Baltimore 03 - Did You Miss Me?

said.
    ‘No.’ Maynard swallowed hard. ‘He worked for me each time his wife was pregnant. They needed the money for expenses. Diapers, formula. College funds. Phyllis’s got to be out of her mind by now. She needs to be informed. So does Daphne.’
    ‘Before it breaks in the media,’ Joseph agreed. ‘Deacon, stay here and coordinate with CSU – and get some uniforms canvassing this area. I want to know who was home last night at eleven and what they saw or heard.’
    ‘Eleven?’ Deacon asked. ‘Significance?’
    ‘That’s when the film Ford and Kim went to see was over.’ Joseph checked his phone for messages. ‘Bo’s put out the BOLO. He attached photos of both of them, if you need to show them around.’ He opened the photo of Kimberly, surprised to see that the girl was Asian. ‘Not what I expected with a name like MacGregor.’
    ‘She was adopted,’ Maynard said quietly. ‘She friended an organization for Chinese adoptees in Philadelphia on Facebook. Her parents are Caucasian, based on the photos she’s posted. She’s got one sister, Pamela, about fourteen, also Chinese.’
    ‘This is why I don’t have a Facebook page,’ Deacon said.
    Joseph shrugged. ‘Makes our lives easier. Who needs a warrant when you’ve got the social network? Questions before I go do notifications?’
    ‘Several. I—’ Whatever Deacon had been about to ask next was interrupted by slamming doors and the appearance of CSU. ‘Stay here, Mr Maynard,’ Deacon said. ‘I’m certain that I’ll have more questions for you.’
    ‘He’s with me,’ Joseph said. ‘Officer Zacharias’s wife will need someone to stay with her. She’s pregnant. We don’t want to make this situation even worse.’
    Deacon had been ready to argue, but closed his mouth when Joseph gave him a pointed look. ‘Okay.’ Deacon shrugged. ‘I’ll keep in touch.’
    ‘Can you wait next to my SUV?’ Joseph asked Maynard, pointing to the alley entrance. ‘It’s a black Escalade, parked on the street. I need to coordinate a few things with Agent Novak before we go.’
    ‘Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.’ Maynard walked away, shoulders bowed.
    Joseph frowned at Deacon, who studied him, bemused. ‘What?’
    ‘I’m trying to figure you out,’ Deacon murmured. ‘When I walked up, you looked like you wanted to rip Maynard apart, and yet you yell at me for not being Mr Sensitive.’
    Joseph blinked, taken aback. ‘I did not look any such way.’
    Deacon’s odd eyes widened. ‘You thought you’d hidden it. Oh, that’s rich. Newsflash, Carter. You didn’t. So what did your boy do to you ?’
    ‘Nothing.’ Joseph swallowed his annoyance when Deacon made a show of biting back a smile. ‘Maynard works with my brother’s fiancée. My brother trusts him, which means I do too. Maynard didn’t kill Zacharias.’
    ‘Maybe, maybe not. I’m inclined to agree though. So what did he do to you ?’
    Joseph counted backward from ten, grateful for the appearance of a fifty-something woman in white coveralls who carried a tackle-box in each hand, her back bowing under the weight. Barely five feet tall, Dr Fiona Brodie looked too fragile to be carrying her own equipment, but Joseph had learned long ago never to presume to carry it for her.
    Brodie had thirty years with the Bureau, all in forensics. Joseph had known her since his academy days when he’d sat in her classroom studying blood spatter patterns. She reminded him of his mother, possessing that ageless quality that made her appear unchanged. Dr Brodie had joined VCET because she wanted to do something different before retiring. This case should grant that wish , Joseph thought grimly.
    He met her halfway. ‘Dr Brodie. I’m glad you’re here.’
    She stopped at the body and took it all in, her face creasing in a mighty frown. ‘Who touched him? Who removed these boxes?’ She looked over her shoulder, disappointed. ‘ Some body has compromised evidence.’
    Joseph felt compelled to defend himself. ‘It was the homeless guy who found him.’ He pointed to the sack. ‘He stole the victim’s shoes and was scavenging his clothes.’
    ‘Oh. Sorry. Wouldn’t have been the first time an agent mucked up a crime scene.’ She angled a look up at him. ‘But it would have been the first time you mucked one up. Glad to see you haven’t slipped.’ Her brows lifted, her ire dissipated. ‘Bo tells me that you’re leading this investigation.’
    Well, what do you know? Bo