The street was quiet and deserted and wet.
The drive back home was much quicker and more relaxed, as he kept Sky busy and distracted with small riddles and guessing who sang the songs that they heard on the radio.
Collins was already awaiting their return. She was crouched in her red Mini, and once Thomas parked his car inside the garage, she precariously balanced a huge pile of folders and loose paper, as she headed towards his front door, which Sky held open for her.
He heard the girls greet each other and laugh inside, Barney happily chipping in.
While closing the gate, Thomas slowly looked over his shoulder towards his neighbour’s house. Richard’s car was still gone, and the building seemed eerily quiet. No smoke left the chimney, no smiling face waved at him from behind the curtain, and no candle burnt in the window.
He wondered whether it had been the right decision to make Richard one of their main suspects. But after all, it was he who had explained how the fencing sport worked and he who had kept his son a secret. Then again, he did not know anything about Lawson and the botched surgery. Or did he?
Thomas heard his name being called and looked up. Sky was dangling on the handrail next to the front door.
“Can I have more cookies, please?” she asked.
“No. We’ll eat something proper now. I’ll make some sandwiches.”
Half an hour later, he sat with Collins in his office, telling her the details from his trip to Mrs Cleaves.
“So, there are print marks on her back telling us that someone must’ve pushed her down the stairs and left her there to die in the basement. Now the crucial question is, are we looking for the same perpetrator?” she asked, taking a bite of her ham sandwich.
Thomas sat in his large, comfortable office chair, leaning back and crossing his hands behind his head. Next to him, Collins sat on a smaller version of his chair looking at him exhaustedly, her face pale and her eyes tired. He knew she had put in long hours during the last two nights, going through all the names Lawson had given them; it was something that she would never admit to in front of him, though.
And he knew something else. Now that all the research had been done, all the parts of the puzzle were lying in front of them, waiting to be put together. And interpreted. And understood.
“Yes, I think this was committed by one and the same person. We need Laura’s final report about time and cause of death, but I’m fairly sure she’ll confirm that the fall was brought about by someone else. What did that anaesthetist die of again? Dr Finnigan, I believe, was his name.”
Collins browsed through a folder and pulled out a coroner’s report. “Car accident. He went too fast around a bend and crashed into a tree.”
“Where was he headed?”
“To visit his mother in a nursing home.”
“So, he travelled along a road he knew and had driven many times. He knew the bend. Why did he go so fast?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t there, and they couldn’t ask him.”
“Collins, you can do better than that.” Thomas looked at her expectantly.
“His car had been tampered with?” She browsed through a couple more pages. “It says here, there were no skid marks. They assumed he might have had a heart attack or been unconscious for another reason. That’s why he didn’t press the brake.”
“Or because he simply couldn’t brake as someone had damaged them.”
Collins looked at him thoughtfully. “That would mean Dr Lawson’s death was the dot over the I of a string of murders? First Dr Finnigan, then Mrs Cleaves, and finally the great beast himself? That was long before, and very carefully planned.”
“Exactly, and that’s why this third murder seems so odd when you look at the bigger picture. Why do everything to make the first two murders look like an accident and then publicly display the third victim? I mean, we might have never made a connection between the deaths, or even started looking into Lawson’s past, if his death had looked like an accident. Cleaning his hunting rifle gone wrong, for example.”
Collins nodded. “His death is a message. Like… see, the bastard is finally dead, no more harm can be done. It’s revenge. And that leads us back to his former patients.” She tapped the large sheet of paper which they had stuck to his office window. It displayed all fifty-two names of Lawson’s former patients and the relevant information about each person’s life. Plus, one other. The mysterious grandchild only had a bold red question mark. Collins had canvassed all registration offices between St Anna and Turnden, and nowhere was a child of Dr William Lawson registered, let alone a grandchild.
“Okay, let’s go through them again. We must have missed something or interpreted something the wrong way,” Thomas said when his phone sprang to life.
It was Laura. She told him about two reports she had just received.
Firstly, Mrs Cleaves had indeed been pushed down the stairs as the print marks indicated, but prior to the fall, she had received a blow to the head with a hard metal object. Presumably she was unconscious when falling. They had not found any fingerprints, and the time of death coincided with the date on the wall calendar.
The second report was about Richard’s car. They had indeed found traces of dried blood in the boot. Thomas asked if they had identified it and held his breath. Laura’s reply made his heart skip a beat… but out of joy.
Just bunny blood, she said, and he remembered the roast hare he had savoured at the beginning of the week and assumed that the butcher’s bag containing the bunny must have leaked on the way home. He thanked Laura and hung up.
“So that means he’s not our main suspect anymore?” Collins asked.
“It means we need new proof to keep him as the main suspect. And you know that.”
Collins rolled her eyes at his last remark but did not respond.
For the next four hours, they went through every single name again, ranging from their suspects in the village to people they had never met before, and who had most probably only seen Lawson once in their life — a fateful encounter.
