sudden urgency to gain access to your daughter's home.'
Fletcher turned his attention away from the fire. Hale could not look away from the man's strange eyes. For some reason they made him think of the mystery stories he read when he was a boy – Hardy Boys stuff where they hunted for buried treasure hidden in dank old castles full of cobwebs and skeletons, rooms full of terrible secrets.
But there was something calming behind the man's eyes. Hale felt his heartbeat slow.
'When Emma disappeared,' Fletcher said, 'the operating theory shared by both the Boston police and the FBI was that she had been kidnapped.'
'That's right.'
'The photograph Detective Bryson showed you to identify your daughter, do you remember it?'
'Yes.' Hale could see the photograph clearly in his mind's eye. He remembered wanting to reach through it and brush away the soot and sand from her face, pick out the twigs tangled in her wet hair.
'In the picture, Emma is wearing a platinum chain with a locket,' Fletcher said.
'I gave it to her for Christmas.' Hale reached inside his pocket and squeezed the locket between his fingers.
'The locket and chain were inside your daughter's home after she was abducted,' Fletcher said.
'I don't understand.'
'The man who killed your daughter came back for the necklace. The police believe he's on one of the security tapes – that's why they asked for access to your Newton office building. They want to review the backlog of tapes. They're now in my possession.'
'You're the one who broke into the office?'
'Yes. I want the police to believe I'm acting independently.'
Malcolm Fletcher handed him a cell phone. 'Keep this with you at all times. The phone is disposable, so there's no way the police can trace the call. If you have any questions, dial the number programmed into the phone's memory. There's only one. Do you know Judith Chen?'
'The missing college student from Suffolk,' Hale said.
'Her body was found yesterday. The police discovered a religious statue sewn in her pocket – a statue of the Virgin Mary. The same statue was found with Emma. I heard Miss McCormick talk about it last night. It reminded me of something, so I decided to investigate. I've come across some information that could be problematic for the Boston police.'
'What kind of information?'
'I'd rather discuss it with you later, after I've had a chance to review the security tapes. I want to see if my theory is, in fact, correct.'
'Marsh told me the police took last night's tapes. I'm sure you're on them.'
'I have no doubt.'
'Then it's only a matter of time before they find out who you are.'
'Yes, I realize that,' Fletcher said, standing. 'I'm going to create a diversion.'
'With what?'
'The truth,' Fletcher said.
Hale's Newton office building was conveniently located off the Mass Pike. The parking lot, cleared of snow, contained a single patrol car. The front door, made of glass, was shattered. Darby saw a brick lying on the lobby floor.
The place was trashed. Computer monitors were smashed against the floor, desk drawers overturned, contents spilled everywhere. Plants had been thrown against the white walls, some of which were spray-painted with bright neon swastikas and the phrases 'Jews Go Home' and 'White Power'.
The patrolman, short with thick shoulders and a doughy face, stifled a yawn. 'Assholes came in here and, as you can see, tossed the place to shit,' he told Bryson. 'The little bastards were pretty smart. They cut the wires for the alarm.'
'Why do you think kids did this?'
'Every time we get one of these hate-crime things, teenagers are always behind it. Probably one of those Aryan Brotherhood groups from Southie. They came here last year, broke into a synagogue and spray-painted the same lovely phrases all over the walls. It's an initiation thing.'
'And now they're ransacking office buildings?'
'Hey, I'm just throwing out ideas. You're the detective, so why I don't let you go and detect?'
'Who called it in?'
'One of the plough guys,' the patrolman said. 'The two of 'em got here this morning at around nine. When they made their way around to the front, they saw the door, took a quick peek inside, called it in and here we are.'
Bryson nodded, looking at a security camera mounted against the ceiling.
'You can forget that,' the patrolman said. 'The tapes were removed from the recorders.'
'Show me.'
The door to the security room had been pried open. Given the marks, Darby suspected something like a crowbar was used.
Like the lobby, the small room had been ransacked – recorders, computer monitors and cheaply made pressboard bookcases were smashed against the floor covered in hundreds of DVDs stored inside clear jewel cases. Some of the DVDs were smashed into pieces. Darby noticed pieces of equipment that transferred VHS tape to DVD.
Bryson picked up one of the cases. It was neatly labelled with the building's name, month and year of the recording.
'How much you want to bet the recording we need is missing?' Bryson asked.
'That's a sucker's bet,' Darby said. 'Still, we should get people here to catalogue the DVDs and see what's missing.'
'I'll make the call. We're going to have to process this. I'll call Ops, get some people here.'
'I'm going to get back to the lab. I'd also like to look at Chen's place.'
'She's renting in Natick. They have a key. I'll let them know you'll be calling.'
'I'd like to view last night's security tape.'
'I already made you a copy. I put it in the overnight drop-off.' Bryson sighed as he tossed the DVD case onto the floor. 'I'll have patrol drive you into town.'
25
The lab's overnight drop-off box contained only one item: a sealed padded mailer. Darby saw her name written across the front. She opened the mailer on her way to the conference room.
The VHS security tape showed, in grainy colour, Emma Hale's parking garage. Sitting on the edge of the table, Darby watched a man with short black hair, pale skin and a black wool coat walk quickly across the garage to the delivery elevator. He pressed the button and waited, his back facing the camera. The man's hair colour and clothing matched the intruder she had met last night – Malcolm Fletcher.
When the elevator doors opened, Fletcher stepped inside and moved to the right, out of the camera's view. The doors shut.
If Fletcher was working for Hale, he wouldn't have to sneak inside the building.
Darby rewound the tape and watched it again.
What were you doing inside the penthouse? What were you looking for?
She watched the tape three more times and, failing to find anything useful, left the conference room.
Coop and Keith Woodbury were working inside a small evidence room. Pieces of Emma Hale's jewellery sat inside a clear fuming cabinet slowly filling with a cyanoacrylate vapour. Off-white latent fingerprints appeared on the jewellery.
'How's the humidity level?' Coop asked.
