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Gibson grew quiet, his eyes down on the desk in front of him. He was sure Andrew had been talking to Nick. Maybe not. He would ask his brother-in-law later.
Nick uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, sliding even closer to the edge of his chair. Soon he would slip right off.
“Does the crew hang out after work?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“What kind of stuff are you into?”
“Biking.”
“Did Robbie go as well?”
“Sometimes.”
Nick bounced in his seat, wanting to break free. He squirmed at the next question.
“Tell me, Nick, why were you surprised when you saw the condom?” He pressed on quickly. “Do you know something?”
“No. Why would I?”
“So the condom didn’t mean anything to you?”
“That’s crazy.” Two bright spots appeared on his cheeks.
Gibson didn’t buy it. He thought Nick was holding back. So he leaned forward, pushing his face into Nick’s personal space.
“I don’t believe you,” he said.
“I don’t know anything.” Nick pressed his lips together.
To keep the secrets from spilling out, Gibson thought. He shuffled the pencil box on the desk, straightened his notebook and pulled back.
“What about baseball? Do you play?”
“No.”
“Anybody at work play?”
Nick shrugged.
“What time do you leave for work?”
“Sixty-thirty.”
“Do you stop anywhere before you get here?”
“What do you mean?” Nick asked.
“For a coffee or anything?”
“No. I come straight to work.”
“Check in with Scottie before you leave.” He leaned back further into his chair and crossed his arms.
Nick shot up and left the stuffy room behind.
Gibson heard heavy footfalls as Nick ran down the stairs. His stomach rumbled. He picked up his cell and sent a text. Then he got up to stretch, opened a window and waited to see who Scottie would send up next. The rain had started with a light shower, but the clouds to the south were gathering steam. The university buildings and sports arena across the sodden lawns shimmered through the blanket of drizzle, but he knew that soon a heavy downpour would obscure the view.
* * *
“We need coffee,” AJ said. Long hours sitting on cold concrete had frozen his butt. He rubbed vigorously at the muscles to bring them back to life. Fatigue was setting in. He looked haggard, his lips skinny as he gnawed on his cheeks. Almost all the crew were lounging on the floor, restless, tired and hungry.
“And our lunches,” Tim shouted.
A thundering sounded as someone came bounding down the stairs. Nick swung around the corner, gasping to catch his breath. It was more from fear than exertion.
“I’m supposed to check in with you.”
“You’re free to go,” Scottie said.
“Talk to you later,” Tim yelled.
Nick dashed out the door as quickly as his steel-toes boots would let him, tripping on the metal sill. The garage resonated with a laughter comparable to the heavy braying of a donkey.
“What’s the hurry, asshole?” Tim hurled the slur and a finger at the fleeing figure.
“You’re up next, David,” Scottie said.
He was immersed in his phone and didn’t hear the detective.
“David.”
“What?” He looked up and brushed a strand of hair behind his ear.
“You can go upstairs now.”
“Oh, okay.” He stuck the phone in his backpack and skipped out.
Scottie waited for a derogatory remark from Tim.
“Well. What about the food?” Tim asked instead of his usual slander.
“Okay. One at a time.”
She looked at her cell when it chirped. ‘Need refreshments.’
‘Will order sandwi
ches and coffee.’ She texted back.
“My lunch is in the other building,” AJ said.
“Go ahead. Just come right back.” She didn’t want anyone sneaking off.
“What about coffee?” One of the men asked.
“Could you do that, Jason?”
He gave a sneer and stormed out. The stairs rumbled from the force of his boots as he hopped up them two at a time. Scottie stuck her head outside the garage doors, hoping to spot an officer nearby. Luck was with her.
“Could you do me a favour?”
“You bet,” Eddy Evans said, a pleasant smile crossing his square face.
Chapter 7
Katherine sat in her vehicle for a few minutes, feeling intoxicated by Gibson’s strength. She plopped her head on the back of the seat and bundled her arms around her body, inhaling the smell of his soap, spicy and exotic. The heady scent lingered on her clothing. She closed her eyes and touched her lips, bruised from the passion. A flush warmed her cheeks. Sensing someone was watching, she sat up straight, started the SUV and backed out onto the street. The traffic had thinned from the initial morning rush so she drove the highway at a brisk clip. She took the last off-ramp that bypassed Brentwood Bay proper, missing the bottleneck of the village centre, and shortly pulled into her driveway.
The tune playing on the radio was a favourite so she waited for the song to finish before switching off the engine. She remained subdued, staring off at nothing. Her hands were half-curled into fists. Taking in a quick breath and blowing out slowly was a yoga technique she used more frequently these days. She reached over to the passenger side, snatched her handbag and exited the vehicle. She lumbered down the walkway and unlocked the front door to an empty house. Not totally empty. The trilling of the zebra finches sounded like breakers crashing on a rocky shoreline. She crossed to the living room and the metallic trumpeting song ballooned to a crescendo. She squatted next to the silver-barred cage and whistled an engaging chorus, puckering her mouth and letting the air pass over her tongue. In response, the birds tweeted one more round of their hymn. She placed her coat and handbag on the couch and drifted through to the kitchen.