Together, Thomas and Collins mulled over various possible reasons and motives, reaching from blackmail to hurt love and, of course, the surgeries, but nothing provided a satisfying result. Most of the healthy patients did not even know they had a kidney missing. And the handful of people who were suffering from late complications pretended not to know the name of the doctor whose care they had been in years earlier. Who could blame them? They had been orphans as young as eleven.
In the end, Thomas and Collins had identified seven families who they wanted to speak to again the following Monday. In their phone interviews with Collins, they had admitted to knowing about the botched surgery and the hatred they felt towards the doctor for not providing any aftercare. However, all of them insisted that they did not know Lawson’s whereabouts.
They agreed that this statement, as well as their alibis, needed further investigation. With an uneasy feeling, Thomas noticed that Mrs Smetana’s family was among them.
The sun had long set on Turtleville, and in the end, Thomas decided that they needed a break. He told Collins to take Sunday off and they would meet again at the office on Monday morning with fresh minds. Until then, he would work out how to proceed from where they were.
He opened his office door and found Sky on the couch watching a movie, with Barney’s head on her lap.
“What have you been doing for the last four hours?” he asked, already anticipating the answer.
“I haven’t moved from this spot,” she replied over her shoulder, pointing at the couch.
“Then it’s about time to change that. Take the dog outside please. He’s been inside all day.”
“Can’t you just open the patio door? He’ll find his way out.”
“No, I can’t. But I can switch the TV off. Now.”
Reluctantly, and being watched over by Thomas who leaned against the patio door with his arms crossed over his chest, Sky put on her winter gear and trotted outsid
e with Barney in tow.
He closed the door from the inside and helped Collins into her jacket.
“She likes you,” Collins said with a shy smile.
“I just hope she’ll survive this chaotic environment in which she is growing up in without any lasting damages,” he replied shrugging. “Collins?”
She turned around slowly, looking up at him with her cat-green eyes.
“Thanks. For everything. You’ve been an immense help to me on this case. I really appreciate it.”
“Apparently, I’m not good enough.” She turned and left without saying another word.
Until now, Thomas had never realised how hard she was on herself. She often gave the impression — whether deliberately or not, he could not tell — of lacking the necessary determination, work ethos, and team spirit. But that was far from the truth, and he had done her wrong. Collins possessed more strength than he did but she kept it all to herself.
He cleaned up the lounge and kitchen and returned to his office, once more pondering names, motives, and opportunities, when a knock on the window made him jump. Carefully, he peeled away a part of the paper portraying Lawson’s patients.
Sky’s red face immediately appeared outside. “Hey, you locked the door from the inside, remember? We’ll be popsicles soon.”
Thomas laughed and motioned for her to go to the back door. Sky walked in, and he brushed the snow off her hat and parka.
“Did you two plough up the snow in the entire garden?” he asked.
“Yes, and Barney just can’t get enough. He doesn’t want to come in yet.”
Through the window of the back door, they saw a dark shadow run past them towards the swing, turn around abruptly, and run back.
“Oh well. We’ll leave him outside for another couple of minutes, but then you have to drag him in. Being too long in the snow isn’t good for his paws. Are you all right?”
She nodded. “The wind got really icy. My fingers are numb.”
“Then go and warm up in front of the fireplace,” he said, ushering her into the cosy lounge.
Thomas fed the fire with some fresh logs, and the spicy smell of beech wood immediately filled the room.
He glanced around, admiring once more his light arches and the small two-storey wooden pyramid, which was turning quietly on a table next to the couch.
The Christmas tree was still missing, but he would get one as soon as possible and decorate it with fairy lights so it would glow like a beacon in a corner of the large room.
The atmosphere could not have been more peaceful and festive, Thomas thought, if only he knew how to find their killer.
They stood quietly in front of the patio door, Sky’s head resting on his tummy, and in the reflection of the glass, he saw her thoughtful face. Thomas knew very well what she was thinking about. Tomorrow was her birthday, and David still had not called with the much-anticipated news that he had left the hospital and was on his way home. But since there was nothing Thomas could do, he decided there was no point in bringing the topic up either.
“What do you think about doing a cross-country ski trip tomorrow?” he asked. “If the weather permits.”
Sky turned around and looked up at him. “I thought I was grounded for the weekend.”
He had already forgotten about that, but of course, could not admit it. “Well, if you don’t want to go, I withdraw my offer.”
“No, no! I’d love to go skiing! Can Ann Collins come with us?”
Thomas would have preferred going with Kate, but he could not say so in front of the kid. Instead, he replied, “Look, Ann has worked really hard this week; she needs a break from us, I think.”
“But I could ask her. She doesn’t know the area. We could show her Cannonball Mountain or the Howling Gorge in the forest,” Sky explained excitedly.
“Okay.” Thomas lifted his arms in defeat. “You can give her a call and ask. But before that, you go and fetch your dog.”
Sky opened the patio door, shouting Barney’s name into the dark night. An icy whiff caught Thomas’s face.
