Matter of Trust by Sydney Bauer Page A

in being surrounded by kids from his old neighbourhood. ‘But, if you don’t mind, I am going to take my beer into the study.’ All these memories were reminding him of the task at hand – the need to return the brief message left by
his
old schoolfriend late this afternoon.
    â€˜I’ll assume that was your one and only Bud, though.’ He managed a smile as he met Jack Delgado’s eye. ‘I know both your moms, and I don’t think they’d appreciate my serving a trio of underage boys some icy-cold Buds before dinner.’
    â€˜Of course,’ said Will. ‘You’re a champion, Mr K, and your secret is safe with us,’ he added.
    Chris could have sworn Connor shuddered.
    â€˜You know, Will, you are one of the few people in this city who feels comfortable enough to call me Mr K,’ he responded, with what he hoped sounded like a light-hearted chuckle. ‘And you have to promise me that whatever title they end up putting before my name, that you will never call me anything else.’
    He looked at Connor, whose dark, brooding face managed a rare smile.
    â€˜You got it, future Mr President.
Oops!
I mean, Mr K,’ said Will.
    Chris grinned, thinking this kid probably had the makings of a President himself.
    â€˜Thanks, Dad,’ said Connor then, and for the slightest of moments he thought he detected a trace of sadness in his son’s dark eyes.
    â€˜No problem, son,’ he said as he took the beer from Connor’s outstretched hand, their eyes meeting for just a second before Connor dropped his gaze.
    Unable to help himself, Chris drew his son into a tight and unexpected embrace – Connor’s body taut and stiff, obviously not used to such open displays of affection in a household devoid of physical shows of emotion.
    â€˜I love you, son,’ he whispered into his oldest child’s ear, before releasing him once again, and moving quickly, quietly from the room.
    Boston, Massachusetts
    It was barely eight but Sara had already fallen asleep horizontally across the bed, exhausted from hours of trying to get an over-energetic Lauren to drift off for at least an hour or two. David sat quietly in the living room, the only light coming from the unusually strong moon beam and the muted TV whose colours danced like rainbows across the kitchen annexe wall.
    His cell was resting on the sofa beside him, and he saw it light up before the ringtone had a chance to kick in. He scooped it up quickly and pressed the receive button so as not to disturb the peace around him, the only noise coming from the hum of the dishwasher, and the unusually loud beating of his heart.
    â€˜Chris,’ he said.
    â€˜DC,’ his friend replied.
    After Chris had apologised for not having had the opportunity to return his call sooner, David started from the beginning and told his friend everything Joe had shared with him earlier in the day. Chris did not interrupt, David hearing his even breathing on the other end of the line.
    And then when David had finally finished, Chris asked the question that David had known he would. And despite his promise to himself, David found himself answering the only way that he could.

11
    Newark, New Jersey
    I t was early Saturday morning and Detective Harry McNally was seated in Salicia Curtis’s Norfolk Street conference room – the Chief Medical Examiner was dressed down in jeans and a cable knit sweater, but still looked uncannily like Angelina Jolie.
    â€˜Thanks for coming in on a Saturday, Sal,’ said McNally.
    â€˜I don’t mind, McNally, and to be honest even if I did, I had no choice.’
    McNally knew that Curtis was referring to the accelerated rate of decomposition of drowning victims once they were brought ashore. After only a few hours on land, the appearance of the body could change completely, which was why the ME had to move fast.
    â€˜Are you sure you want to do this?’ she asked, referring to