‘Battery’s three quarters full,’ she said.

‘Fantastic. So you’ll have no problem checking in with me when you get there and calling me when you leave.’ Coop held up a hand before she could say anything. ‘Just do it for me, please, no argument. I need to focus on what’s going on here, and I can’t do that if I’m worrying about you, okay?’

‘Aye, aye, Captain.’

The old stone wall on Route Six is a mile away from the border separating Red Hill from Brewster. It’s short in length but wide enough to accommodate two lanes of cars, and even when it’s ploughed people tend not to drive across it during the winter. The guardrails are made of stone instead of galvanized steel; you take the corner too fast or if your car slides on ice, chances are you’ll hit the wall, go over the side and plunge thirty feet into the river.

The river hasn’t frozen over yet. I toss the MacBook holding the videos of the dead families over the side of the bridge and watch it sink into the dark and murky waters. I toss the other items – an external hard drive and several USB keys – and feel a sweet and blessed relief surge through me.

Sarah calls as I’m making my way back to the car.

‘McCormick and the other one, the really tall guy with dirty-blond hair, they went to the Silver Moon Inn and arrested her.’

‘Arrested who?’

‘The woman who works the front desk. They arrested her.’

I slide behind the wheel, thinking.

‘You’re sure?’

‘They handcuffed her,’ Sarah replies. ‘Is she a problem?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe. Did they see you?’

‘No, absolutely not. I followed their tyre tracks in the snow, just like you told me to. It was easy, there’s hardly anyone on the roads.’

I can’t back up; the road behind me is too steep and I might get stuck. I put the car in gear and drive across the bridge.

‘Where are you?’ Sarah asks.

‘I just got rid of the MacBook and the other stuff.’

‘You sure this is going to work?’

No, Sarah. I’m not sure of anything right now.

I reach the end of the bridge, do a three-point turn and drive back across it.

‘Eli Savran is all over the radio,’ Sarah says.

‘I know. I’ve been listening.’

‘I’m worried.’

I am too. I reassure her everything’s going to work out. After I hang up, I stare out the windows, at the roads, and wonder if it’s time to disappear. Alone.

66

Ray Williams didn’t answer his phone. Darby left him a message about the ink and a quick summary of the Laurie Richards situation; then she told him where she was going, hung up and went outside to the waiting patrol car.

Barry Whitehead, the patrolman who had volunteered to drive her to Sally Kelly’s house, had a beard that looked like pubic hair had been glued to his face. He was somewhere in his late twenties and wore a wedding ring, and his patrol car smelled of Copenhagen dipping tobacco. Several tins were stuffed inside the dashboard’s cubbyholes. He didn’t talk, which Darby appreciated. She used the quiet to sort her thoughts.

Sally Kelly’s driveway had recently been ploughed, and her black Honda Accord had been cleaned off. Whitehead pulled in and put the car in park.

‘Stay here and leave the motor running,’ Darby said. ‘I’ll be back in a few.’

‘Your federal friend told me specially not to let you out of my sight.’

‘If I need you, I’ll holler.’ Darby didn’t want him listening in on her conversation. Deputy Sheriff Lancaster, Williams had told her, had spies everywhere. If Whitehead, with his wide, gummy smile, was one of them, she wasn’t going to let him give Lancaster a heads-up.

Darby held up her satellite phone. ‘Watch this,’ she said, and dialled Coop’s number. A moment later, she said, ‘I’m here, Daddy-o. I’ll call you when we leave.’

She hung up and opened the door.

‘If you’re not out in ten minutes, I’m coming in,’ Whitehead said as she got out. ‘I don’t need no fed putting my nuts into a meat grinder, know what I’m saying?’

‘Got it.’

The roofed porch protected Darby from the snow but not the wind. It slammed into her back as she pressed her thumb to the doorbell and kept it there.

Sally Kelly opened the door a crack. She wore pink slippers and a matching bathrobe over a big wool sweater that went down to her knees. Her red-rimmed eyes looked sleepy.

That sleepy look vanished when she saw Darby’s bandaged face.

‘The Ripper struck again last night,’ Darby said. ‘I’m sure you read about it.’

‘No. No, I haven’t. I’ve been in bed all day. I’ve got that nasty stomach bug that’s going round.’

‘May I come in?’

‘I’ve already told you everything I know about David and his family.’

Not everything, Darby thought. ‘I need to talk to you about the Red Hill Ripper.’

‘I told you yesterday, I don’t have any interest in that business.’

‘Then maybe you can tell me why you watched the video interview.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Of course you do. Your local newspaper, the Red Hill Evening Item, posted a video of me on their website. You watched it last night at half past one.’

Sally Kelly stiffened, shooting Darby a look that said How could you possibly know such a thing?

‘Oh, that. Yes, I saw it.’ Kelly nearly choked on her words. ‘I decided to check on the storm, and I saw the video and decided to take a look.’

‘At half past one in the morning?’

‘I told you, I wasn’t feeling well.’

‘Why would you watch the interview when you don’t have any interest in the Red Hill Ripper?’

‘Well, I … Yesterday, after you left, you got me thinking about this person, so when I saw the video I was … I was curious and decided to watch it. I got so upset thinking about David and his family that I stopped watching.’

‘You watched it from beginning to end,’ Darby said. ‘Twice.’

Kelly looked like she’d been hit on the back of the head with a shovel.

‘And,’ Darby said, ‘you watched the video again this morning at a few minutes past eight.’

‘I need to go back to bed.’ Kelly went to shut the door.

Darby’s foot prevented it from closing. ‘Why did you lie to me, Ms Kelly?’

Kelly bundled the robe around her tightly, like a shield. Once again, Darby was struck by the smallness of the woman. The fragility. If she stepped outside, the wind would blow her off her feet, sending her deep into the woods behind the house, where she wouldn’t be found until spring.

‘Ms Kelly?’

‘I wasn’t lying. I must’ve been – the medication I’m taking for my fibromyalgia, sometimes I have a hard time remembering things.’

‘Yesterday you told me you couldn’t afford the medication.’

‘I get confused – especially when I’m upset, like now.’

‘I think I should come in now, so you can tell me the truth,’ Darby said.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

‘Telling the truth or me coming in?’

‘Coming in. I wouldn’t want you to catch this bug. I can’t keep food down, water, anything.’

‘I’ll take my chances.’

‘Please remove your foot.’

Darby’s head pounded; the staples along the left side of her face felt as though they were tearing into her skin. The Tylenol had made the pain somewhat manageable. She couldn’t say the same about her judgement. She shoved the door, and Sally Kelly along with it.

Kelly staggered backwards. Darby entered the house and, slamming the door behind her, went over to the woman, who had collapsed on her plastic-covered couch.

Kelly held up trembling hands, as though trying to ward off a blow. ‘Please,’ she said. ‘I don’t –’

‘Don’t want to get involved?’

‘I need to go back to bed. I’m not feeling well, and you’re scaring me.’

‘Good. Because I know why the Ripper is killing these families. Laurie Richards told us –’

Darby cut herself off; she had seen a shadow jump across the wall opposite her.