Max shoved her to the side, and they tumbled onto the ground next to a dumpster as the car screamed past, so close Kara felt the heat of the engine, and the smell of exhaust choked the narrow alley as the vehicle disappeared as fast as it had come.
She was still catching her breath when Max jumped to his feet and sprinted down the alley after the car. By the time she pushed herself up and brushed the gravel off her clothes, he was already walking back, shaking his head, anger in every tight line of his expression.
"Gone," he said. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Thanks for the save." She was a little disappointed in herself for not seeing the danger as quickly as he had, but she wasn't going to tell him that. "Did you catch a number on the license plate?"
"No."
She pulled out her phone. "I need to call this in. Let's go back to Jonas's apartment."
As they walked down the alley and around the corner to the front of the building, she made a note of the street address. Once they had reentered the apartment, she called her Team Ops Center, which was manned 24/7, while Max looked around. He clearly knew not to touch anything, skirting the path around the victim and ignoring Jonas's phone, which was lying in a pool of blood. There could be important evidence on that phone, but it might take time to open it.
After the dispatcher confirmed NYPD and EMS were on their way, she ended the call and walked over to the body, squatting down beside the victim. Her experienced gaze took in the details of the attack. The attacker had probably come up from behind Jonas, and the knife had been quick and deadly.
There was no other apparent bruising on Jonas's face, no evidence of a fight. Since there had also been no sign of forced entry, it appeared Jonas had let his attacker in. Whether that was because he knew that person or because it was an expected delivery or meeting that had gone south, she could only speculate.
Getting to her feet, she texted Tyler that she'd found Jonas, the man who'd spilled the coffee on Samantha Barkley, and that he was deceased. She would fill him in tomorrow. While she knew the ops center would contact Jason as a matter of protocol, she didn't want to leave Tyler out of the loop.
A moment later, her phone rang. "Tyler, you didn't need to call me back. I know it's late."
"It's fine. How did you find him?"
"Long story," she said as sirens lit up the air. "I showed Max Malone the sketch. He recognized Jonas as someone he'd seen at a gym where he'd taken Samantha. One thing led to another. I can fill you in later. The police are here."
"Give me the address."
"You don't have to come."
"I'm not doing anything else."
She gave him the address and ended the call as Max came out of the bedroom.
"I'm going to take off," he said.
"Now? You need to wait for the police."
"Why? Aren't you in charge of the investigation? You know what I know, and you also know where to find me. I don't need to be in the middle of this." He was already moving toward the door.
"Max—"
"I'll call you tomorrow. Be careful, Kara. The killer could have made a cleaner exit. He didn't have to come back down that alley and try to run us over. Someone knows we're not far behind them."
"I just wish I knew who that someone was," she said, but her words fell into the void of silence left by his quick departure.
Her lips tightened as she wondered why he'd exited so quickly. Was it just about staying away from law enforcement? Or had he found something while she was on the phone? She hoped it was the former and not the latter, because she had thought they were on the same side. Maybe that thought had been premature.
She walked into the bedroom, which was a cluttered mess with an unmade bed, clothes, and empty snack bags. The bathroom was in the same state. There was a desk with a couple of half-open drawers, which she carefully opened with her sleeve. But the mess inside didn't seem worth digging through.
If Jonas was part of a bigger plot, and it certainly appeared that he was, she doubted any evidence of that was in this mess. It was more likely that they would find some kind of digital or payment trail.
The sound of voices sent her back into the living room as two uniformed police officers arrived. She showed them her badge and then stepped back as they moved toward Jonas.
"Messy," one of them commented. "Was he dead when you got here?"
"Yes."
A moment later, an older man in a wrinkled suit came through the door. Detective Stuart Margolin was a seasoned detective with twenty years under his belt and a man who was more loyal to his fellow officers than to the truth.
