‘I need to get rid of her and the other one. Once they’re dead, we’ll be safe.’

‘Then let me help you.’

I blink in surprise. ‘You’d do that for me?’

‘Why would you even ask me that? Baby, I would lay down my life for you.’

I feel the trepidation in my heart, and my throat is tight when I say, ‘Sarah, honey, I’m so sorry about –’

‘Stop. Tell me what I can do to help.’

‘I need to do something first. I’ll contact you when I’m ready.’

‘I love you.’

Once I’m seated back behind the wheel, I reach underneath the seat for the rope. It’s sealed inside a clear Ziploc bag. I unzip it and when I press my nose against the bag and inhale the blood and skin and sweat that’s seeped into the rope, in my mind’s eye I see Darby McCormick, her long, auburn hair spilling over her bare shoulders, every delicious inch of her skin exposed. My loins harden and thicken, and I feel the gates to the kingdom of heaven opening.

60

Eli Timothy Savran lived inside a tiny ranch house painted an awful robin’s egg blue. The inside featured mahogany-panelled walls and furniture that had been purchased sometime in the late sixties or early seventies, and the fabrics, curtains, throw pillows and rugs were all depressing shades of brown and dark yellow.

Darby crossed the front door’s threshold with Coop and stepped into a living-room with a low ceiling and a soapstone fireplace. The sliding glass door on the other side of the rug had been opened, along with the windows, and, while the air blowing inside the house was cool and clean and carried the pleasant, smoky odour of a nearby woodstove or fireplace, nothing could erase or lessen the permeating, baked-in reek of spoiled meat and fish that hung about the walls like an obscene presence. Her eyes immediately watered, and the food she had grabbed on her way out of the medical centre and eaten during the drive – a banana, instant coffee and an egg sandwich on soggy toast – immediately revolted inside her stomach. When Williams offered her a paper mask, Darby reached for it like it was a life preserver.

Coop gagged and then used the crook of his arm to cover his nose and mouth. ‘Jesus,’ he said in a muffled voice. ‘Maybe we should call a priest and have him perform an exorcism.’

‘It’s even worse in the bedroom,’ Williams said. Rivulets of sweat ran down his face, and, despite the cold air, the underarms of his blue dress shirt were marred with dark wet circles.

‘You feeling all right?’ Darby asked him.

‘I’m operating on zero sleep, and I think I’m coming down with the flu,’ Williams replied. ‘This way.’

The living-room bled into a small kitchen filled with a dull grey light. A patrolman she didn’t recognize, his mouth and nose covered by a mask, opened the cabinets with gloved hands. As she gingerly fitted the mask over her mouth, Darby heard the old refrigerator’s motor wheezing what seemed like a death rattle.

She heard movement coming from the hall behind her. She turned and saw the patrolman she’d met last night, Griffin, rooting through a bureau drawer.

‘How’s your head?’ Williams asked her.

‘Still on my shoulders,’ Darby replied. ‘How long have you been inside here?’

‘Long enough to know we found our man. This place smells like it was dipped in shit.’

Darby trailed Williams down a hall to the left of the door, the walls decorated with pictures of a stern-looking woman with a dead gaze and a frosted bouffant hairstyle. Darby’s head was pounding; she had to concentrate on where she stepped. Coop stuck close to her side.

‘I understand you came by to see me this morning,’ she said to Williams.

He stopped and looked at her, confused. ‘We talked for a few minutes. Don’t you remember?’

‘No,’ Darby said. ‘What did we talk about?’

‘Teddy. I came to tell you he’s taking over the case.’

‘He came to see us,’ Coop said, and told Williams about Lancaster’s visit to the hospital.

‘How’s Hoder doing?’ Williams asked after Coop had finished.

‘It’s touch and go.’

‘I’m sorry. He’s a good man. So were the other two. They didn’t deserve to go out like that.’

Then she followed Williams into a wallpapered bedroom that looked like it belonged to an adolescent boy. The twin bed had old Star Wars sheets and a matching comforter. The bookcase across from it held paperback science fiction novels, action figures and spaceship models, many of which she didn’t recognize. Autographed pictures of Captain Kirk and Captain Picard were tacked crookedly to the wall above the bookcase.

On top of a small wooden desk Darby spotted a charging cord. She pointed to it and said, ‘Where’s the Mac?’

‘Don’t know. I didn’t find a laptop anywhere in the bedroom, so either it’s in some other part of the house or he took it with him. How do you know he uses a Mac?’

‘The charger at the end of the cord,’ Darby replied. ‘It’s the boxy, magnetic Apple one.’

Williams nodded, then used his forearm to wipe his face. Her attention had drifted up to the wall-mounted shelves above the desk. They were packed with thick computer texts that dwarfed the size of any major metropolitan city phonebook. Futuristic sci-fi weapons encased in clear Plexiglas boxes served as bookends.

‘We found a bottle of neomycin in his medicine cabinet,’ Williams said. ‘Savran gets it from one of those internet pharmacies. Take a look in the closet.’

Darby borrowed a pair of latex gloves from Williams. ‘Coop told me you talked to the guy in charge of the cleaning service.’

Williams nodded. ‘Ron Gondek,’ he said, and again used his forearm to wipe his face. ‘Gondek didn’t have much to do with Savran, either professionally or personally. Told me Savran was pretty much a loner. Kept to himself and preferred to work by himself. But he was reliable, showed up to the jobs on time and was never a cause for complaint, except for his BO problem.’

Darby opened the closet door. Pressed dress shirts, trousers and khakis hung from the rack, along with two suits. One was black, the other like the one the Tuttle woman had described – dark brown, double-breasted, a J. C. Penney label stitched on the inside.

Coop, standing behind her, pointed to the single shelf above the clothes and said, ‘Looky looky.’

To the left of the neatly folded wool sweaters were several rolls of duct tape. Behind them she found a box of tracer ammo and a clear plastic bag stuffed with zip ties.

‘Pick up one of those rolls and see if the manufacturer’s name’s on it,’ Coop said. ‘Our lab got the duct tape I sent them. They started work on it this morning and, last time I checked in, were still trying to run down the brand.’

Darby pinched a roll between her fingers and read the label printed on the inside cardboard tube. ‘It’s called “Tough Armour”,’ she said.

‘Never heard of it.’ Coop removed the satphone from his pocket.

‘Hold up,’ Williams said. ‘We need to have a talk.’

61

‘About what?’ Darby asked.

‘About Teddy and the call you got this morning from our AG,’ Williams said. ‘I’m inclined to take their threat seriously. So should you two.’

Darby felt her pulse jump in her throat. ‘Two agents are dead, one’s in critical condition, Coop and I almost got our heads blown off last night and you’re expecting us to, what, go back to the hotel and order room service?’

Williams held up a hand. ‘Let me finish,’ he said softly. ‘Teddy’s in charge of this thing now, which means I’m supposed to call the son of a bitch and tell him about Eli Savran. Now, I don’t want to do that, but the truth is I have to, because I’ve got a solid suspect who’s currently MIA. The boys and I have been taking turns keeping an eye on this shithole since four, and his vehicle, a ’96 forest-green Ford Bronco, wasn’t here; nor has it been seen anywhere in town yet. For all we know, Savran bolted after the pyrotechnic display he put on last night at the French house. He could be in another state by now. So, in addition to everything else that’s going on, I’ve got a manhunt on my hands. I had to put in a call to the state police and the US Marshals Service. I’ve already got a judge to sign off on Savran’s bank statements and credit cards.’