Blue Smoke

through the trash with her gloved hands. Moments later, she came back in holding a box.
    “I think we’ve got a motive.” She held up the home pregnancy test.
    T he desk clerk’s vague description of the man who’d checked in with the victim was given a boost by the prints Reena lifted from the frying pan.
    “Got him,” she told O’Donnell, and swiveled around in her chair to face his desk. “Jamal Earl Gregg, twenty-five. Got a sheet. Assault,possession with intent, malicious wounding. Did a stint in Red Onion in Virginia. Released three months ago. Got a Richmond address listed. De Wanna Johnson’s driver’s license had a Richmond address.”
    “So maybe we’ll take a field trip.”
    “I’ve got a current MasterCard in her name. It wasn’t in her purse, or on the scene.”
    “If he took it, he’ll use it. Asshole. Let’s put out the alert. Maybe we’ll save ourselves a trip down Ninety-five.”
    Reena wrote the report, did a search for known associates.
    “The only tie I can find to Baltimore is an inmate on his block at Red Onion. Guy’s still inside, doing a nickel for dealing.”
    “Jamal got busted for possession with intent. Maybe he came up this way looking to move in with his pal’s connections.”
    “There’s no record on De Wanna Johnson. No criminal, no juvie, no arrests. But she and Gregg went to the same high school.”
    O’Donnell tipped down the reading glasses he’d been forced to use. “High school sweethearts?”
    “Stranger things. He gets out, scoops her up, and they’re off to Baltimore—on her dime, in her car. Must be love. I’m going to call the address listed on her license, see what I can dig out.”
    “Let me update the captain,” O’Donnell said. “See if he wants us to go to Richmond on this.”
    When O’Donnell came back, Reena held up a finger. “I appreciate that, Mrs. Johnson. If you hear from your daughter, or hear anything about Jamal Gregg’s whereabouts, please contact me. You have my number. Yes. Thank you.”
    Reena pushed back in her chair. “High school sweethearts. In fact, so sweet, De Wanna has a five-year-old daughter. Her mother’s got the kid. Jamal and DeWanna left three days ago—over the mother’s objections. Job opportunity. She said her girl didn’t have a brain cell working when it came to that no-account, and she hopes we lock the thieving bastard up good this time, so her girl has a chance to make a decent life. I didn’t tell her the probability is high De Wanna’s already lost her chance.”

    “Got one kid by her. He just gets out of prison, ready to get something going, and she tells him she’s got another cooking. He loses it, does her, lights her, takes her credit card, cash, car.”
    “Works for me.”
    “We’re getting cleared to drive down to Richmond. Hold on.” He picked up his ringing phone. “Arson Unit. O’Donnell. Yeah. Yeah.” He scribbled as he spoke. “Stall the authorization. We’re on our way.”
    Reena was already up, grabbing her jacket. “Where?”
    “Liquor store on Central.”
    Reena grabbed a radio on the run, requested backup.
    He was gone when they got there, and frustration had Reena standing in the rain, kicking the rear tire of the car Jamal had left sitting at the curb. She pulled out her cell phone when it sang. “Hale. Okay. Got it.” She clicked off. “Victim was six weeks pregnant. Cause of death, bludgeoning.”
    “That’s fast work for the ME.”
    “I sweet-talked him. He couldn’t have gone far. Even if he decided to ditch the car, he couldn’t have gone far.”
    “So we look for him. Get in out of the rain.” O’Donnell slid behind the wheel again. “Got the APB out. He’s on foot. He’s pissed off he didn’t get his booze.”
    “Bar. Where’s the closest bar?”
    O’Donnell looked at her and grinned. “Now that’s thinking.” He turned the corner, nodded. “Let’s have a look.”
    It was called Hideout. A number of patrons seemed to be doing just that, holed up with a bottle on a rainy afternoon.
    Jamal was at the end of the bar, drinking boilermakers.
    He was off the stool like lightning, and sprinting toward the back.
    Good eye for cops, was Reena’s only thought as she ran after him. She hit the alley door three steps ahead of O’Donnell. She evaded the metal trash can Jamal heaved. O’Donnell didn’t.
    “You hurt?” she called back.
    “Get him. I’m right behind you.”

    Jamal was fast, but so was she. When he scurried up and