to deter anyone from firing a taser unlawfully and to track them if they did.
    It obviously hadn’t deterred Red Socks’s assailant. Still, a taser blast wouldn’t have killed the victim. So what happened in between the taser and the knife?
    Joseph lifted his head when he heard a car door being closed. CSU was still five minutes away. But it could be somebody returning to the scene.
    Drawing his gun, Joseph stepped into the shadows behind the dumpster closest to the alley entrance. And waited. He didn’t have to wait long.
    A man crept into the alley. As big as Joseph, the collar of his leather jacket was pulled up, hiding his face. Still, there was something familiar about him. The way he moved. Like a soldier. The way he held his gun at his side. Like a cop. A recent memory flickered and Joseph narrowed his eyes. No way . Couldn’t be .
    ‘Tuzak,’ the man hissed. ‘Are you here?’ He paused, tilting his head to listen.
    The movement exposed his face and Joseph’s suspicion was confirmed. Clay Maynard.
    Joseph knew this guy. Resented the fucking hell out of him. Came perilously close to hating him. So of course he shows up . He’d worked with the PI once before. The day he’d met Daphne. Clay Maynard had met her that same day. Except it was Maynard she’d come to rely on in the months that followed. Months when Joseph had flown all over the country, tracking domestic terrorists, waiting for his transfer into VCET so that he could stay close to home. Close to her.
    What the hell is he doing here? That he was carrying a semi-auto didn’t bode well.
    However, as much as Joseph would have liked to believe the guy was dirty, he knew better. He could hate Clay Maynard for sharing Daphne’s bed, but the man had earned the respect of the Carter clan. Of Joseph’s brother, Grayson, specifically.
    Clay’s partner in his PI firm was Grayson’s fiancée, Paige Holden. Paige trusted Maynard with her life. Importantly, Grayson trusted Maynard with Paige’s life.
    Maynard continued toward him. In another few steps, he’d discover Red Socks.
    Remaining concealed, Joseph kept his voice even, not wanting to surprise a man with a gun in his hand. ‘FBI. Drop your weapon.’
    ‘Fuck,’ Maynard muttered. ‘Let me see the badge.’
    Joseph held it out and Maynard’s chin came up, his eyes wide. ‘Carter?’
    ‘That would be me. The gun, please.’
    Maynard handed it over, handle first. ‘Why are you here?’
    ‘I was going to ask you the same thing.’ Joseph pocketed Maynard’s gun.
    ‘I have a permit to carry,’ Maynard said, eyes narrowing.
    ‘You’ll get it back when we’re done. Why are you here?’
    ‘I’m looking for someone.’
    He’d called the man Tuzak . ‘A friend?’ Joseph asked.
    ‘An employee.’ Maynard hesitated. ‘And yes, he’s a friend, too.’
    Joseph thought of the slice across the victim’s throat. As much as he resented Maynard, he hated for the guy to see his friend that way. ‘Is he a cop?’
    Maynard’s narrowed eyes turned wary. ‘How’d you know?’
    There was no good way to say the words. ‘He’s dead, Clay. I’m sorry.’
    Maynard’s eyes closed, shoulders sagging as if he’d been expecting it. ‘How?’
    ‘Throat slit.’
    Maynard’s eyes flew open, denial warring with grief. ‘What are you doing here?’
    ‘I’m also looking for an employee.’ Ford Elkhart was his father’s employee, but it was close enough for now. ‘Why was this man here? What was he doing for you?’
    ‘Where is he?’ Maynard pushed past Joseph.
    Joseph grabbed his arm. ‘No. Clay, wait.’
    Maynard