The Dead Room

forward claiming to have seen Pine do this suddenly disappeared.’

Ezekiel said Big Red had put him in a hotel. Alone.

He said he had someone watching the hotel – someone he trusted.

Had her father trusted Artie?

‘I’m not saying Pine is involved with what’s happening now,’ Chadzynski said, ‘but, given what I’ve uncovered, I want Anti-Corruption to take a closer look at him. Until he’s been properly vetted, I don’t want you feeding him any information about these cases.’

‘And when Artie calls me, what do you want me to tell him?’

‘Tell him the truth. Tell him Lieutenant Warner has taken over the investigation. If Detective Pine has any questions, he’s to contact Mr Warner. He’s the lead on this now. You’re to funnel all information through him. When are you planning on speaking with Mr Cooper?’

‘As soon as I get back to the lab.’ Darby felt a cold place in her stomach. ‘Do I need to bring Lieutenant Warner with me?’

‘No. I’ll have him question Mr Cooper at a later point here in my office. You’re to call me after you’ve spoken with him, then file a report and give it to Mr Warner.’

‘Understood.’

Chadzynski hung up. Darby handed the phone back to Warner. He slipped it inside his pocket without taking his eyes off the road. He didn’t speak, just kept driving. She could see the tall buildings of downtown Boston looming in the distance. She stared at them and for some reason was reminded of a quote from one of her father’s favourite baseball players, the great pitcher Satchel Paige: ‘Don’t look back. Something might be gaining on you.’

50

Jamie walked down the garage steps lugging her suitcase, a battered black monstrosity she had purchased shortly before her honeymoon. It had travelled with her to St Lucia and then later, throughout the States with Dan and the kids. She hoisted it into the back of the minivan and stared at it for some moments.

I’m really doing this, she thought. I’m just going to jump in my car with the kids and drive west until we find San Diego.

She had been fine at the bank. When she gave the teller the signed form to close her savings and chequing accounts, she had expected a moment of panic. Instead, she’d had a burst of clarity. The teller came back with an envelope holding a little over five grand in cash, and when she held it, she knew leaving was the only way she could protect her kids now. To do it right, she’d need to create new identities for them. She knew how to do it. Carter was too young to understand, but Michael would. First, she would have a long talk with him about Ben Masters. Not now. Later, once they got settled. She walked out of the back smiling at the thought of a fresh start, a brand-new slate for all of them.

That feeling changed when she went to the liquor store in Wellesley Hills.

The young-looking guy who worked behind the counter – tall and lanky with thick black hair and smooth tanned skin – had gone out of his way to find some larger boxes. He insisted on bringing them out to the car.

‘Are you Jamie Russo?’ he asked.

She stared at him, wondering how he had recognized her.

He blushed. ‘You sort of look like her. That’s why I was asking.’

She nodded. ‘I’m… ah… ah… Jamie.’

‘I sort of knew your husband. Dan would come in every other week or so and buy a bottle of Johnnie Walker. We’d talk about the Sox or whatever for a bit. Your husband was a real good guy, and I… I’m sorry about what happened to him and… everything else.’

Dan bought a bottle of booze once a week, she thought numbly as she drove home. How long had you been doing that, Dan? I never saw you drinking during the week – then again, how could I, since you were spending all of your time in the basement. What were you doing down there? Why were you drinking so much? And how come I never saw a single empty Johnnie Walker bottle in the recycling bin? Did you hide them in the rubbish?

Jamie felt a sudden rising tide of bitterness aimed at this liquor store clerk who owned some piece of her husband she didn’t know – would never know. A part of her wanted to turn around, drive back to the liquor store and interrogate him. Do you know why my husband was drinking so much? Did he seem upset? Did he tell you anything? How did he act? Tell me about every conversation you remember because I want to fill this goddamn hole I’ve been carrying inside my chest for the past five years.

She didn’t turn around, just kept driving, suddenly aware about how she would always be anchored to Wellesley. By leaving, she would never know why Dan was killed. Sure, she could take some satisfaction in knowing Ben Masters was dead, but Kevin Reynolds was still out there, Reynolds and this still unknown third man, Judas.

She kept checking her rear-view and side mirrors to see if anyone was tailing her. By leaving now, she realized that no matter where she went, this was how she would spend the rest of her life – always looking in her rear-view mirror, always looking over her shoulder.

Jamie slammed the hatchback shut, went inside the house and grabbed the keys from the kitchen drawer for the dead room.

Michael was helping Carter select which toys to pack. She had given each a single box; she wouldn’t have any more room inside the minivan with the clothes and boxes of documents and other paperwork she didn’t want to leave behind. She had expected some resistance to this whole sudden pack-up-and-leave plan, maybe even a change of heart. Michael went right to work without any argument. Carter kept asking if they were going to live at Disney World.

She opened the door to the dead room and closed it behind her. Bright sunlight flooded the room. The furniture was still here, washed of blood, and she had thrown out the old bedding. All that remained were the mattress and the dusty valance covering the box spring.

She grabbed the pictures from the walls and placed them inside the box, thinking about the minivan, how Kevin Reynolds had stood only a few feet from it this morning.

So close, she thought. He was so goddamn close, if only I had stepped out of the minivan more quickly…

She heard a car pull into her driveway. She went to the window and saw a black Honda.

Oh my Jesus, that looks like Kevin Reynolds’s car.

Jamie dropped the box, about to call out for the kids, when she saw a man in black trousers and matching short-sleeved shirt stepping outside. Father Humphrey.

She didn’t want to invite him inside the house, didn’t feel like fielding questions about her sudden move. She ran back downstairs and hit the button to open a garage bay.

Father Humphrey rushed inside, face flushed.

‘Good, I’m glad I caught you,’ he said. ‘I’ve been calling you all afternoon.’

‘I… ah… stepped… ah –’

‘It doesn’t matter.’ Humphrey brushed past her, knees cracking, and walked across the garage. He hit the button for the bay door.

‘What… ah… ah…’ She couldn’t get the words out, watching Humphrey dart around the minivan to look through a window.

‘Has anyone come by the house?’ he asked. ‘Anyone you haven’t recognized?’

Every muscle in her body tensed.

Humphrey moved away from the window. ‘How do you know a man named Kevin Reynolds?’

Jamie opened her mouth but couldn’t speak. The dread she’d been carrying wrapped its tentacles around her throat.

‘His sister lives in Wellesley, not far from here,’ Humphrey said. ‘You might’ve seen her in church. She’s a