When the worst thing that could possibly happen finally occurs, a kind of icy calm descends. Everything goes dangerously quiet. People who’ve been in car accidents talk about the sudden uncanny silence as the world spins and glass flies.
In the instant her eyes met Blazer’s disbelieving stare, Harper understood that. She felt no fear at all. Only a distant dull surprise.
Instead of thinking up a reason for her presence in a secure area, she noticed odd details – his tie was off and the top buttons of his pale blue shirt were undone. His hair was rumpled. The lines on his forehead were carved deeper than usual, his chiseled features softened by fatigue. There was a file tucked under his arm, and it struck her with cool clarity that he must have come to the archive to return it before heading home.
‘McClain?’ Blazer’s sharp voice jarred her, shaking her back to reality. ‘An explanation, please?’
The room zoomed back into view – the seriousness of the moment rushing at her like a tornado bearing down on a trailer park.
The problem was, she had no good answer to give him.
Fleetingly she considered the umbrella story, but she knew it wouldn’t fly. What would her umbrella be doing in the basement archive room?
She’d have to come up with something else.
Remembering something Tom Lane had told her long ago about lying – ‘Hide the lie among the truth and no one will see it there’ – she forced her expression into a look of surprised innocence. Eyes widening, breathing normal – slow and steady.
‘I was looking for a file,’ she explained, as if this made perfect sense. ‘An old case file.’
Blazer’s eyes narrowed.
‘Nothing in this room is public record. Did you get permission?’
‘Not exactly,’ she admitted. ‘But I’ve been allowed to look through cold case files before. And it’s a very old case, so I didn’t think anyone would mind. I could have waited until next week, but it was a quiet night so I thought I’d do it now and tell the lieutenant about it tomorrow.’ She gave her shoulders an easy lift. ‘Usually it’s no big deal.’
His mouth twisted.
‘It’s ten o’clock at night. And you’re in a secure area without permission. I can assure you, McClain, this is a big deal.’
Blazer’s steady stare was unrelenting. She knew detectives well enough to know he was searching for minute signs of deception – looking for tells she didn’t know she had.
She fought back the panic rising in her chest. Aside from the two of them, the corridor was silent and ghostly. No one knew she was down here.
She was certain if she talked too much he’d clock her nerves, so she said nothing – she just waited for him to ask a question.
‘What case file were you looking for?’ he asked after a long pause.
In an instant, Harper thought of other crimes she’d written about, images of bodies lying on concrete flashed through her mind, blood pooling on marble floors, walls riddled with bullet holes, guns lying forgotten in long grass.
So many cases. But the only name that came to mind was …
‘I was looking for the files on my mother’s murder.’
Blazer’s hand jerked, sending coffee splashing onto his polished leather shoes.
‘You were … Why?’
Now Harper began watching him closely. Had mention of her mother’s case made him nervous?
‘I have a theory that my mother’s murder is connected to the Whitney case,’ she explained. ‘To know if I’m right, I need to see the records of my mother’s case. There’s not much going on tonight, so I thought I’d take advantage of that and check the files, but I forgot I’d need the case number and I don’t have that. So I gave up.’
‘You didn’t see the file?’
She gestured at the long rows of metal shelves behind her, filled with stacks of cardboard boxes.
‘How could I find it without the number?’
His eyes assessed her so coldly Harper fought the urge to shiver.
‘What on earth makes you think the two cases are connected?’ he asked brusquely.
Harper didn’t blink. ‘Same weapon, same MO, same clinical crime scenes, similar victims.’
If he noticed how easily those facts tripped off her tongue he didn’t show it.
‘That is extremely unlikely,’ he said, ‘your mother was killed over a decade ago.’
‘I am well aware of that.’ Her tone cooled. ‘If the person who killed her was thirty-two years old, that would mean they’re, what now? Forty-seven?’
At that moment, the lights in the corridor turned off, plunging Blazer into shadows. This happened regularly – the hallway lights were connected to motion detectors. All he had to do to get them to come on again was move. But he didn’t move.
They stood facing each other in total darkness. Harper could barely see him.
‘How would you know the age of your mother’s killer? He’s never been caught.’
There was a quiet menace to his voice.
He was standing too close. She didn’t like this at all.
‘I …’ Her mouth went dry. ‘I don’t,’ she said. ‘It was only an example.’
Blazer took an abrupt step back. The small movement was enough to send light flooding through the corridor, illuminating the gray concrete walls. And the unexpected sympathy in Blazer’s eyes.
‘Look, McClain,’ he said with a tired sigh. ‘I don’t know how you know as much as you know about the Whitney case but, given that you do, I can understand why you might think it could be tied to your mother’s murder. There are enough superficial similarities that we noticed them, too.’ He paused. ‘You might not know that I worked on your mother’s case as a junior detective. I remember it well.’
Harper was struck speechless by this. Blazer continued without waiting for her to respond.
‘I can’t explain why the killings look so similar,’ he admitted. ‘Sometimes you get two, unconnected crimes with the same MO. It happens. In the end, the simple fact is, there are critical differences that indicate to us it’s not the same person.’ He paused. ‘I thought the lieutenant talked to you about this.’
‘He did,’ Harper said, recovering. ‘But—’
‘But you don’t believe him,’ he cut her off. ‘And you don’t believe me.’ He took another step back, his expression flattening. ‘You know what your problem is, McClain? You’re not as smart as you think you are. And people who are half-smart like you get other people in trouble.’
‘I’m not getting anyone in trouble,’ she said.
But his patience had expired.
‘Forget it,’ he said, stepping back into the corridor. ‘McClain, you’re trespassing in a secure area without authorization. I intend to report this infraction to the head of the Information Unit and ask that your press credentials be revoked. I suggest you notify your editors.’
He gestured for her to walk in front of him.
‘Let’s go.’
Harper knew there was no point in arguing any further. She had no choice but to do as he said.
All the way down the cold, damp hallway and up the stairs he marched her, always unnervingly close behind, that coffee still clutched in one hand.
When they reached the security door, he slammed his fist against the green exit button, shoved the door open and stood to one side, pointing across the lobby at the front door.
‘Get out now, McClain, before I arrest you.’
At the front desk, Dwayne stood up, a worried line above his eyes.
Harper shot him an apologetic look as she passed.
When she reached the front door, she looked back. Blazer still stood there, watching her every step. Making sure she was gone.