“Tell me more about it,” she said as a drop of sweat threaded its way down from her temple. Miriam wiped it away with one hand and turned up the air-conditioning. The sun was right in her face, bothering her.
“A schoolmate he’d gone on a date with during his last year of high school came back home in tears and confessed to her parents that Thompson had forced her to have sex with him.”
Miriam patted her pockets, searching for a pair of sunglasses, before realizing that they were perched on her head. She put them on. Much better.
“But it was his word against the girl’s, and she didn’t exactly have the reputation of a saint, if you catch my meaning.” There was a deep breath on the other end of the phone. “Besides, we’re talking about more than forty years ago . . .”
“So the girl decided to drop it,” murmured Detective Leroux. Her head twitched a little with her tic.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t true.”
Nauseated, Miriam closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again she was facing the red brake lights of the car in front of her. She slammed on her brakes, barely stopping in time.
The voice on the other end of the phone continued. “And if he was raping women back then, maybe he’s done it other times. It’s hard to know exactly what he’s done. All we know is that he’s never been identified and caught before.”
“That’s possible. What about the girl? Can you track her down?” Miriam’s stomach churned. She opened the glove compartment and took out a little foil-wrapped package of pills and stuck one in her mouth, dropping the packet in her lap.
“I did,” said Mills in a discouraged tone. “She died six months ago. Cancer.”
“Fuck . . .” Miriam shifted into first and took off again.
“Yeah.”
“Did she have a daughter, by any chance?”
“Hmm . . . I don’t have anything on that, but if you want I’ll double-check.”
“Good. Do that. We’ll catch up later.” Miriam ended the conversation and turned onto a side street.
CHAPTER 6
The video ran quickly across the screen, colors from the images brightening the room. The sun had already gone down, and the last faint rays of daylight barely illuminated the window frame.
Eric flipped the light switch. When the fluorescent overheads flickered on, Stern jumped in his seat.
“Jesus, boss! You scared the shit out of me!”
“Sleep much, Martin?” asked Shaw, a hint of disapproval in his voice.
“No, no. Of course not!” Stern leapt to his feet, practically standing to salute. “I was watching some surveillance video we picked up from a camera near the building where Thompson’s apartment is. There’s footage from a jewelry store right next to the building’s entrance.” He pointed to a screen in front of him.
“The other stuff is from an ATM machine across the street.” He adjusted his shriveled T-shirt. It was as if he’d thrown it on as soon as it came out of the dryer. There was an enormous silhouette of Darth Vader on the chest. He nodded at the other screen, which was darker and displayed close-ups of a man withdrawing cash. “The building door is right in line with the video camera, but it’s always out of focus. Unfortunately, that’s all we’ve got.”
“Have you found anything?” Eric put one hand on Stern’s shoulder and squeezed, pushing him gently into his chair and back to work. He enjoyed putting the screws on Stern. Even though he had been with the department for four years, he continued to kowtow to Eric, which only brought more ribbing from Detective Shaw. Shaw hoped that, with enough prodding, eventually the man would start standing up for himself. Stern was good at what he did, but he lacked courage and character.
Martin’s face contracted, then he whistled softly. “Well . . . I’ve been watching this footage of the days when we think the crime may have been committed. I’m into the third day now, and so far no woman dressed in black has come out of or gone into the building. At least not during the daytime.”
“The witness says he saw her while he was playing in the hallway. The sun sets late these days. I doubt he was playing at night.”
“Oh. Yeah. I’ll keep looking. If this woman really exists, she had to have passed through that doorway.” His mouth sprung open in a wide yawn.
“You’re never going to find her with your eyes closed!” said Eric sarcastically. “That’s enough for today. It’s late. You can start back up again tomorrow.” Then he left the room.
“Your wish is my command, boss,” said Stern, but his voice was already fading as Eric moved into the main laboratory.
The room was empty. As usual, he’d stayed in the office longer than he should have. Everyone else had already gone home, except for Martin.
“Good night!” Martin called out.
Stern’s outline went racing down the corridor. He’d undoubtedly stayed late to show that he was taking the job seriously, and now that he’d gotten the green light to head home, he wasn’t going to waste a minute.
The sound of something rolling turned Eric around, just in time to see a pen fall off the edge of a desk.
He sighed. He was truly the only one left. A little earlier he’d caught a glimpse of Adele walking past his door, and he’d struggled to resist the desire to follow her and talk to her. What would he have said to her anyway?
He’d thought about that for a good hour; then he simply stood up from his desk and left his office, but there was no sign of her anywhere.
Ultimately that was for the best. If he tried to approach her, even simply as a friend, he risked making himself look even more ridiculous than he already had.
He walked across the laboratory to the little staff room where people had coffees and snacks on their breaks. The light was on, but the room was empty. Then he headed for the ballistics lab, but well before he got there he could see it was closed with no signs of life.
