Страница 4 из 42
“So what you're trying to say is . . .”
“We have one of those old-fashioned locked room mysteries.”
Hell was about to rain down on him.
Chapter 4
A Necessary Evil
A
“What the hell did you tell him all that about the old man for?”
Craig was taken aback by the outburst, uncomprehending. Instinctively, he took a step back, not wanting to be within range should she have developed the ability to spit fire. Safety, he realized, was found in distance.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
A
“You know exactly what I'm talking about. You went ahead and told that detective you were half expecting him to be murdered. Why did you get involved?”
“When something bad happens and I can help, isn't that what I'm supposed to do?”
The question was genuine, but Craig was not sure he wanted to hear the answer. A
“No, it's not what you're supposed to do,” she said, emphasizing the last syllables to wring out every ounce of disgust in her voice. “What you're supposed to do is not get involved.”
“I'm sorry you feel that way. I don't see why getting involved is a bad thing.”
“Of course you don't, because you never think ahead. Now that you've talked to them once and given them a crumb, they're going to keep coming back to us over and over again looking for more. You've gone and tethered us to this until they figure out exactly what happened.”
A
“So what if they call and ask to talk to us again? It's worth a little bit of an inconvenience if it can help them figure out who killed the old man.”
“Sure, it sounds good when you say it that way, but what happens if they can't figure it out, and every word that we say becomes the basis for their entire case. I don't know about you, but I don't want to have to live with the pressure of knowing that my words might be used to put someone in jail.”
“You're overreacting. Our words won’t be enough to solve the case. Trust me.”
A
“You don't realize how ridiculous you sound.”
“How am I ridiculous?”
“You live in this little bubble where you believe people are good, that justice always prevails, and that we don't live in a salacious hell-hole. Have you even read the news lately? There's a vigilante killer on the loose leaving bodies scattered around town like breadcrumbs. Excuse me, but I don't want to have my name attached to anything that could give someone like that a reason to know I exist.”
“Now you're being paranoid.”
A
“No, I'm not being paranoid, I'm just not wearing rose-colored glasses.”
“There's nothing to worry about. They're probably never going to call us, there is no vigilante killer coming to get you, and nothing terrible is going to happen to us. We did what little we could to help. We did our civic duty.”
“That's not going to win me over.”
“There has to be something more to this than you're letting on. Come on, just tell me.”
There were countless things she had yet to tell, i
“Fine. Did you ever stop to think about what it would mean if you were wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
“Everything you said is an assumption. We don't really know what those people are like. We hear whatever comes through the walls and the windows, but impressions can be deceptive.”
“Like how anyone listening to us now would think that you hate me.”
The look on A
“Just because we hear yelling doesn't mean they hated him, nor does it mean that any of them wanted to kill him. We assume those sorts of things because it's amusing to make up little scenarios, but this is real, it’s no longer a game. The minute you spoke, it suddenly became very real. Now, because of us, they're all going to be looked at to see if they have murder in their eyes. Because of what you said, all those people are now under suspicion.”
“I didn't think about it like that.”
“Of course you didn't.”
“But what do you think the odds are of us making any difference to the case? There has to be all sorts of evidence that will make us irrelevant.”
“I'm not a gambling woman, so I'm not betting on it.”
“I still say we'll be fine. Trust me.”
“We'll see.”
A
Chapter 5
The Myth Of Safety
Detective Knox preferred the corners of rooms, a vantage point that allowed him to survey his surroundings without being subjected to unwanted prying eyes. From a corner, he could exercise control over a situation, a futile attempt on his part to fight the forces of fate. He knew it made no difference what protestations he made, but the ashes of the dormant fire that remained inside him would not let him succumb without daring a challenge.
The words loomed in his head, an aural ghost staking its claim to his consciousness. This case would be the death of him, he thought, if he didn't think death would be a preferable alternative to living out the pressure of the chase.
“We have one of those old-fashioned locked room mysteries.”
The words loomed in his mind.