HANK ALREADY had Raymond Ronson’s address from his driver’s license, but he wanted a little more information on the man before proceeding with the uncomfortable task he now faced. He gave Callaway a call and waited on the line while the cop looked up the information on Raymond Ronson. He wondered if he would ever get used to being a homicide detective. Many years ago, he’d been taught never to get emotionally invested with the victims, just do his job and get on with it. But he’d never been able to do that. He took the murder of innocent victims personally, and he knew if he stopped caring, he wouldn’t be able to do his job effectively. His heart sank when he heard the news from Callaway. Raymond Ronson had a wife. Her name was Eunice and she was sixty-seven years old. Probably married to the same man all of her life, and now the news was going to tear her apart. “She lives at 827 Flamingo Pond Road,” Callaway continued. “No kids. No driver’s license registered in her name.
