The Secret Friend

14

Darby stood inside Emma Hale's closet, holding the photograph ID had taken of the second jewellery box. An antique locket with a platinum chain lay on the red felt between the two diamond necklaces. She handed the photo to Bryson.

'I checked everything against the photographs and the inventory list. Everything's here except the antique locket. There's no question Emma's killer came back for it.'

Bryson stared at the photograph for a long moment, his expression clearly pained.

'Marsh pulled tonight's security tapes,' Darby said. 'I've already got them bagged. They only keep a month's worth of tapes here. The rest are stored in Hale's security office in Newton. Hale's supposed to be home sometime over the weekend, but I don't want to wait that long. Hale's personal assistant is a woman named Abigail. I want to talk to her and see if we can get inside the office first thing tomorrow morning.'

Bryson placed the photograph back inside the small evidence box sitting on top of a leather ottoman. 'Patrol's still sweeping the area for the intruder, but I'm sure he's long gone,' he said. 'Darby, this man you met, you said his eyes were entirely black.'

'It was like I was looking at a Halloween mask.' Thinking about it again, even in the light, made her shiver.

'The power was out,' Bryson said. 'It was dark, so maybe you saw -'

'The man's eyes were black, Tim. No colour whatsoever – no pupil, no iris, nothing, just black. Everything he wore was black – his coat and shoes, his pants, shirt and gloves. He's between six one and six three. His face was very pale and his black hair was cut short. I could pick him out of a lineup.'

'Do you know him?'

'No. Why?'

'He knew your name, he saw you at your parents' gravesite,' Bryson said. 'I got the feeling he knew you.'

'I have no idea who he is or what he was doing here.'

'Did he seem familiar in any way?'

'I definitely would have remembered meeting someone like that.'

Darby felt cold all over. Her palms were damp. She shoved them in her jean pockets.

'I talked to Marsh,' she said. 'He swears he doesn't know anyone matching that description.'

'You think he's telling the truth?'

'My gut instinct says yes. Still, it wouldn't hurt to hold his feet to the fire.'

'I agree. For the moment, let's assume Mr Marsh is telling the truth. If that's the case, then the intruder didn't walk through the front door, he found another way in. You said he left by the fire escape.'

'I already checked the window,' Darby said. 'There's no sign of forced entry. He found another way in – maybe the same way Emma's killer found. I doubt either of them walked through the front door.'

Bryson turned his attention to the electrical box. 'You must have surprised him coming up the stairs. He probably shut off the power hoping the darkness would make you leave – at the very least it would give him enough cover to slip away. Then he moved behind the door and waited in the bathroom. Problem was you had already spotted him. He heard you call the police and realized he was trapped.'

'That's the way I see it,' Darby said. 'Has Jonathan Hale hired anyone to look into his daughter's death?'

'Not to my knowledge. You don't think this man you met is working for Hale, do you?'

'I'm trying to find a reason as to what he was doing here.'

'If this man is, in fact, working for Hale, why didn't he tell you? Why go through all this drama and subterfuge?'

'That's a good question,' Darby said. 'Either he's working for Hale or he's working independently for reasons we don't understand.'

'How are you doing?'

'I'm fine.'

'You look a little shaky.'

'I'm coming off the adrenaline high. I'm going to get to work.'

'Hold on.' Bryson eased the closet door shut. 'I think we got off on the wrong foot back at the morgue.'

'Forget about it.'

'No, I want to clear the air.' Bryson scratched his chin. 'Look, I was a bit of an asshole. Am I pissed about how this whole thing went down? I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. But what you said about me wanting the credit, that's bullshit. I'm not looking for the limelight. The press is up my ass, putting my name and picture in the papers. I can't control that. If you can help me find this guy, that's all that matters.'

'Good, then we're on the same page.'

'You said Hale has a personal assistant.'

'Marsh did. He said the woman's name is Abigail. I'll get the number.'

'I can do it.'

'Actually, I want to go and take a look at the security system.'

Bryson opened the door. 'Nice work on the necklace,' he said.

The master bedroom held modern-type bureaus and a beautiful canape bed. Like the spare bedroom, the floor-to-ceiling window overlooked Arlington Street and part of the Public Garden. Darby imagined what it might have felt like to go to bed every night with this stunning view of the city. She wondered if Emma Hale took the time to appreciate the view and her good fortune. Like many rich kids, the young woman probably took it for granted.

Darby knew she harboured a grudge against the rich. The truth was she didn't know Emma Hale. Maybe the young woman did appreciate her good fortune. Darby suspected her anger had something to do with a comment the intruder made about her mother being a coupon-clipping housewife. After Big Red died, Sheila McCormick worked double shifts at her nursing job and managed not only to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table, but had saved every extra penny to help Darby pay her way through college.

Coop stood in the hallway, working a wad of chewing gum between his front teeth while someone from ID photographed the handgun, a Beretta.

'The serial number is still on it,' Coop said to her. 'Hopefully the trace will lead somewhere good. You happen to check out the ammo?'

'No.'

'Armour piercing,' Coop said. 'You're lucky the son of a bitch didn't try and shoot.'

'I need to go downstairs. When I come back, I want to process the closet first. Then I want to check the CSU inventory list to see if our boy took anything else besides the necklace.'

'I'll come with you.'

Darby saw the look of concern in Coop's eyes. She had an idea what was coming.

Coop waited until they were alone in the hallway.

'I'm staying with you tonight,' he said. 'Please, no arguments.'

'I'll be fine.' Darby pressed the elevator button. 'There's no reason for you to -'

'Look, Wonder Woman, why don't you hang up the cape and give it a rest, okay?'

'Wonder Woman doesn't wear a cape. Besides, I'm sure you'd like to get back to Row-day-oh. Maybe you can sleep in and then watch another one of those uplifting cowboy-in-love movies.'

Coop blew a bubble, popped it.

'I know men look at you as some, I don't know, some wonderfully delicate, fragile bird that needs protection,' he said. 'I don't look at you that way. I've worked out with you. I've seen you spar in the boxing ring and work the speed bag. Half of them don't know you could kick their ass sideways over the course of a weekend and not break a sweat. I'm not debating your superhero status. I want to stay over because I'll sleep better knowing you're safe.'

Once again, Coop had managed to scale her protective walls and see into her true feelings. She was glad he made the offer. She didn't want to be alone.

'This is the part where you graciously thank me,' Coop said.

'I don't have an extra bed.'

'But you do have a queen-size bed.'

'Forget it.'

'I was going to suggest you take the couch. Why are you always thinking about sex? It's very disturbing.'