“Looks like you have to put on your boots and parka and go outside again.”
“Stupid dog. He never listens,” she replied grumpily.
“It’s called education, and reminds me of another co-resident of this house,” he cat-called at her.
“Muppet!” resounded from the back door.
The clock in the lounge hit six-thirty, and Thomas switched the TV on again to catch the evening news. The weather forecast announced minus fifteen degrees for the night and strong Arctic winds, but Sunday was supposed to be a sunny and dry day. He turned the volume down and was on his way to prepare dinner when Sky shuffled inside looking distraught.
“What’s the matter, honey?” he asked, sitting down on the armrest of the couch.
“Barney’s gone. I can’t find him in the garden. I shouted his name, but he’s not coming, and there are so many traces in the snow that I can’t tell where he went.”
“Did you check in the shed?”
She nodded.
Inwardly, Thomas cursed the dog, but he could not leave him outside — not in this weather — and he knew it would break Sky’s heart not to have her dog with her that night.
“Okay, come on. Let’s have another look together.” He put on his winter gear and picked up a bright torch from the hook next to the basement door.
An icy, cutting wind ripped at his hat, and he pulled the hood of his parka up to keep it from flying away. His eyes watered instantly, tears froze to his cheeks, and the cold went through bone and marrow. Thomas shone the torch in every corner of his backyard; inside the shed, garage, and little summerhouse — as well as all the surrounding neighbours’ gardens. But Barney was nowhere to be found.
Richard’s house stood dark on the other side of the alley; not even the light arches had been switched on. He had a quick look at their backyard as well, but the blanket of snow seemed untouched. There were no paw prints on the road either; however, the wind instantly filled in his own footprints, so even if the dog had travelled along the street, there would be no clues left as to which direction he had chosen.
Sky tugged on his sleeve, and he bent down to understand what she was saying.
“Can I go up to daddy’s house? Maybe he’s followed Sergeant Collins and just walked home?” she shouted over the fierce storm.
Thomas was wondering the same. It would not have been the first time that the dog had walked to his main residence, only to realise that there was no food on offer and suddenly could not remember the way back to Thomas’s home again.
He nodded. “Okay, I’ll call Collins and let her know that you’re on your way. She can help you. You go there directly, and if you can’t find him, you come home immediately, understood? No wandering around in this weather.”
“Yes, will do.” She nodded.
“And take the torch with you.”
They separated at the gate, and he watched the torch light dance along the small alleyway until it vanished around the corner onto Station Street.
Thomas trudged around the house to the back door, shouting out one last time for Barney. When nothing moved, he rushed into the warmth of the house.
32
BACK in the kitchen, Thomas pressed his mobile phone between ear and shoulder and called Collins while peeling some potatoes. She answered on the first ring.
“Sorry to disturb you again, but Sky is on her way up to your house. I just thought I’d let you know in case you see someone with a torch wandering around the garden. The dog is gone. You haven’t seen him, have you?”
The line was quiet for a while, and then Collins replied slowly, “No. I have just taken the garbage out, but there was no dog.”
“Damn beast. Anyway, if you happen to see him give me a call, please.”
“Sure.”
“Something else: what’s the status on the surveillance footage from the snack bar and the supermarket? When can we analyse it?”
/> “Apparently, there’s some red tape with the Bohemian authorities regarding information exchange and data security. We should have it by Monday at the latest.”
“Data security?” Thomas asked incredulously. “What are they afraid of? That we’ll find out what the supermarket’s bestseller is?” He sighed. “Okay, we’ll wait until Monday noon, and then I’ll talk to those authorities in person.”
“Do that. Listen, I forgot to show you the list of dialysis patients I got from St Anna, Stony Creek, and Spruce Mountain Hospital this afternoon. I’ve checked all the names, and none of them have a connection to the patients mentioned by Lawson in his letter, who probably receive their dialysis in Bohemian hospitals far away from the border.”
“Hmm, would have been too much to ask for a connection there… did they tell you how this whole dialysis thing works?”
“It’s an artificial replacement, for people who lost their kidney function, to remove excess water and waste from the blood. Usually the kidney does that for you. Patients have to do that three to four times a week and are attached to a machine which purifies their blood for four to five hours. Quite a time-consuming thing.”
Thomas heard her browsing through the list of names in the background. He had put the peeler and potato back down again and was leaning on the edge of his kitchen island. An idea had suddenly settled in his mind, but he could not quite get hold of it. There was a murky haze inside his head, and he tried to clear his thoughts by pushing the unnecessary ones aside to substantiate this one flash of inspiration with facts. He closed his eyes, concentrating on his idea.
“So how do those who are affected actually feel? I mean, even though their blood is getting purified, they are not a hundred per cent fit, are they?” he asked after a while.
“The doctor said, for example, that they are not allowed to drink much because that would mean there is even more water in their body that needs to be removed, so they might feel weak, especially when it’s warm outside.”
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