Eric looked at his watch. It was almost ten thirty. He’d eaten a sandwich a couple of hours earlier, thinking he’d stay in the office awhile and take care of a few things. Now it was probably time to head home.
He walked back to his office to grab his jacket. Just as he passed a door to the locker room, he heard another noise.
Eric stopped and listened carefully. It was something metallic, maybe the handle of a locker, but the light inside the room was turned off. He stuck his head in. Light from the corridor slipped in, making the room almost entirely visible save a few shadowy corners.
He walked in, making his way past the benches. Everything seemed okay.
He reached the end of a row of lockers and was about to turn around when he noticed a dark outline out of the corner of his eye—Eric caught just a glimpse of the shadow before it crashed into him.
He found himself holding Adele in his arms.
“Gee whiz, boss!” He could feel her grow tense, her body stiffening. “What the hell are you doing in here?”
He had his hands on her arms, unsure what to say next. “I . . . I heard a noise. I didn’t think anyone was still here. The light’s turned off.”
Exactly, goddamn it. What on earth was she doing in the locker room in the dark?
“I forgot my tablet,” said Adele. She pulled away from him and took a step back. “I came back to pick it up. I’m used to moving around in the dark.”
“Sorry if I scared you,” Eric said, getting a grip on himself. “I thought I was the only one still here.”
Adele’s alarmed expression melted away, leaving a half-smile in its wake. Or at least that’s how it seemed to him from what little he could see in the dim light. “No big deal,” she said.
Eric moved to let her pass, and Adele headed to the door.
“You should go home, boss.” She waved to him as she walked out.
He nibbled on his upper lip. What had she been doing in here? He summoned
his courage and jogged after her. “I wanted to apologize for the other night,” he said when he caught up with her.
Adele looked perplexed. “For what?” She didn’t seem to know what he was talking about.
“You know what I mean,” he said, challenging her with his eyes.
She sighed. A light of understanding flickered in her eyes. “If you’re afraid I might tell somebody about your misadventure . . .” She smiled. “Don’t worry.” Then she made as if to turn around again.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, stepping to block her path.
That seemed to try her patience. “Listen, boss. You don’t have anything to apologize for, really. Everything’s fine.” Adele said it as if she gathered up people so drunk they passed out cold in taxicabs and brought them home with her every night—as if it was nothing at all to her. But that approach only increased Eric’s discomfort. He felt a growing sense of anger every time she told him how little it mattered.
“Okay,” he said at length. “If you say so.”
She slapped her boss on the shoulder. “Good night, boss,” she said, then turned to go.
“I guess you must have paid the tab then. Or am I remembering that wrong? I certainly don’t remember paying.” He couldn’t recall much from that evening, to tell the truth.
“Oh, don’t worry about it.” She kept walking. “You didn’t have to. It’s my pub,” she added, raising her voice as she stepped into the elevator.
Her pub? Oh, of course. Her ex worked there. Maybe they owned the place. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed. It would have been better if he had never talked to her in the first place. Adele Pennington had a gift for making others feel diminished somehow. He’d watched her exert this effect over his colleagues, and now he felt it himself. All this should have annoyed him, but deep inside he knew it only made her more interesting to him, precisely because she was so hard to get a handle on.
Of course she was much younger than he was, but she was hardly a little girl.
After finally slipping out of the station, Eric made his way toward the St. James’s Park station. Just as he was stepping into the tube station entrance, he noticed a red car pull up along the side of the road. The window rolled down. Before he could see who was driving, he heard a voice he recognized.
“Do you want a lift, boss?”
“I imagine you’re enjoying yourself.” Eric squinted at her as the car came to a stop.
“Where can I take you?” asked Adele, ignoring his comment.
“Marylebone, York Street,” he said as he climbed into the car. “I’ll tell you where to stop.”
She turned left onto Victoria Street. “You’re in my neighborhood.”
“I know.”
Adele displayed an ambiguous smile but didn’t say anything.
“Oh yes, you’re clearly enjoying this,” said Eric.
“I’m sorry?”
“You know what I’m talking about.” He adjusted his seat belt so that he could turn and look straight at her. “I’ve been watching you during the past few months in the office.”
“Oh yeah?” There was a shade of impertinence in Adele’s voice, and that only irritated him further.
“You do everything you can to make your colleagues’ lives difficult. You draw attention to their faults, cut them down in public. You’re so good at it that the more insecure ones start to believe it’s their fault.” While he talked, he studied her face for any reaction, but Adele was impassive, almost disinterested—except for her eyelids, which twitched nervously. She was listening to him, he was certain of this. “And now you’re trying to do the same with me.”
Adele said nothing, but she accelerated suddenly in order to overtake a bus that had pulled over to off-load passengers. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Eric snorted sarcastically. “I don’t know why you do it. You’re good at what you do. You don’t have to prove anything. Yet you keep putting up walls between yourself and your colleagues. The more time passes, the higher those barriers become, and I’m trying to understand why.”
