‘It’s a shovel. You use it to dig up things. There’s one more in that hole. Get to work and I’ll help you with the other one when I get back. You can use those gloves there on the workbench so you don’t ruin your manicure.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Your boss offered your burial removal services,’ Kevin said. ‘Welcome to my side of the fence, champ.’
20
The front door slammed shut. Jamie listened to the man breathing somewhere near the armoire as she replayed fragments of the conversation. The man named Peter had tried to visit the boy named Sean and ended up speaking to this McCormick woman from the Boston PD. How had he gained access to the room? Had he posed as a cop?
Enough thinking. Time to act.
She was about to sit up when she remembered the keys and phone tucked inside her jacket pocket. If she sat up too fast or moved too quickly, the keys would make noise. If the man heard anything, it might give him enough time to reach for his gun – or swing his shovel.
He started digging. She lifted her head, looked through the gap: she saw tanned hands gripping a shovel, and white shirt cuffs with gold cufflinks sticking out from a blue suit jacket. She couldn’t see his face.
Jamie placed one hand on her right pocket, feeling the keys and phone beneath the nylon fabric. Hugging her body close to the back of the chest, she slowly moved up to a sitting position. A pins-and-needles sensation worked its way through her legs.
Peter kept digging.
She got to her feet fast, blood rushing to her head, making her dizzy.
‘Freeze.’
The man jumped, dropping the shovel. He was taller than she expected – his lisp and soft, effeminate voice had conjured up an image of a short man with flabby arms. The middle-aged man standing in front of her had a lean build. He wore a dark blue suit without a tie. The jacket was unbuttoned and she could see a shoulder holster.
Using her hip, she pushed the chest to one side.
‘Floor,’ she said, stepping over the grave. ‘Get… ah…’
‘Flo… Floor. Now.’
His brown eyes blinked, then narrowed. ‘I know you.’
‘
‘Okay, okay. Just take it easy… it’s Julia, right?” He hiked up his trousers before kneeling. Then he clasped his hands behind his head. ‘I remember reading about you in the papers.’
She slammed him down against the floor, pressed the Glock against the back of his head. He breathed in dirt and started coughing.
‘Don’t… ah… ah… move.’
He turned his head to the side and said, ‘You have my word.’
She pulled back his suit jacket and reached for the shoulder holster.
‘Since you were hiding down here, I think it’s safe to assume you heard my conversation with Mr Reynolds.’
She tossed the nine into the grave.
‘And I’m assuming you’re the one who shot up the Belham house last night.’
She ran a hand across his belt. No handcuffs. She needed something that she could use to tie him up. She looked at the workbench. Paint cans and tools covered in dust.
‘What happened to your husband and children, I didn’t have anything to do with that. You have to believe me. That… that was all Kevin and Ben. You know Ben, don’t you? He was at the house last night. Did you speak to him? What did he tell you?’
There was nothing here with which she could tie him up, nothing at all.
‘I can tell you everything you need to know, but I need to sit up. I have asthma and I’m finding it hard to breathe. I need my inhaler. I’m going to sit up, reach inside my pocket for it, and then we can talk, okay?’
He spoke calmly. She didn’t like it. Was he going to try to stall her until Kevin came back? Did he think she was that stupid?
‘If you want me to talk, I need to use my inhaler first,’ he said. ‘If I don’t, I’m going to pass out.’
She stood.
‘Ben’s… ah… partners. Two men… ah… at… ah… my house.’
‘Let me get my inhaler.’ Breathing hard, wheezing. ‘I’m going to reach into my pocket –’
‘Names… ah… first.’
‘Just give me a second, okay?’ Slowly he reached inside his jacket pocket.
She shot him in the chest.
The exit wound sprayed the back wall with blood. He put out his hands and said, ‘Wait, please,’ and she pressed the trigger and held it down, the Glock’s semi-automatic action kicking in, spitting spent shells into the air.
Jamie wrapped the jacket’s nylon hood around her head, tying it off underneath her chin. Ears ringing, she ran up the stairs to the front door and looked out of the oval window. No one outside. She tucked the Glock inside her shoulder holster, zipped up her jacket and opened the door. No one coming. Her gloved hands inside her pocket, she jogged across the street, which was still pounding with summer rain.
21
Darby sat in the back of the hot taxi as it fought its way through the heavy traffic on Mass. Avenue. She had Artie on the phone. The pounding rain and car horns made it difficult to hear.
She pressed her palm against her other ear to try to block out the noise. ‘Say that again.’
‘I said I’m on my way back from Vermont. I just finished going through Amy Hallcox’s place. Can you hear me?’
‘I can hear you.’
‘Someone tossed it. It’s a small house and she doesn’t have a lot of stuff – there’s barely any furniture in there. Got in touch with the landlord and the guy said she’s been living there for about a year, pays on time, no problems. She had about two months to go on the lease but I get the feeling she might’ve been planning to move again. She’s got a bunch of empty boxes stored in one of the rooms. As for why it was tossed and what they were looking for, right now your guess is as good as mine.’
‘Anybody see anything?’
‘No. The house is real isolated – the closest neighbour is a mile away, so these guys took their time. We
