Darby rubbed the ball between her fingers. It felt hard.
Kinetic weapons were non-lethal devices used by police forces in riot situations. Boston police had used them up until a few years ago when working crowd control after a Red Sox game. A beanbag weapon was discharged and hit a college student in the head. The student died, and the parents sued the city and won a large settlement.
The weapon Watts had described contained more firing power than the traditional beanbag weapon. The shotgun round was designed to hit the target with maximum force. Unlike a bullet, this round exploded upon impact.
'I couldn't stop throwing up,' Watts said. 'Fletcher hogtied me and then dragged Tim into the next room and locked me inside the bathroom. The firemen had to chop down the door.'
Why hadn't Fletcher killed Watts? Darby tucked the question away and said, 'Did he say anything to you, Cliff?'
'Not a word.'
'Did he speak to Bryson? Did you overhear anything?'
Watts shook his head as he brought the oxygen mask up to his face.
'What was the security like?' Darby asked.
'They had two guys waving one of those magic wands over you to see if you're packing a knife or gun. They said Fletcher flashed his badge and they let him through. I didn't see any security cameras, but I wasn't really paying attention.'
'Who's in charge of the scene?'
'Neil Joseph.'
Good. Darby knew the man. Neil was solid.
'Fletcher went downstairs with a woman, a redhead,' Watts said. 'We thought he was going down there to get his rocks off. It's one of those private sex clubs with a bathhouse and lots of rooms full of kinky toys that would make a good Catholic girl like you blush.'
A tired grin as he put the mask over his face again. He inhaled for several seconds. 'You can't get down there unless you have a gas mask,' he said. 'In addition to a smoke grenade, Fletcher threw another one of those aerosol containers. The place is sealed tight, so that chemical shit is still lingering in the air. It has a longer shelf life because of the steam from the bathhouse.'
Darby left to find Neil Joseph. A patrolman pointed her to a brick-faced club called Instant Karma.
All the lights inside the club were on, the dance floor crowded with witnesses being interviewed by patrolmen and detectives. Empty steel cages hung from the ceilings, the tables and counters were stacked with glasses and beer bottles, many of them still full of booze. Darby spotted Neil Joseph behind the bar, in a roped-off area with plush chairs and couches. He was talking to a group of young men built like linebackers, all of them dressed in black and wearing matching shirts with the word security silk-screened on the back.
Neil saw her, flipped his notebook shut and limped his way toward her. What was left of his black hair was damp against his scalp. With the exception of his limp from his bad knee, he still looked the same as when she had met him during her first days at the lab – an old-school cop with a no-bullshit attitude hidden behind layers of caustic sarcasm nurtured from his years on the job and growing up one of twelve boys in a strict Irish Catholic family.
'Have you found the woman who accompanied our suspect downstairs?' Darby asked.
'Not yet. When the fire alarm went off, they all went running. Do you know a woman named Tina Sanders?'
Darby nodded. 'Her daughter disappeared over two decades ago. We thought it might be connected to a current case.' She thought about the skeletal remains dressed in the Sinclair lab coat. The remains were definitely female. 'I think we might have found her.'
'When did you tell her?'
'I haven't.'
'So Tina Sanders doesn't know you found her daughter?'
'We haven't identified the remains yet. Why are you asking?'
'She's here. A taxi dropped her off near the commotion and the woman tried pushing her way through the crowd with her goddamn walker, screaming about her daughter's murder and Bryson's swan dive from the roof.'
'How does she know that? Did someone tell her?'
'I don't know anything else,' Neil said. 'The woman refuses to talk to anyone but you.'
60
Neil Joseph explained what to do as they walked.
Be patient, he said. If the woman doesn't answer a question right away, hang back for a moment. Silence can be your biggest ally. Most people want to talk, want to get things off their chest. It's important that they be heard. When she does talk, be an empathetic listener. Nod in the appropriate places. You want her to open up and share everything. Don't take any notes, just listen. You want her to trust you.
Tina Sanders sat in the back of a patrol car parked in a dark alley away from the commotion. She wore the same threadbare winter coat Darby had seen that morning at the lab.
Neil knocked on the driver's window. The patrolman left the motor running and walked with Neil into the alley to smoke.
Darby opened the back door. The interior light clicked on. Tina Sanders didn't look over, didn't look up. The woman's face was streaked with mascara, her grey hair dishevelled, as though she had rolled out of bed and into her clothes. The cigarette pack with the crucifix tucked under the cellophane was clutched in her arthritic hands, the gnarled fingers shaped like tree roots.
Darby slid into the seat and shut the door. The interior was uncomfortably warm and smelled of stale beer and cigarettes.
'I understand you wanted to speak to me.'
Tina Sanders didn't answer. In the soft blue glow from the dashboard lights, Darby could see the dark, hollowed pockets underneath the woman's eyes. Her cheeks, etched deep with grooves, were wet and shiny, but her voice was clear when she spoke.
'He said I can trust you,' Tina Sanders said.
'Who said this?'
'Malcolm Fletcher. He said his name was Malcolm Fletcher. He's one of those FBI-type cops. He called me today. Twice.' The woman paused between her words to take short, quick breaths. 'He's the same man who called and told me to go to my mailbox, to go to the crime lab to talk to you about Jenny.'
'You said he called you twice.'
Sanders licked her lips, nodded.
'When was the first time he called?'
'This afternoon,' Sanders said. 'He told me you found Jenny's body.'
Darby shifted in her chair.
'Did you find Jenny?'
'We found a set of remains, but I can't say for certain if it's your daughter,' Darby said. 'We have to do a dental comparison first.'
'How did she die?'
'I don't know.'
Jennifer's mother looked to the crucifix now wrapped around her fingers, tears streaming down her cheeks.
'He said you would tell me. He told me to come down here and find you and you would tell me what happened to my daughter.'
'I don't know anything at the moment,' Darby said. 'I haven't examined the bones.'
