‘Williams get an address?’

Coop nodded. ‘Timmy lives right here in Red Hill. Williams is petitioning a judge for a warrant to search Timmy’s house as we speak. I sent that sketch of Timmy to Williams, by the way. Williams pulled up Timmy’s licence photo and compared it with the sketch. It’s a near-match.’

‘Did you talk to RCFL to see if Timmy watched the interview?’

‘I did, and he didn’t. Which tells me he was already planning to go after the French family.’

‘You said Timmy Savran lives in Red Hill.’

‘That’s what Williams told me,’ Coop said. Williams said Timmy told Gondek that he came back to Red Hill to take care of his mother – she had cancer, needed radiation and chemo. Her son helped her out, and when it became a terminal situation – hospice and all that – Timmy started to look for work. He’s been in town for about three years.’

‘So he’s been here for three years and no one in town knows this guy?’

‘From what I was told, Timmy –’

‘And let’s stop with the Timmy shit. It sounds like we’re talking about a five-year-old kid.’

‘Okay, Eli was very sensitive about his condition. He dropped out of high school and started working odd jobs – nightshifts at factories and after-hours janitorial work where he wouldn’t have to interact with a lot of people. Guys like that live like vampires, they’re not around in the daylight.’

Maybe, Darby thought. Everything Coop had said sounded completely logical. So why was it eating at her?

‘There’s something else I need to tell you,’ Coop said. ‘Once the Bureau finds out what happened to Hoder, Otto and Hayes, they’re going to pull the plug on us.’

‘Not if you tell them that you’ve recovered Nicky Hubbard’s fingerprint they won’t,’ Darby said. ‘They’re not going to tell us to pack up and leave, not if you dangle the chance of all that great press under their noses.’

‘They’ll send in new people – senior people – to investigate what happened to the trailer. They’ll shake our hands, say thank you, send us packing and go to work. Before any of that goes down, they’ll want a full report from me – which will be hard to do, because my cell phone is infected and I can’t carry it with me at the moment. But the snow storm will buy us some time.’

‘How much time, you think?’

‘Forty-eight hours, if we’re lucky,’ Coop said.

A phone trilled from the corner of the room. Coop got up, fished the phone out of his coat pocket and answered the call.

‘Cooper.’ He listened for a moment and then he moved the mouthpiece away and said to Darby, ‘It’s Williams. He’s got the warrant.’

Coop turned back to his conversation. Darby sat up again, slowly, and, as she waited for the dizziness to pass and the throbbing to ease to a manageable level, she thought about what had happened last night at the French house, about why the Ripper had gone to such lengths to try to kill them when he could have simply faded back into the woodwork or, better yet, disappeared before the storm. Why stick around when he might be driving through some other state by now?

Darby was getting to her feet when she heard wet shoes squeaking outside her room. Deputy Sheriff Lancaster was storming through the corridor, heading her way.

59

Lancaster’s face didn’t seem friendly, though it was hard to tell. The right side was swollen, and Darby could see the beginnings of an eggplant-coloured bruise already at work beneath both eyes. The bridge of his nose was covered with a row of stitches.

Coop spoke into the satphone. ‘I need to call you back,’ he said, and rang off.

Snow lined the brim of Lancaster’s hat, and his wet boots squelched until he reached the foot of the bed. He didn’t take off his hat or gloves.

Bloodless greetings were exchanged.

Darby had returned to bed, and Lancaster leaned towards her slowly, deliberately, the way you did when you were about to impart a particularly harsh life lesson to a child. His cheeks were smooth, and she saw a small nick along his jawline. Apparently in the midst of all the chaos he had found the time to shave.

‘You’re goddamn lucky I’m not bringing you up on criminal charges,’ Lancaster said to her.

‘You had your chance yesterday,’ Darby said.

‘I’m talking about that interview you and Hoder set up. You deliberately provoked this guy, and for what? Two of your people are dead, one’s clinging to life, and I’ve got another butchered family. Their deaths are on you.’ Lancaster pointed at her as he said it.

Darby said nothing.

Coop had something to say. ‘Chief Robinson signed off on it.’

‘Which is exactly why we’re having this conversation.’

Darby swore she saw a grin tugging at the corner of Lancaster’s mouth.

‘Effective immediately, all current and past Red Hill Ripper investigations have been transferred to my office,’ Lancaster said. ‘That means Red Hill is no longer involved in any way, shape or form. That also includes you two.’

The hospital phone on her bed rang. Darby ignored it.

‘Pick it up,’ Lancaster said to her. ‘It’s for you.’

She brought the receiver up to her ear. Her good eye never left Lancaster’s face.

‘McCormick.’

A deep, rumbling voice spoke on the other end of the line: ‘Dr McCormick, my name is Tom Sutherland. I’m the attorney general for the state of Colorado, and this is a courtesy call to let you know that your services, as well as the FBI’s, are no longer required in Red Hill. You are not to involve yourself in any investigation. Fail to comply and we’ll be forced to file an obstruction of justice charge – and that’s just the appetizer. Do we have an understanding?’

‘No,’ Darby said into the receiver. ‘We don’t.’

‘What did you say?’

Darby hung up. ‘Anything else, Teddy?’

‘Stay the hell out of my investigation,’ Lancaster said. ‘The second this storm ends, you two are on the next plane outta here.’

The snow is no longer coming down hard and fast, like a great, white curtain, and the wind has died down considerably. I can actually see more than three feet in front of me, and the major roads are being ploughed, making driving easier. Places like Happy Valley Auto are still covered in a blanket so thick and wet the snow almost comes up to my kneecap, and I can feel water melting inside my boots by the time I reach the payphone.

Sarah answers on the first ring.

‘How many minutes are left on your burner?’ I ask.

‘A little over ten.’

‘Is it fully charged?’

‘I charged it before I left the house, like you told me to do.’

I had called Sarah last night after I’d taken care of the trailer. ‘The suitcases?’

‘I have them here with me.’

Her voice is detached, listless; it’s as if all the wiring inside her has been yanked from their power supply. She’s been this way since I told her the truth about what I did inside the Downes house all those years ago, and about my plan to correct my mistake.

And, just as I feared, the truth has changed her. A man who wants to murder children is a monster, and monsters aren’t worthy of forgiveness or redemption. You either put the animal down or you turn your back and run as far and as fast as you can, without looking back.

While I never doubted Sarah’s love, I had underestimated her devotion and loyalty. She’s still in Red Hill, waiting at the prearranged meeting spot – a good sign.

‘Is it done?’ she asks meekly.

‘Almost.’

‘You didn’t tell me she was so pretty.’

‘What?’

‘The FBI consultant. Darby McCormick. She’s on the front page of the Item’s website. She’s beautiful.’

I feel my heart beating in my throat. I didn’t tell Sarah about her.

‘Is she dead?’ Sarah asks.

‘Not yet. I’m working on it.’

‘That’s why you want to stay, isn’t it? You want her.’

‘No.’

‘But you’re thinking about it, aren’t you?’