The Dead Room

Edgar’s nasal voice came back on the line. ‘I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, Dr McCormick. What’s the address?’

She gave it to him. ‘Do you know how to get to Charlestown?’

‘No, but it doesn’t matter. My wife purchased a portable GPS unit for my car, so even a directionally challenged person like myself will have no trouble finding the address. Now tell me what you found.’

‘Three sets of remains, one in a state of advanced decomposition. The other two are fully skeletonized. They appear female. You can forget using dental records to ID the remains. Their teeth were pulled out before they were buried. And the person or persons who did it also cut off their hands and feet. It’s a classic mob burial before the days of DNA.

‘I sifted through the dirt and didn’t find any metacarpal or carpal bones. When you examine the tibia, you’ll see grooves that I think are consistent with a circular saw.’

‘Hopefully we can ID them through some other means,’ Edgar said. ‘I’d hate to use mitochondrial DNA testing. It’s very time consuming, in addition to being expensive.’

Edgar was worried about the city’s bean counters. Not a good sign.

‘There may be more remains buried down here,’ she said. ‘I dug up only a small part of the dirt cellar. A good part of it is laid in concrete, so I’d like you to bring in your sonar equipment. You’ll also need some additional bodies to help move the furniture. The space is rather small, so I’d suggest no more than three or four people.’

‘Dr Carter left me a list of graduate students. I don’t have the list handy, so I’ll have to stop by my office first. I apologize: I’m not usually this disorganized.’

‘There’s no rush. You’ll be here for a while – probably a good part of the night.’ And so will I, Darby added privately. She had called in additional forensic teams to help process the house.

‘Dr McCormick, unless there’s some urgency, I’d prefer to examine the remains in situ.’

‘I thought you might. I did a little digging around the bones to see if I could find any clothing or jewellery that might help us, but, other than that, everything is undisturbed.’

‘Thank you,’ Edgar said. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

Darby snapped her phone shut, wishing she could go home and take a long shower. Her damp clothes clung to her skin and she felt as grimy as this bedroom’s window. She glanced at her watch. Half past ten.

Flashbulbs started popping from the street. She could hear the rapid machine-gun click-click- click of dozens of cameras snapping pictures, like this was a goddamn paparazzi event, as the two male attendants from the medical examiner’s office, wearing masks and coveralls, walked down the front steps carrying a black body bag holding Peter Alan. Cameras were held in the air to capture and record the footage. Cameramen stood on the roofs of news vans and cars, on the pavement and front stoops, along with some of the neighbours. Across the street, on the corner, a woman wearing a pink tank top and matching short-shorts stood barefoot on the front stairs of a home talking to a burly, bald man.

That’s the driver of the brown van. He’s wearing the same light grey suit and brown trousers.

Without taking her eyes off him, Darby opened her phone and hit the programmed number for Coop’s mobile.

‘Where are you?’ she asked when he answered.

‘I’m in the basement.’

‘Go upstairs to the living room and look out of the window facing the street. I’ll explain when you get there.’

Baldy stood close to the woman, speaking near her ear. The woman’s arms were crossed over her chest and she stared down at her bare feet.

Darby glanced around the street. No sign of a brown van. It’s probably parked on one of the side streets.

‘Okay,’ Coop said, ‘I’m here.’

‘Look across the street to your right. See the woman with the tight pink shorts? Has the word “trouble” stitched across her ass?’

‘I see her.’

‘The guy standing to her right, the one that’s built like a beer keg? I saw him this morning in Belham – he was the one driving the van,’ Darby said. ‘I want you to keep an eye on him while I talk to Jennings.’

35

Darby clipped the phone to her belt as she moved out of the bedroom. She took the steps quickly and made her way through the officers packed inside the kitchen.

Jennings stood in the archway between the kitchen and the living room. She stepped up beside him, catching sight of Coop watching the street through one of the windows, then turned to the crowd. Jennings was still talking when she cut him off.

‘Excuse me, Detective. Gentlemen, I need your attention here, and I need it now… Thank you. I have to speak quickly, so listen up. There’ll be no follow-up questions.’

She had organized her thoughts and spoke quickly but clearly.

‘Jackson Cooper is in the living room watching an older white male standing across the street. This man is bald, about six feet, and built like a beer keg. He’s wearing a light grey sports jacket and brown dress trousers. He’s also armed. This is a person of interest both for this investigation and for the one that’s currently under way in Belham. He’s working with one or more people who may be posing as Federal agents. They may be driving a brown van with a Mass. licence plate.’

She gave them the plate number. ‘Even if the van isn’t here, I’m sure he didn’t come alone. I want you to form groups and create a perimeter by going to the following street corners.’

She knew Charlestown well and rattled off the street names. Then she turned to Coop and said, ‘Is the subject still across the street?’

‘He is,’ Coop said.

‘Okay, good,’ she said, turning back to the men. ‘Get a visual before you leave. Under no circumstances are you to use your radios. I believe these people are monitoring police frequencies.’

She pointed to a man standing directly in front of her and said, ‘Give me your mobile phone number.’

He did. She quickly programmed it into her phone.

‘What’s your name?’ Darby asked.

‘Gavin.’

‘If I need assistance or if there’s a problem, I’ll contact Gavin. I’ll let Detective Jennings take over from here.’

‘And what are you going to do?’ a patrolman in the back asked.

‘I’m going to introduce myself,’ Darby said, ‘welcome him to the neighbourhood.’

Soft laughter.

She opened the back door to an alley of rubbish bins and black bags She ran across the alley, then hooked a left and sprinted across Thatcher Street, the gun holster knocking against her hip. Now a right on to Grover. In less than a minute she’d reach Grafton. Take a right there, run across it and then make her way back up to the top of Old Rutherford Street, where Baldy was standing. Maybe three minutes of running total.

All those mornings spent running in her SWAT gear had paid off. She felt light and fast on her feet and made good time.

She banged a right on to Grafton, surprised to see Baldy trotting across the pavement in his leather wingtips.

Why hadn’t Coop called her?

Darby slowed to a walk, beads of sweat running down her forehead and into her eyes. Her heart pounded, but she wasn’t winded.