Page 62 of Slack Tide Kill

"Reg Rook, of course! Big man in a bad bunch, him. Figured he was the second coming of Dr. Syn, all those Owler smugglers?" She hawked and spat into the shingle. "You've got one of his boys locked up now."

"We do, yes."

"Well don't let the little shit out. Rooks are bad news, that's a forecast I'll stand by. Reg was bad, but his full litter of sons?" She shook her head.

Sally felt like she was barely keeping up. Full litter was an odd expression. "Why do you think Reg Rook killed your nephew, Nancy?"

"Because I saw him that night. Tom, I mean. And he was running scared. Came by my house, like he used to when he was just a lad. Told me he'd fallen in with the Rooks, and he'd seen something he shouldn't have. It weren't people they smuggled back then. It were something worse, he said."

"What's worse than people?"

"I've no clue. He never said. But he was scared, proper. Then he was dead, done with the shells in his eyes to warn off other tattletales, I figured."

Tattletales. Sally tried to piece that into her understanding of the initial case. "And you told this to the detectives at the time?"

"Oh, yeah." Cagen waved a hand. "I said it to the man in charge, Stewart, about the only decent one in that lot. He promised to look into it. But I was a bit of a drunk back then, so ain't nobody listened to me much. Pretty bad, the whole mess." She chuckled. "No doubt Rook had his hand in half those coppers' pockets. So, it died on the vine."

Sally's phone rang. The sound was loud and jarring, cutting through the weight in the air. "Just one moment," she said, and answered. "Rogers."

"Rogers, it's DCI Mayhew," came the stern voice. "If you and O'Connell are still operational, get here ASAP. We have the victim's ID."

Sally looked at Cagen. "What's the name, DCI?"

"Get here and find out."

The line went dead.

Cagen smiled. "Our Gloria, was it, Sally?"

Sally looked at her. The older woman's features blurred against the ebbing gray tide. Along with the reactor, the lighthouse, the Crab Shack and now two dead boys, this woman seemed just as much a part of the Dungeness landscape. Worn and weathered by the wind and waves. Half-sunk, maybe, like a rock brimming with secret gems, under the slack tide line.

She thought of what the Fates had told her. That the killer belonged. That they wore that belonging like a cloak of invisibility.

"I'd like to talk again, Nancy," she said. "About Reginald Rook. About your nephew and the other officers on that case."

Cagen waved at the beach. "You know where I'll be, Sally. Always happy to share my old ghosts for a spell."

She turned and walked away, receding into the pre-dawn gloom. A shiver ran down Sally's back, then she scooped up the forensics tent and headed back to her Mustang.

The tent filled the whole back seat. She collected the plastic bag containing her borrowed uniforms and wriggled into the newer set, then called Liam.

He answered groggily. "Sally?"

"We're in business, Liam. Mayhew's got the ID. I'll see you in Rye."

A few seconds passed. "Are we not in Rye now?"

"You are. I'm on my way."

26 ON THE BRINK

Twenty minutes later, Sally parked in the station's back lot, already feeling the shift in the air. There were many more patrol cars now, the press presence was fortifying at the front, and Akilota's forensics van was in the corner. She heaved the tent out of the back, dumped it by the van then rounded the corner to the front entrance.

Tania Brown was waiting for her. She wore another pink outfit, this time a brighter clamshell shade, paired with lurid candy-pink lipstick.

"Officer Rogers," Brown shouted, dragging the camera lens toward her. "Nice uniform. Been demoted already?"

Several of the press laughed. Sally kept on walking.