Page 58 of 56 Days
A beat passes before he says, “Concerned that this isn’t a social call.”
Straight to business—just how he was back when they worked together, fifteen years ago. She was still in uniform then, fresh out of Templemore, and Bill was already the wizened elder statesman, famous even outside the force for his involvement in severalhigh-profilecases.
“It’s not,” Lee says. “Unfortunately.” She takes another step away from the car, the cordon, everyone else, and lowers her voice. “Bill, I’m at a scene in Harold’s Cross and I’ve got something sensitive to ask you. I have a name. I just want to know if it means anything to you. That’sallI’m asking, at this point, for both our sakes. A yes or no is all I’m looking for. Okay?”
“Okay...”
Lee takes a deep breath. “Ollie St Ledger.”
The pause that follows is so long, she pulls the phone from her ear to check the call is still connected.
Bill says, “It means something to me, yes.”
“Thank you. I thought it would, but I wanted to make sure.”
“If you need me—”
“I might. Is this the best number for you?”
“So long as I hear the phone ringing. Hearing isn’t what it used to be. But the wife will if I don’t.”
Lee hesitates. She should leave it there, but...
She feels obligated to give him something in exchange for this.
She says, “I think maybe he’s dead.”
Another long pause. Then:
“Good.”
Click.
Lee goes back to the car, sits down inside.
“KB Studios do have an Oliver,” Karl says, “but his last name is Kennedy. Guy I spoke to says the firm has an apartment here, yeah, and he thinks Kennedy could’ve been staying in it, but he’s not sure. Seems to be the company motto.” He mimics atelevision-commercialvoice-over. “KB Studios: Where We’re Never Sure. Remind me never to hire them to, you know, design a building, would you? And no pictures on the website or any social that I can find, but the guy described Kennedy as late twenties, six foot,light-brownhair,good-looking. But also said he had big ears and an angular jaw so... I know he was pretty ripeandfacedown, but could that be what’s in there?”
“What’s in there,” Lee says, “is a complete and utter shit storm. Potentially.”
“Oh?” Karl frowns. “Who were you talking to?”
“We’ll need to keep this very close to our chests, for now.”
“Loving the suspense, Lee, but—”
“At least until we’re sure.” She sighs. “I reallywaslooking forward to that curry, you know.”
“For fuck’s sake, what’s—”
She turns to look at him. “Do you remember the Mill River case?”
32 Days Ago
After the warm glow of Sunday night, Monday feels like the cold, sharp shock of the real start.
Ciara opens her eyes to darkness but, after a few seconds, finds the weak gray light forcing its way around the edges of the window blind. Oliver is, as ever, turned away from her on the other side of the bed. He’s still deeply asleep, snoring lightly. Last night, she made sure to leave clothes folded on the floor right by what is apparently her side of the bed now: a pair ofpolka-dotpajama bottoms and an old,bleach-splatteredT-shirtthat has been relegated to sleepwear. She picks them up and tiptoes out of the room, closing the door softly behind her, and pulls them on in the gloom of the living room.
The snazzy coffee machine is about as quiet as a tractor engine, so Ciara boils the kettle instead, flipping the switch to OFF before the bubbling and hissing really gets going, and stirs in a spoon of instant coffee granules swiped from their Doomsday Prepper stock.
