The Dead Room

63

Darby got down on her knees, warm blooding spilling out across the floor and touching her skin. She searched Chadzynski’s pockets. No flash drive but she found car keys.

She switched to the shotgun she was carrying and opened the door. The police commissioner’s sleek black Mercedes sat a few feet away.

There were no other vehicles in the car park.

She turned on the gun’s tactical light and ran through the rain to the front of the building. The door and windows were boarded. She looked for a number – there, a sign above the door. She shielded her eyes from the rain and read the faded letters: DELANEY’S AUTOMOTIVE GARAGE.

Sitting behind the wheel, the shotgun resting on the floor of the passenger seat, she started the car. The Mercedes had a GPS navigation system built into the console. Her location was displayed on the screen. Perfect.

She drove away from the building, then turned around so she could watch it.

The wipers thumping back and forth, she dialled Randy Scott’s mobile number.

‘Randy Scott.’

‘Please tell me you’re still at the lab.’

‘I am.’

Sweet relief flooded her.

‘Darby.’ His voice was hesitant, nervous. ‘I don’t know if –’

‘Don’t talk, just listen. I need Dan Russo’s address.’

‘I don’t have access to the homicide database.’

‘I know, I’ll give you my password. Go in my office –’

‘I can’t. They’ve sealed it off.’

‘Who sealed it off?’

‘The commissioner was here earlier and she… she told us that you tampered with evidence. She has half the Boston police department looking for you and Coop.’

‘It’s bullshit. I’ll prove it to you. I have Chadzynski’s confession recorded on my phone. I’ll send it to you, then I’m going to lead you to her body. You and Mark. I want –’

‘She’s dead.’

‘Listen to me. I need you two here to secure the scene. First, I want you to go to the fingerprint database and give me the address that’s listed with Dan Russo’s name. Will you do that?’

‘Hold on.’

Darby pulled out of the gate. The garage sat at the far end of a dead-end road. She looked at the tenement-type buildings and thought she was in East Boston or Chelsea. She suspected this was a neighbourhood used to gunshots. There was a good amount of distance between the garage and the buildings. With the rain, she doubted anyone had heard anything.

Randy finally came back on the line and gave her a Wellesley address. She plugged it into the GPS.

‘I need you to write down an address,’ she said.

‘Go ahead.’

Darby gave it to him. ‘I want you to come here with Mark and photograph and document every piece of evidence. Go in through the side door and you’ll find a laptop computer on a desk; there are audio files on it. You’re to confiscate that immediately. Under no circumstances are you to let anyone touch it. Put it into evidence and don’t let it out of your sight. After you’re done, call the police. Tell them everything I told you.’

‘Got it.’

‘Can your phone accept audio files?’

‘As far as I know it can.’

‘I’ll send you the audio file of my conversation with the commissioner.’

She hung up and called directory inquiries. There was only one listing for Russo. It matched the address Randy had given her.

Darby drove, dividing her attention between the road and the phone. She sent a copy of her recorded conversation to Randy and Mark. She also sent a copy to Coop.