guards were in a car at the entrance to the industrial estate.
‘I can’t believe this is happening again,’ said Keith.
‘We don’t know that,’ said Oran. ‘They could show up yet.’
‘It’s two in the morning. We’ve been here four hours, Butler. Not a chance.’ Oran leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes. He dozed for an hour until the surveillance was called off and Keith drove them back to Waterford station.
Anna had forgotten to ask Shaun about the email he had received at school. She knocked lightly on his bedroom door and walked in. His thumbs were hammering on a Game Boy Advance, his bloodshot eyes focused on the bright screen.
‘I just wanted to know what you were talking about the other day,’ she said. ‘Some email I was supposed to have sent you.’
‘Supposed to,’ snorted Shaun, fixed on the game. ‘Who else would be sending me a photo of your stupid shoot?’
‘But I haven’t even seen those photos yet, Shaun. Brendan hasn’t emailed them to me.’
‘What?’ He lost his last life and threw down the game. ‘Damn!’ He stared at her. ‘But I saw it. In my school account.’
‘Why would I do that? Why would I even use your school account? I’d use Hotmail if I was going to email you. Bring it home to me tomorrow.’
‘I get my school mails forwarded to Hotmail. I can show it to you now.’
They went into the den and Shaun downloaded his mail. He clicked on the newest one. The image appeared on screen. Anna frowned. It was definitely the shoot.
‘But look,’ she said, pointing to the screen.
‘There’s Brendan. He’s in it. He couldn’t have taken this.’
Frank hated being in the station after hours. It was too quiet. He was reading and rereading every statement he had copied. Endless scenarios were running through his head. The phone on his desk rang and he was surprised to hear O’Connor at the other end.
‘Frank? Myles. I’ve a bit of news for you on Katie’s phone records.’
‘Fire away.’
‘The last person she called that night—’
‘She called someone?’
‘No. I should say “the last person she tried to call”…’
‘Yes?’
‘Was you, Frank.’
The house was quiet when Joe got back. He went into the den and closed the door quietly behind him. He took a deep breath, then dialled international directory enquiries for a number in a town that wasn’t even a tiny dot on the world map.
‘Officer Henson, Stinger’s Creek.’ The voice was slow, laconic.
‘My name is Detective Joe Lucchesi, NYPD. I’d like to speak to someone about a local guy, a Duke Rawlins, got out of prison some months back, would have been sent away in the mid-nineties.’
‘Duke Rawlins. Doesn’t sound familiar, but I’m kinda new here. Why are you asking?’
Joe chose his words carefully.
‘You think he might be involved in something? Well, you let me go check that for you,’ said Henson. ‘But I won’t be able to get back to you for a day or two.’
‘I just need—’
‘We lost an officer, detective. Funeral’s tomorrow.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry,’ said Joe. ‘What happened?’
‘Uh, self-inflicted gunshot wound. Tragedy. Former Police Chief, too. Ogden Parnum, a good man. Retired only recently.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Joe.
‘So were we,’ said Henson. ‘Give me your number. I’ll call you as soon as I can.’
Joe turned on the computer and waited while it started up. He connected to the Internet and typed in three words: Stinger’s Creek Parnum. He got several hits on what seemed to be the same story. He clicked on the first one, a short piece from the
‘Jesus Christ,’ said Joe.
TWENTY
Sherman, North Central Texas, 1987
‘One of these days, someone’s gonna snap you right in half, Alexis,’ said Diner Dave, picking up her bony wrist and dropping it back on the counter.
‘Skinny is in, or haven’t you heard?’ said Alexis, pushing her bright plastic bangles up to her elbow and letting them slide down again.
Suddenly, Dave reached out and squeezed her by both hands.
‘You look after yourself out there, sweetheart. I mean that,’ he said.
‘Aw, Dave, you say that to me all the time,’ she said, squeezing back. She stopped. ‘You look so sad.’
‘But I see how you come in sometimes,’ he said.
‘I know what I’m doin’, but thanks for carin’,’ she said. ‘Now, get me a basket of greasy chicken and fries.’
When she had finished eating, she slid off the red leather stool, leaving two hot sweat stains from the bare cheeks under her short satin skirt. She swayed out the door.
‘Bye, Diner Dave!’ she called as she swung the heavy door open. ‘Until the next time,’ she said in a deep superhero voiceover. Her words were drowned out by the meat, slapped and sizzling on the grill in front of Dave.
She walked to the corner, then crossed the street to a rundown brownstone. If she had taken one second longer to climb the stairs to her apartment, the phone would have stopped ringing and the caller would have moved on to the fourth business card he had found in the phone booth. But she made it, panting into the receiver as she grabbed it to her mouth.
‘Sounds like we’re off to a good start already,’ said Donnie. Alexis laughed.
‘I’ve been a busy girl,’ she said, switching to business. ‘All by myself.’
‘Wanna tell me about it?’ he said.
‘Why don’t you come over and see for yourself?’ she said.
‘Your card here says you’re blond, 110 lbs. I’m not gonna arrive and find some big momma with a moustache now, am I?’
‘No, sir,’ said Alexis. ‘You’ll find the sweetest little pussy you’ve ever—’
‘Lunchtime OK?’ he said.
