Linwood Barclay - A Tap on the Window

I could feel the muscles in his arms, taut as steel, relax ever so slightly. “Please,” I said. “We’ll stay here on the bridge, we’ll stand guard, make sure no one else goes down and disturbs her, okay? Let’s preserve what dignity she has left.”

He turned and walked to the other side of the bridge, put his hand on the rusted railing. His body started to shake with sobs. I put a hand on his shoulder. “We’re going to find out who did this. I swear.”

Sean turned and pointed an accusing finger at my face. “This is your fault. You dropped her off. You left her here for whoever killed her.”

I was aware.

I thought about that black pickup, pulled over to the side of the road, that I’d noticed seconds after Hanna had fled my car. The one that had taken off by the time I’d turned around and gone back for another look. I struggled to remember any details about it. Ford or Dodge? Foreign or domestic? I was usually good at that sort of thing, but it had been dark, and it had been raining.

“If I hadn’t got pulled over by that damn cop...” Sean said. “I was supposed to be there. It wouldn’t have happened if I’d been there. She wouldn’t have tried to run away from me .”

The trio from the porch were cautiously approaching. The one I knew as Mildred called out, “What’s happened?”

“There’s a body under the bridge,” I said.

“Mother of God,” Mildred said.

I told her the police would be here shortly. When I’d told Augie who it was I’d found under the bridge, he didn’t know the first name, but he’d recognized the last. “Jesus. That must be Chris Rodomski’s kid. Chris and Glynis.”

I’d confirmed it for him. He’d wanted to know what I was doing there, but agreed to wait for details until we could talk face-to-face.

“Ten minutes,” he’d said. “And I’ll call it in.”

I could hear sirens in the distance as I walked back over to Sean.

“I’m gonna hafta call my parents,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said. “Look, Sean, before the cops get here, is there anything you haven’t told me? About who Hanna was helping Claire get away from?”

He shook his head. “I told you what I know. I swear.”

“After the cops let you off last night, after you ran the stop sign, go through it with me. What did you do then?”

“I drove by Patchett’s, just in case Claire was still there. Then I went to Iggy’s, in case Hanna or her were still around.”

“What time did you get to Iggy’s? Did you see Hanna get into my car?”

“No. I never saw you.”

“So you didn’t follow me, did you, Sean?”

“What?”

“In your Ranger. Did you follow me down this way?”

He blinked at me. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw a black pickup around here after Hanna got out of my car. I’m gonna have to tell the police that.”

The sirens grew louder.

Sean shook his head. “Are the cops going to think I did this?”

“They always look at the boyfriend. Luckily for you, the cops are your best alibi, since they had you pulled over around the time Hanna was killed. Plus, you may have been seen at Iggy’s, or caught on their security cam, if they have one, which again places you away from the scene.”

I hoped Iggy’s was more diligent than Patchett’s where security was concerned. If they had cameras, Claire might have been caught on them after I’d headed off with Hanna.

The first cruiser arrived at the scene, lights flashing, siren wailing. Two officers — a male and a female — got out. Kate Ramsey and her partner. The ones who’d sent the bikers on their way. Seconds later, another car rolled up. Out got Ricky Haines and Hank Brindle.

“What about you?” Sean asked.

The arrivals had distracted me. “Huh? What about me?”

“Aren’t they just as likely to think you did it?” Sean asked. “You dropped her off just before she got killed.”

It occurred to me at that moment that pissing off the chief of police at family get-togethers over the years might not have been such a good idea.

And then there he was, arriving just seconds after his uniformed officers in a white Chevy Suburban. Augustus Perry had a short huddle with them before striding over in my direction.

I stood and let him come to me.

“Cal,” he said without even a hint of a nod. He looked at the teenage boy standing next to me. “Who are you?”

“Sean Skilling.” A pause, then, “Sir.”

Augie squinted. “Ford dealership?”

“My dad’s, yes, sir.”

Augie nodded. “Adam Skilling. You folks do all the servicing on our vehicles. I’ve seen your father at our garage.”

“That’d be him.”

Augie put his eyes back on me. “Show me.”

Leaving Sean behind, I led my brother-in-law to the railing and pointed down to Hanna’s body. “Hard to see all of her from here,” I said.

He grunted. “Tell me how it came to be that you found her.”

“It’s a long story,” I said.

“All the more time I get to spend with you,” he said.

I gave it all to him as quickly as I could. Picking up Claire at Patchett’s, and everything that followed. And then, earlier this evening, two of his men coming to see me, trying to find Claire.

“This part I’m guessing you already know about,” I said.

He stared at me blankly, although I couldn’t tell whether that meant he didn’t know, or did and just wasn’t saying.

“Go on,” Augie said.

I told him I felt a responsibility where Claire was concerned, and started asking around myself. Looking for Claire led me to Hanna, Hanna led me to Sean Skilling, and his recollection of his short phone call with Hanna had led us back here, around the corner from where Hanna had jumped out of my car. “She tossed her wig when she got out. It’s in my car.”

“Mayor’s kid’s missing,” Augie said under his breath. “Girlfriend dead.”

“Yeah.”

He looked over his shoulder at Sean Skilling, who was currently being interviewed by Officer Ramsey and her partner. “What about the kid? Girl gets killed, the first, most logical suspect is the boyfriend.”

“I know. But I don’t think it’s him. And he’s got an alibi courtesy of the Griffon PD. One of your people’d pulled him over to write him up for running a stop sign about the time it all went down.”

“So there’ll be a record of the ticket.”

“No, there won’t. Sean says the cop got another call before he could finish writing it out.”

Augie scowled. “Convenient.”

“Look, maybe it’s the kid, I don’t know. But I think something different’s playing out here.”

“Who were they trying to trick? With the switch?”

“No idea.”

“The Skilling kid know?”

“He claims not to.” We were both looking at him now, being questioned by Ramsey and her partner. “Who’s with Kate?” I asked.

“Hmm? That’s Marv Quinn.” Augie took another look over the railing. Haines and Brindle were searching the hillside around the body, flashlights in hand. “That girl’s missing her drawers.”

“I noticed,” I said.

“You think the Skilling kid and the girl were having troubles? She wants to break it off, he gets mad, things get out of hand, he wants one last go at her?”

“I don’t think so,” I said.

He took one more long look at Hanna Rodomski and said, “These sorts of things aren’t supposed to happen here.” Even in the dim glow of the streetlamps, I thought I saw genuine sadness cross his weathered face.

He rubbed his mouth thoughtfully, then said, “You think it’s turned around somehow?”

“How do you mean?”

“This crazy stunt the girls pulled, fooling someone into thinking it was Claire who got into your car, which allowed her to slip away. Could it be the other way around? Maybe it wasn’t that Hanna was trying to make someone think she was Claire. Maybe Claire was trying to make someone think she was Hanna.”