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Ally adjusted the mirror to find Josh on the backseat. “Yes, but what surprises me is the fact that you have.”
“New dog, old tricks.”
Chad shook his head. “The Desperado shuts at 2:30—”
“1:30 on a Tuesday.” Josh corrected.
“It’s 3:30 now, that’s a two-hour window.”
Ally turned to him. “Pete Jamerson refuses to hire a cleaner, the staff share the job between them, and leave to go home around an hour after closing.”
“2:30,” Josh said. “That’s an hour window.”
“Do you know where Tate was found?”
“Rapton Street. Two roads behind The Desperado.”
Ally mounted the curb outside St John’s and stopped the car.
Chad looked at her. “You could’ve parked in the drop-off zone.”
“Longer to walk.” Ally threw open her door, and climbed out. Chad did the same and they stared at each other across the top of the car. “We’re detectives,” She said. “It’s written in our contracts we can break the rules now and again.”
She walked off, leaving Chad and Josh to trail behind. He glanced at Josh, then looked again. “What the hell are you wearing?”
From the waist up, Josh looked smart, dressed in his shirt, tie, and suit jacket, but Chad couldn’t tear his gaze from Josh’s legs, and the pajama bottoms with superhero print. They were black, but embossed silver words of ‘pow! smash! and blam!’ covered every square inch.
“I’ve already gotten a tongue-lashing from Ally.”
“Why didn’t you get changed?”
“I was tired, got my shirt and tie on then forgot to change out of my pajamas. It’s an easy mistake to make.” Josh looked down at himself. “From a distance, they almost look like a pinstripe.”
“No, they don’t. You should’ve said. I would’ve let you borrow a pair of mine.”
Josh slowed his stride. “Shit. Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Well, it’s too late now.”
“We could swap?”
“Absolutely not.”
Chad spied Ally well ahead of them, talking to a woman dabbing her eyes with a tissue. A boy peeked out from behind her leg, staring up at Ally.
“This is DC Chad Fuller, and DC Josh Hancock, excuse the pajama bottoms, he’s only just learned how to dress himself.”
Chad shook the woman’s hand with the best reassuring smile he could muster plastered to his face. Her eyes were red-rimmed and sunken, and her grip was fleeting. She pulled away and scrubbed her hand down her face.
“This is Eleanor,” Ally said. “Tate’s mother.”
Eleanor’s head snapped up. “They’ve not let me see him. They told me to take a seat outside, but all I want to do is see my son.”
Ally squeezed her hand. “He’s in the best place, with the best possible people taking care of him.”
“This is the same hospital Dr Carter worked at,” Eleanor said. “A serial killer that’s still on the run. You can’t help but wonder, is this hospital safe?”
“Yes, it is,” Ally said firmly. “Don’t judge all the passionate doctors and nurses on one monster.”