“Listen!” she exclaimed, finally displaying some annoyance. “I don’t have to be friends with everyone, and regardless, the way I interact with the people around me is none of your business. You’re not my father, and I’m not a suspect in some case you’re investigating. You have no right to give me the third degree.”
“But I am your boss, and the way you behave on the job is my business.”
“Right now we’re in my car, not in your department.”
“So you’d rather we had this conversation back at the Yard, in front of the entire team?”
She bit back a response and took a long, deep breath.
Eric smiled to himself. He didn’t exactly enjoy using his position to lord over his colleagues, but this time he was glad it was an option.
“Who knows what the others would think if they knew how hard it is for you to handle a few beers,” she responded with a biting tone.
“Ha!” said Eric, who was expecting exactly this sort of attack. “After your little joke this week, I think that most people are convinced we’re sleeping together, so I doubt that little tidbit would shock them all that much.”
Adele laughed.
Oh yes, she was clearly enjoying this. “To tell you the truth,” he continued, “I should thank you. It seems to have earned me nothing but admiration.”
“You wish,” murmured Adele.
Eric shook his head. He’d opened a door between them, but now the conversation had taken a turn he didn’t like at all. The problem was that Adele was right. She’d understood quite clearly what he was thinking about, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Right now he was so angry that he’d lost all interest in her as a woman. She was one heck of a bitch all right. In his own mind he’d unconsciously defended her when he’d heard the things other people were saying about her, but now he was facing his own arrogance.
The worst thing was that, despite this, he still felt attracted to her, even now. His anger only heightened his desire.
The car turned onto York Street, and Adele turned one eloquent, arched eyebrow his way.
“Pull over at the second intersection,” said Eric. His time was almost up, and he wanted to end the conversation in a civil manner. “You’re an excellent criminologist, I have to admit that, but our job doesn’t end in the laboratory. Your relationship with your colleagues is important too, especially if you want to further your career.”
“I’d rather concentrate on the science in order to further my career, instead of grasping for help somewhere else.”
Eric felt that was a low blow. His relatively unorthodox methods weren’t exactly a secret, but they were tolerated, sometimes even encouraged, as long as no one else was involved. Everybody knew full well that his aim wasn’t to advance his career or burnish his reputation with the higher-ups in the Metropolitan Police Service for favors down the road. His only mission was to guarantee that guilty parties were brought to justice, no matter the cost. It had become his life mission, and to have her throw it back at him was irksome and cheap.
The car stopped. “Good night, boss,” said Adele, her voice dry and matter of fact.
Detective Shaw looked at her, uncertain. Did she really want to end the conversation here? She looked straight ahead. Finally Eric unlatched his seat belt and opened the door.
“You’re right,” she said, her voice so soft that he could barely hear it as he rose out of the car. He turned to meet her stare.
“You don’t know anything about my life,” she continued. “This is a really stressful time for me, and maybe I’ve been taking my problems out on the wrong people.”
He had nothing to say in return. It was true: when all was said and done, he really didn’t know a thing about her. Every opinion he had, whether good or ba
d, was influenced by feelings he wasn’t supposed to be entertaining. For the first time ever, it occurred to him that things would be better if they didn’t work together at all.
“But you’re wrong about one thing.” The dome light glowed a dim yellow on Adele’s face. It almost looked like there were tears in her eyes. “I don’t enjoy it at all.” But the half-smile that accompanied the statement seemed to say just the opposite.
Adele leaned over the passenger seat and closed the door, practically jerking it out of his hands. Then she left.
Eric stood there for a moment on the sidewalk, watching Adele drive away. His jaw was clenched, and his hands curled into fists. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he could feel Adele’s eyes on him in the rearview mirror. He could certainly imagine them.
It was quicker than he was. He tried to run even faster, but his legs were barely responding anymore. He gasped for breath, hardly getting air into his lungs. He hadn’t been much of a runner even when he was younger, and what little ability he had had only diminished with age. Every once in a while he looked over his shoulder. The shadow was still following him; it wasn’t all in his head. It didn’t even need to run. It was faster than he was.
He turned into an alley. He didn’t know this part of the city that well, but maybe he could find a place to hide.
There was a soft, muted sound behind him. Tiny shards of cement flew off the wall beside him. A gunshot without a bang. He put a foot in a pothole and found himself sprawled out on the pavement. He could feel his heart racing in his chest. He couldn’t get back up again. He didn’t have the strength to run anymore.
Footsteps behind him. Then his pursuer stopped.
He put his hands on his head, as if that might save him, but he couldn’t resist the temptation to look. His pursuer was still partly concealed in shadow. He couldn’t see the face, but now he understood why he hadn’t heard the shot: a long silencer was fastened onto the barrel of the pistol.
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