The Secret Friend

9

Darby flipped through the pages, stopping when she reached the one containing the list of items found in the jewellery boxes located in Emma Hale's walk-in closet. Here it was: 'Oval antique locket with platinum chain, middle drawer, jewellery box #2.'

She grabbed the phone and called Tim Bryson. The phone seemed to ring forever. She felt a surge of relief when he picked up.

'A week after Emma Hale's abduction, you and your team went through her house and catalogued her jewellery.'

'That's right,' Bryson said.

'I'm looking at the list of Emma's jewellery. It says an oval antique locket with platinum chain was found in the middle drawer of the second jewellery box.'

'Where are you going with this?' Bryson sounded put out. Was he still sore from their talk at the morgue?

'When Emma Hale's body was found, she was wearing a platinum chain and locket,' Darby said. 'It's listed on the inventory page.'

'The woman owned a lot of jewellery. It's possible she owned a similar locket. I remember seeing a lot of necklaces that looked the same.'

'This necklace is unique. Hale gave it to his daughter for Christmas a few years ago, when she was sixteen.'

'Why would her killer go back to her penthouse for a necklace after she had been abducted? It doesn't make any sense.'

'Did your team take pictures?'

'Tons of them,' Bryson said.

'They're not included in the file you gave me.'

'They're back at the station.'

'Where?'

'ID has them. I never asked for copies since the whole thing was a monumental waste of time.'

Darby checked her watch. It was after seven. ID was closed. Coop was at the lab but he couldn't access the ID office. It was a separate department.

'I'll call Hale and see where he stored Emma's things,' she said.

'She's been in the ground for, what, five months? You think he's held on to her jewellery?'

'There's one way to find out.' Darby found Hale's numbers listed in the file. 'I'll call you if I find out anything. Thanks for your help, Tim.'

Darby hung up and dialled Jonathan Hale's home number. Hopefully the man would allow her to view his daughter's belongings, all of which had been released back into his possession. Hale didn't have a high opinion of BPD. The man had openly criticized the department in the press.

A woman with broken English answered the phone. Mr Hale wasn't home, she said. She wouldn't elaborate.

Darby explained who she was and why she was calling, and then asked for a number where he could be reached. The woman didn't have a number – she was just the housekeeper, she said – but offered to take a message. Darby left her numbers.

Darby tapped the phone against her leg, wanting to do something. The matter, she knew, could wait. There was no urgency.

Emma Hale had lived in the Back Bay – a quick ride on the T, which was still running. Darby wondered if the young woman's belongings were stored inside the building, maybe even in her home. A building like that probably had someone who worked the front desk.

Darby didn't want to wait, wasn't good at waiting. She needed to know. She stuffed Emma Hale's murder book into her backpack and grabbed her coat.