The Dead Room

‘The entire lab is in Belham processing the house. Did you read my report?’ Darby had filed it late the previous night before crashing on the office sofa.

‘I read it first thing this morning,’ Chadzynski said. ‘It’s all over the news, what happened in Belham, the hospital, all of it.’

‘Did the news mention anything about the FBI trying to take over the investigation?’

‘No, they didn’t.’ She seemed to be drawing out her words, measuring each one carefully before she spoke. ‘Those men you saw in the woods – have you heard anything?’

‘Nothing’s come over the wire about any hospitals treating a white male for a gunshot wound, but Pine and his men are calling around just to be sure. He’s on his way to Vermont to meet with the police to go through Amy Hallcox’s apartment.’

‘You mentioned the woman’s parents were murdered but you didn’t list any details.’

‘Her son didn’t give me any, and I can’t find any homicides involving the name Hallcox.’

‘Do you have any news on the boy’s condition?’

‘I just got off the phone with the neurologist,’ Darby said, and told Chadzynski about her conversation with Dr Goldstein.

‘How did the Hallcox boy get the gun?’ Chadzynski asked. ‘It wasn’t mentioned in your report.’

‘I didn’t find out until this morning. He had a thigh holster. His baggy shorts covered it.’

‘I can’t believe no one noticed it.’

‘He wasn’t a suspect, so there was no reason for anyone to pat him down. When the EMTs brought him to the hospital, the kid refused to let anyone touch him. Threw a fit, the doctor told me. He was in shock, so they gave him some space to calm down. Based upon what the boy told me last night, I wouldn’t be surprised if the mother gave the revolver to him.’

‘What’s this business about him requesting to speak to your father?’

‘I don’t know.’ Darby rubbed her face, then ran her fingers through her hair. She couldn’t remember a time when she had felt this tired. ‘Right now your guess is as good as mine.’

‘Did you get any sleep?’

‘Maybe a couple of hours. Every time I shut my eyes, all I can see is that kid slamming the muzzle underneath his chin. If that Fed hadn’t come into the room, Sean wouldn’t be in a coma.’

‘The boy was in shock, Darby. The commotion alone –’

‘Sean was talking to me. I’d finally got him to a place where he trusted me – he told me his real name was Sean. He was going to tell me the truth about his grandparents – why they were killed, the names of the people who did it. He was going to tell me everything and then that prick came in waving his badge and saying he was taking over the investigation and moving the kid. He scared the shit out of him.’

‘That might very well be true. But, with all due respect, your professionalism can be called into question.’

Darby leaned back in her chair, waiting for the rest of it. Chadzynski might have a cop’s blue blood running through her veins but she had the heart of a politician. She was quietly assembling people to help plan her campaign to run for governor. The real reason for her visit was damage control.

‘I understand you assaulted him,’ Chadzynski said.

‘Is that what he called it?’

‘I’m asking you.’

‘We had a minor confrontation. I mentioned that in my report.’

‘Yes, I know. I also know about your personal history with the FBI. Tell me what happened.’

‘Did you read the part where Special Agent Phillips didn’t stick around the hospital? That he bolted along with my tape recorder?’

‘You’re positive about that accusation?’

‘I checked with everyone who was there. Except Phillips, of course. When I get through with him, he’ll be shitting bones for a week.’

‘Eloquently put, as always. I haven’t spoken to Special Agent Phillips or anyone from the Albany field office. I need to know how to handle this, so tell me exactly what happened.’

Darby’s phone rang. She looked at the caller-ID.

‘Speak of the devil,’ she said, and picked up the phone. ‘Darby McCormick.’

‘This is Dylan Phillips returning your call. How can I help you, Miss McCormick?’

Darby didn’t answer.

The voice on the other end of the line was deep, husky. The Federal agent she met last night had had a slight lisp and a voice that wasn’t as deep. It was lighter, almost effeminate.

‘Miss McCormick?’

‘I’m here. I take it you don’t know who I am.’

‘Should I?’

‘We met last night at St Joseph’s Hospital.’

‘I think you have me confused with someone else. Last night I was at dinner with my daughter and her fiance.’

‘Are you looking for a fugitive named Amy Hallcox?’

‘I don’t recognize that name. What’s this about?’

‘I don’t know yet, but someone impersonated you last night. I’ll call you back when I have more details.’

‘Please do.’

Darby hung up and turned to her computer. She logged on to the National Crime Information Center.

‘Shit.’

Darby scooped her keys off her desk.

Chadzynski stood. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘NCIC didn’t have a listing for Amy Hallcox. There is no fugitive warrant.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘To the hospital,’ Darby said, coming out from behind the desk. ‘I need to pull last night’s security tapes.’

16

Jamie woke up to bickering voices. Her bedroom door had been shut and Carter was no longer beside her.

‘Stop bossing me around,’ Carter said from behind the door.

‘Keep your voice down,’ Michael hissed. ‘You’ll wake up Mom.’

Too late, she thought, and looked at the alarm clock. It was going on eleven.

Shit. She had overslept and the kids had missed the bus for camp. She’d have to drive them. She whipped off the covers and got out of bed, her head groggy, pounding.

‘I’ll get dressed when I want to,’ Carter said. ‘You’re not the boss of me, pancake balls.’

‘Dumb-dumb, how many times do I have to tell you “pancake balls” doesn’t make any sense?’

‘Oh, yes, it does.’

Jamie opened the door. Her two boys were huddled at the end of the hall in front of the dead room – Carter barefoot and dressed in his Batman pyjamas, a black Batman mask covering his face; Michael wearing baggy shorts, sneakers and another one of Dan’s old Bruce Springsteen concert T-shirts. They were too big for Michael’s slender frame but he wore them anyway – to stay close to his father, she suspected, to try to keep him from fading.

‘Jesus, Mom,’ Michael said, coming closer. ‘What happened to your face?’

‘Fell. I… ah… tripped in… ah… ah… hospital. Garage. Hit… ah… bumper. Car bumper.’

Michael stared at her the way Dan used to, with that X-ray vision glare that told her he’d caught her in a lie.