it.’
‘You might want to keep these thoughts to yourself while you’re out in the dating pool. Just a suggestion.’
After Coop and the others left, Darby sat alone in thehouse, waiting for the patrolman to deliver copies of the case files, which had been promised by Williams.
The man arrived a few minutes past 7.30. He had a handlebar moustache and smelled of pipe tobacco. The nametag stitched into the breast of his coat read MILLER . He stood on the front porch, and he didn’t ask to come in.
Not that Darby would have let him: every person allowed access to a crime scene increased the risk of contamination or the destruction of evidence.
‘Evidence files are in my trunk,’ the patrolman said to Darby. ‘You done in here?’
Darby nodded. ‘Does Williams want me to seal the door?’
‘No, just lock it up. Mike will seal it.’ Miller jerked a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the patrol car parked in front of the driveway. ‘He’s taking the night shift.’
‘Williams told me David Downes had a secretary, Sally something.’
‘Sally Kelly.’
‘Do you know her address? I’d like to talk to her tonight.’
‘I don’t know it off the top of my head, but I can get it for you.’
Darby grabbed her jacket and the keys to Coop’s rental. She placed the time of her departure on the security log, shut off all the lights and locked the door behind her. She carried her box of evidence to Miller’s patrol car, where she exchanged it for one stuffed with files.
Miller had written Sally Kelly’s address on a piece of paper. Darby plugged it into the GPS.
The faces of the dead crowded her thoughts as she drove through the pitch-black roads. They had streetlights, but they were turned off. She suspected the struggling town had cut the power to save money.
Darby was halfway through her sixteen-mile trip when she realized she’d left her kit at the house. She wanted to use her own equipment at the autopsies that she hoped would take place tomorrow. Not wanting to have to get up early to come and retrieve it, she turned around and backtracked to the Downes home.
Fifteen minutes later, when she pulled up against the kerb and parked a few feet behind the police cruiser assigned to watch the house, she felt her throat constrict, her breath like shards of glass trapped in her chest.
The lights for the master bedroom had been turned on.
13
Darby could see a shadow moving behind the shade facing the street. Then she looked to the cruiser bathed in the beam of her headlights and, seeing it was empty, killed the headlights and the ignition. She pocketed the keys as she threw open the car door, the veins in her temple and arms humming with what felt like an electrical charge.
This isn’t your case , an inner voice warned. You’re a consultant, nothing more than a hired hand. Cool it or you’ll get bounced .
Darby walked on to the driveway and saw a silhouette out of the corner of her eye. The patrolman assigned to watch the house stood in the woods to her right, steam rising from the tree where he was relieving himself.
Darby didn’t break stride; she continued towards the house.
‘Nature called,’ he said, fumbling with his zipper as he staggered down the slope of snow. ‘You know how it is on a watch.’
Darby didn’t answer.
The patrolman chased after her. Then he darted in front of her, blocking her access to the walkway.
‘Something I can help you with?’
‘You can get out of my way,’ Darby said.
The patrolman didn’t move. He was her height but wide across the shoulders, probably in his early thirties,and he had the kind of pitted, acne-scarred skin that looked like it had been worked over by a cheese grater.
‘You can’t go in there until tomorrow,’ he said, panting, his breath steaming in the cold air. ‘Boss’s orders. He doesn’t –’
‘He in there? Williams?’
‘No. Place is locked up, remember?’
‘I know. I locked the door myself and shut off all
‘You might want to keep these thoughts to yourself while you’re out in the dating pool. Just a suggestion.’
After Coop and the others left, Darby sat alone in thehouse, waiting for the patrolman to deliver copies of the case files, which had been promised by Williams.
The man arrived a few minutes past 7.30. He had a handlebar moustache and smelled of pipe tobacco. The nametag stitched into the breast of his coat read MILLER . He stood on the front porch, and he didn’t ask to come in.
Not that Darby would have let him: every person allowed access to a crime scene increased the risk of contamination or the destruction of evidence.
‘Evidence files are in my trunk,’ the patrolman said to Darby. ‘You done in here?’
Darby nodded. ‘Does Williams want me to seal the door?’
‘No, just lock it up. Mike will seal it.’ Miller jerked a thumb over his shoulder, in the direction of the patrol car parked in front of the driveway. ‘He’s taking the night shift.’
‘Williams told me David Downes had a secretary, Sally something.’
‘Sally Kelly.’
‘Do you know her address? I’d like to talk to her tonight.’
‘I don’t know it off the top of my head, but I can get it for you.’
Darby grabbed her jacket and the keys to Coop’s rental. She placed the time of her departure on the security log, shut off all the lights and locked the door behind her. She carried her box of evidence to Miller’s patrol car, where she exchanged it for one stuffed with files.
Miller had written Sally Kelly’s address on a piece of paper. Darby plugged it into the GPS.
The faces of the dead crowded her thoughts as she drove through the pitch-black roads. They had streetlights, but they were turned off. She suspected the struggling town had cut the power to save money.
Darby was halfway through her sixteen-mile trip when she realized she’d left her kit at the house. She wanted to use her own equipment at the autopsies that she hoped would take place tomorrow. Not wanting to have to get up early to come and retrieve it, she turned around and backtracked to the Downes home.
Fifteen minutes later, when she pulled up against the kerb and parked a few feet behind the police cruiser assigned to watch the house, she felt her throat constrict, her breath like shards of glass trapped in her chest.
The lights for the master bedroom had been turned on.
13
Darby could see a shadow moving behind the shade facing the street. Then she looked to the cruiser bathed in the beam of her headlights and, seeing it was empty, killed the headlights and the ignition. She pocketed the keys as she threw open the car door, the veins in her temple and arms humming with what felt like an electrical charge.
This isn’t your case , an inner voice warned. You’re a consultant, nothing more than a hired hand. Cool it or you’ll get bounced .
Darby walked on to the driveway and saw a silhouette out of the corner of her eye. The patrolman assigned to watch the house stood in the woods to her right, steam rising from the tree where he was relieving himself.
Darby didn’t break stride; she continued towards the house.
‘Nature called,’ he said, fumbling with his zipper as he staggered down the slope of snow. ‘You know how it is on a watch.’
Darby didn’t answer.
The patrolman chased after her. Then he darted in front of her, blocking her access to the walkway.
‘Something I can help you with?’
‘You can get out of my way,’ Darby said.
The patrolman didn’t move. He was her height but wide across the shoulders, probably in his early thirties,and he had the kind of pitted, acne-scarred skin that looked like it had been worked over by a cheese grater.
‘You can’t go in there until tomorrow,’ he said, panting, his breath steaming in the cold air. ‘Boss’s orders. He doesn’t –’
‘He in there? Williams?’
‘No. Place is locked up, remember?’
‘I know. I locked the door myself and shut off all
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