Chris Mooney - The Dead Room

'They're running them through the database as we speak. As for evidence, we've just started processing it. What else did Sean tell you?'

'He said the people who killed his grandparents were never caught.'

'He's right.'

'Were there ever any suspects? Do you remember hearing anything?'

'Nothing jumps to mind.'

Darby grabbed the clipboard and pen lying on the bench, turned to a fresh sheet of paper and wrote down the names for the aunt and uncle. 'What were the names of Kendra's parents?'

'Sue and Donnie.'

'Does Kendra have any friends living in the area?'

'I wouldn't know.'

'Did she tell you why she was hooking?'

'No.'

'She never tried?'

'Sure she did. She tried a lot, as a matter of fact. She kept calling the house, came around a few times and tried cornering me at school. And I ignored her. I wasn't interested in hearing why.'

'I'm sure you heard some stories. Charlestown is small -'

'I didn't want to know why she did it. If someone started talking about it, I left the room. In fact, I made it a point of burying my head in the sand. I was seventeen when I found out my nineteen-year-old girlfriend was blowing guys around town in hotel rooms and cars.' He glared at her, eyes bright with anger. 'I didn't want to know specifics. I was embarrassed, okay?'

Why is he acting so defensive?

'Coop, I've just found out Amy Hallcox's real name is Kendra Sheppard.' She spoke the words calmly. 'And you're the person who told me. You told me her parents were murdered and that she disappeared. You told me you two dated, so I'm asking you questions, trying to get some background information on her.'

He was no longer looking at her. He was staring out of the window. The rain running down the glass cast shadows across the benches and walls.

A moment later he sighed and threw up his hands. 'What else did Sean tell you?'

'He said his mother was always afraid these people would find her. She seemed paranoid about it – she didn't have a computer and wouldn't hook up to the internet because she was afraid these people might track her down. I got the sense he believed the people who killed his grandparents are the same ones who killed his mother.'

'But they didn't kill him.'

'I think they were interrupted.' She explained her theory of a possible third party – the shooter who had entered through the sliding glass door and taken down the man in the suit.

'Sean told me the guy wearing the Celtics gear was an older white male who may or may not have had a facelift,' Darby said. 'At the moment that's all we know about the Celtics guy. We have no idea where he is or what might have happened to him. Do you have any ideas or theories?'

'About the Celtics guy? Based on that description, he could be any Boston yahoo.'

'I meant why these people were so interested in finding her.'

'Haven't the foggiest.' Coop stood up. 'Why did Sean Sheppard ask to speak to your father?'

'His mother said if he was ever in trouble to talk to him. She told him to speak only to him.'

'So you don't know the connection to your old man?'

'Not yet. Was Kendra arrested for prostitution in Charlestown?'

'As far as I know.'

'I'll go pull her record.'

'I'm going to get to work on that Nicorette wrapper you found and the shells the Wonder Twins recovered from the woods.'

'Okay. If you remember anything else, let me know.'

'Will do.'

'Thanks.'

Coop moved past her. She looked down at Kendra Sheppard's fingerprint card.

Darby had known him for so long, had spent so much time with him both on and off the job, that they had become in many ways like an old married couple, in tune with each other's moods and idiosyncrasies. She knew what was lurking behind Coop's anger.

He's afraid.

Darby opened the door to Exam Room 2. The Wonder Twins had placed a small pair of binoculars inside a fuming chamber.

Mark Alves, his Portuguese skin tanned the colour of mahogany, pointed to the binoculars and said, 'I don't think we're going to get any prints off them. Hopefully we'll have better luck with this stuff.'

He pointed to the items on the table: a bloody straight-edged razor and labelled strips of duct tape.

Randy Scott, a pencil tucked behind his ear, stood next to Darby, flipping through pages on his clipboard. He smelled of sunscreen. He never tanned and avoided the sun. His father and brother had died of melanoma, the same skin cancer that had killed Darby's mother.

While she waited, Darby looked at the well-worn binoculars. NIKON was stamped on the plastic chassis. The manufacturer had installed a thick black rubber armour to prevent damage in case they were dropped. The rubber had cracked because of age and exposure, and she saw scratches on the lenses and a mended crack along the side the owner had repaired with glue. The heads of two Phillips-head screws had been stripped.

'Okay, here it is,' Randy said. 'The bloody footprints on the driveway, walkway and front steps belong to the EMTs. We matched them to the boots they were wearing last night. The footprints you found in the garage match the ones on the deck and kitchen floor. And the size and shape matches the muddy footprint on the living room carpet.

'We lifted a really good footprint from the garage and kitchen floors. The sole and tread marks match a type of sneaker called the Gel Nimbus, made by Asics. They're a size nine. They're also a woman's sneaker.'

'A woman's sneaker,' Darby repeated, more to herself than to Randy.

'That's according to the national footwear database we use, and I triple-checked everything just to make sure. That being said, I'm not suggesting a woman was inside the house. It could be that a man accidently bought them. It does happen on occasion. Tell her, Mark.'

Mark didn't answer, just kept writing on his clipboard.

'Tell me what?' Darby asked.

Mark sighed. 'There was this one time I accidentally bought a pair of women's sneakers. I went to a basement sale and some of the sneakers were mixed up. They fit, they were comfortable, so I bought them.'

'You said you liked the cute yellow stripes,' Randy said. 'That's why you bought them.'

Darby laughed. Mark shot Randy the finger and returned to his notes.

'I checked our footwear… database,' Randy said, grinning. The lab's footwear database consisted of a collection of three-ring binders. 'I didn't find a match to any evidence from local cases.'

'What did you find in the woods?'

'This way,' he said, opening the door.

She followed him to a small conference room. Bagged evidence sat on the table. He had tacked pictures of the evidence to a wall. Across from it, on a whiteboard, he had drawn a topographical sketch of the woods, dividing sections into twenty-eight quadrants and marking the areas where he'd found evidence.

'These areas right here – Quadrants 1 through 7 – are directly behind the back fence,' Randy said. 'The gentleman you encountered with the night-vision goggles stood behind the tree in Quadrant 17 – the same place you found the blister pack. That area gave him a great tactical advantage. He could see the woods, and he had quick access to the second incline that led up to the road.

'The first stun grenade landed here, in Quadrant 10, where you found the phone. We recovered the spent shell casings from that area and from the top of the second incline, Quadrants 24 and 25. They're all Smith and Wesson forties. We dug the slugs from the tree trunk and sent them up to ballistics.

'He threw three smoke grenades, and, as you can see, they line the second row here near the top of the first incline, Quadrants 9 through 13.'

'He created a smoke screen.'

'That's exactly what he did. He kept everyone back in order to provide enough time for him to grab the phone and for his partners to haul away the body. All the items of evidence we recovered were in tight, concentrated areas. Except for this.' He pointed to the top-left-hand corner, Quadrant 22. 'This is where I found the binoculars. It's far away from the other footprints we found in the woods. The footprints I found in Quadrant 22 match the ones left on the deck steps and on the garage floor.'