When Sully’s cell phone rings with a call from the precinct, she quickly excuses herself from Lieutenant Colonomos’s office.
The waiting room beyond has hardwood floors, plaster walls, and dark wood moldings. The furniture is entirely devoid of plastic, metal, and particle board. Nice. Really nice. Not just nicer than the precinct, but nicer than Sully’s apartment—-and a hell of a lot bigger.
She answers her phone. “Detective Leary.”
“Where are you?” It’s Jin Kim, the on--duty desk sergeant.
“In Mundy’s Landing.”
“Okay, listen. A call came in to the tip line a few minutes ago about the case you’re working.”
“The Sexton case?”
“Right. Some guy said he had some information and he wanted to talk to you.”
“What else did he say?”
“Nothing. Not a damned thing, other than that he wanted to talk to you and only you.”
“Why?”
“No clue. But he wanted your personal number.”
Her heart is pounding. “Did you give it to him?”
“No! I told him to call back in five minutes and I’d patch him through. He agreed. Can you sit tight until he calls back?”
Of course she can.
“Did you get his name, location, anything like that?” she asks Jin.
“He was on a cell phone and he tried to block the number, but of course we traced it right away.”
“Of course.” Cakewalk compared to some tech--related tasks.
“It was a Jersey area code. We got his name.”
“What is it?”
“It’s Richard Walker.”
The final segment of the historical society tour, after the cookies and cocoa, takes the class into the small modern annex behind the kitchen. It feels strikingly ordinary after the sumptuous mansion.
Everything about the meeting room is monochromatic and rectangular: the furniture, windows, tile floor, drop ceiling, and beige--painted cinder block walls.
“All right, boys and girls,” Miss Abrams says, “now we’re going to see how well you were paying attention. We’re going to divide into two teams and play a trivia game.”
Predictably, Amanda Hicks immediately waves her hand in the air. “I want to be a captain!”
“No captains,” Rowan says firmly. “We don’t do schoolyard picks.”
Predictably, Bari Hicks protests. “Why not? It’s the only fair way to do it.”
“Because it’s not fair. It’s a popularity contest, and someone always has to be picked last.”
“So? That’s life,” she says, apparently confident that her own daughter would be among the first chosen.
Somehow, Rowan refrains from telling her that the opposite would be the case, but it’s getting more difficult to control her temper when she’s already under enough duress. She excuses herself from the room after the kids count off numbers, odds versus evens, and line up on opposite walls for the showdown.
Outside, snow is coming down harder. She turns on her phone again.
There are no new texts and no messages. But that’s not why she’s here.
She takes a few deep breaths in an ineffectual effort to steady her nerves, then shakily dials Jake’s number.
“Why you?” Barnes asks, predictably, when Sully tells him and Colonomos about the tip line caller’s request. “We were both mentioned by the media in connection with the case.”
“Yes, but I’m the one with the sparkling personality.”
“You’re also the one with the red hair.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
She and Barnes exchange a long look. He’s obviously thinking the same thing: that the caller, Rick Walker, might very well be the killer.
Her phone rings right on cue.
She picks it up immediately. “This is Detective Leary.”
“Hello there, Detective.” Rick Walker’s voice is mid--range, pleasant, unaccented. There’s music playing in the background.
“With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”
Ignoring her question, he asks one of his own: “Where are you?”
“I’ll tell you if you tell me.”