The ground was covered with strips of wood, neatly laid side by side, making a solid floor. The back wall was shored up with wooden posts, covered with a piece of drywall. His bed consisted of a thick blanket and an old pillow. A couple of pots hung from the ceiling, and a small shelf unit contained the rest of Sammy’s meager possessions.

But Sammy wasn’t there.

Jake dropped the tarp back in place, climbed down the embankment, and sat on a flat rock by the edge of the river. Unless Sammy had changed his schedule, he should be back soon. In the past, Sammy usually scrounged in the morning, came home for lunch, took a nap, and then scouted around until evening.

He gazed into Richmond River as it rolled gently by, heading south to Lake Ontario. He was determined to find Punky Brown, not only for his own safety, but also for the sake of his family. The relentless killer was unpredictable and seemed desperate, and that made him dangerous.

“Detective Jake, what’re you doing here?”

Jake glanced down the bank. A man in scruffy jeans, a baggy t-shirt, and a tattered baseball cap was heading his way. He held a well-used grocery bag in one hand and he waved with the other.

Jake stood and grinned. He took a step forward and held out his hand. “Sammy. Long time.”

Sammy shook the offered hand and looked at Jake with clear, blue eyes framed by a leathered face. The tip of his shaggy beard rubbed against his shirt as he spoke. “Good to see you again, Jake. What brings you to my humble abode?”

“I need your help again, Sammy.”

“Anything for a friend,” Sammy said, as he kicked aside a soda can with a tattered runner and pointed toward the rock. “Have a chair.”

Jake took a seat as Sammy dropped down on the grass and stretched his legs out, leaning back against his hands. “How’s Detective Annie?”

“Annie’s doing great. She mentions your name from time to time. Wondering how you’re doing.”

“I’m getting by.” Sammy crossed his legs at the ankles and looked up at Jake. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to find a guy named Punky Brown. Apparently, he’s a wannabe hitman, and he’s been taking shots at Annie and me.”

Sammy looked into the river and squinted. “I haven’t heard the name before.” He looked back at Jake. “What’s he look like?”

“That’s the problem. Nobody knows.”

“Somebody knows,” Sammy said.

“With your contacts and undying charm, I’m hoping you can find out something.”

Sammy popped his cap off and brushed back his long, straggly hair with a hand. He put his cap back on. “I expect I can, Jake. Leave it with me and I’ll talk to my street family.”

Jake reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a cell phone. “Here’s a burner phone. Call me when you get anything.”

Sammy took the phone and looked at it. “You’re going to have to remind me again how to work these things. It’s been awhile. The battery died a long time ago in the last one you gave me.”

Jake gave Sammy some quick instructions on how to make a call. “My cell phone number is already in there,” he said. “The battery’s good for a few days if you don’t use it much.”

“I don’t have much use for one of these gadgets,” Sammy said, dropping it into his shirt pocket. “I’ll only be using it to call you, I expect.”

“I hope to hear from you,” Jake said, as he stood. “I’d like to chat awhile, but I want to get back to Annie. Make sure she’s okay.”

“That’s all right,” Sammy said. “I don’t have time to chat either. I have to find Punky Brown.”

Chapter 24

Wednesday, 12:01 p.m.

ANNIE TOOK the last bite of her sandwich, put the plate in the sink, and started a pot of coffee. She put together a lunch for Jake and slid it into the fridge; he’d be hungry when he got back. She poured a cup of coffee, went into the office and sat, staring blankly at her notes and sipping her drink. She didn’t have a whole lot of ideas.

She was startled out of her thoughts when the phone on the desk rang. The caller ID was unknown and she picked it up. “Lincoln Investigations.”

The caller hesitated. She heard light breathing, then, “This is Michael Norton.”

Annie spun her chair around and looked at a piece of electrical equipment on a shelf behind her. The glowing red light assured her the call was being recorded. She turned back to the desk.

“This is Annie Lincoln.” She fumbled for words, unsure what to say. “Where are you, Mr. Norton?”

Another hesitation. “I can’t tell you that, but I … I’ve been watching the news. They’ve got it all wrong. I’m not a murderer, Mrs. Lincoln.”

“Then why don’t you turn yourself in and clear your name?”

“Because I wouldn’t last a day. I’d be killed like Werner Shaft was.”

“Killed? By who?”

“I can’t tell you that either. I can only tell you I’m innocent and I want you to prove it.”

“If you’re innocent, Mr. Norton, my husband and I will do whatever we can, but we have nothing to go on. I’ll need your complete participation and you’ll have to tell me everything.”

There was a pause on the line, silence for so long Annie thought the caller hung up.

“Are you still there?” she asked.

“I’m here.” A deep breath, and then, “I can tell you this. Werner Shaft, his brother Rocky, and I, were involved in a heist a few months ago. It was drug money. Rocky got wind of a big deal going down, so we teamed up and intercepted the money. We agreed to put it away for two years. Not touch it until everything blew over.”

“So you think they found out who did it and they’re after all three of you?” Annie asked.

“No. They had no idea who it was.” Norton sighed. “But I believe Rocky got antsy for the money. He was impatient and was always after us to split it up. We refused. I believe he killed his brother and now he’s after me. He’s greedy that way. He wants it all for himself and he doesn’t want to wait.”

“But to kill his own brother?” Annie said.

“Worse things have taken place over money.” He sighed again. “I wished I’d never gotten involved with those two. They were both bad news from the start. As you probably know, Werner and I did some time in prison together. It was through his carelessness we got caught, and I should’ve stayed as far away from both of them as I could.”

“Mr. Norton, someone hired a hitman to kill my husband and me. Was it you?”

“Why would I do that? I want you to prove my innocence. I’m tired of running for my life. If it means going back to prison for the heist—fine, but I’m not going down for murder.”

Annie came to the only possible conclusion. “Do you think Rocky Shaft is out to kill you?”

“Probably. He killed Werner Shaft and he’s after me. And now he’s after you to keep you from finding out the truth.”

“What about the evidence against you?” Annie asked.

“What evidence?”

“A shell casing with your prints on it.”

Norton chuckled. “Planted. It wouldn’t have been hard for Rocky to get ahold of that at one time or another. Probably took it right out of my gun. We hung around from time to time. Had a few beers together, things like that. He had a lot of opportunity.”

“There was a witness that identified your car.”

“Again, not so hard. My wife was babysitting that night and I was at home. My car was parked in the driveway. He could easily have borrowed it without me knowing. Did the witness get the license plate number?”

“No, just the make and model.”

“Then it could’ve been another car the same as mine. Possibly picked it up somewhere. Or borrowed it for the occasion from an unsuspecting person.”

“Why didn’t he kill you as well, or at least attempt to?” Annie asked.

“That wouldn’t serve his purpose. He was using me as a patsy for Shaft’s murder. Kill two birds with one stone, and then grab the money.”