The Key

49

Liv slid into the cruiser and slammed the door on the cold night.

‘Jesus, Liv, you look like shit!’

She looked up into the doughy, moon-like face of Sergeant Ski Williams and smiled. It was the only thing she’d heard in days that she could truly believe.

‘Sorry about the unholy hour,’ she said, buckling herself in as he eased the cruiser away from the kerb. ‘I didn’t think about the time difference when I called.’

He waved away her apology and kept his eyes fixed on the road.

She’d known Ski Williams for close to ten years now. His real name was William Godlewski, but like many Polish cops he’d shortened and switched it around to avoid having to deal with his unpronounceable surname. He was one of the first cops she’d ever met on a proper assignment. He’d been a rookie too; maybe that’s why they’d hit it off — two newbies trying to find their feet in a grown-up world. It amazed her that after all this time he still hadn’t made it past sergeant. He was far and away one of the best cops she knew, but he was lousy when it came to the books. He had failed the detective’s exam three times in a row. He was also terrible at kissing ass. Just couldn’t do it. He was smart enough to know that it helped you get on, but if he thought a captain was an asshole he’d say so. There was something utterly uncompromising about him that was both infuriating and noble. It was why she’d called him from Turkey over anyone else to ask if he wouldn’t mind picking her up. He was old school, like the Untouchables, and there was no one she trusted more.

‘So, you going to talk to me or what? You’ve been all over the news for days now. When I saw you standing on the sidewalk there I didn’t know whether to offer you a ride or ask for an autograph.’

Liv pulled her baseball cap lower to shield her face and hunkered down in her seat. It hadn’t occurred to her that everything in Ruin would be news here. Foreign stories rarely got any airtime unless they were about a war where Americans were dying.

‘What you heard?’

‘Sounds like you got some kind of mediaeval curse hanging over you or something. Anyone you speak to gets offed. We’ve got two homicides that may or may not be linked to you and your little adventures overseas. I should get my head examined, letting you in the car. So what happened? Did you find out what they got in that mountain?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Oh, come on.’

‘Honestly, I can’t remember.’

She thought of the dream that frightened her so much she had chosen to stay awake for the twelve-hour flight rather than risk facing it. Her boss had been one of the two homicides Ski had referred to: killed merely because he had spoken to her. Maybe she was cursed.

‘Listen, Ski. Just take me home and I’ll tell you everything. Perhaps talking it through might jog something loose. Besides, I could use a shower and a change of clothes.’

‘Take you home…’ Ski said it flat and left it hanging.

Liv saw the troubled expression on his face. She’d seen that look before. His unbending streak of honesty meant he had the worst poker face of anyone she had ever met. It was the look he got when he had to tell someone some really bad news.

‘Tell me,’ she said.

Ski shook his head. ‘Probably easier if I show you.’