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Chapters (60)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. Acknowledgements
  59. About the author
  60. Copyright

Mitch took a deep breath, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. Chandler recognized the habit. The lighting of a fuse, as if trying to create a spark between the two digits. Chandler was curious what form the explosion would take these days.

‘What about this Seth, could he have been one of the victims?’

Heath shook his head. ‘It was just a name I saw. It might mean nothing.’

‘But you saw the graves.’

‘I saw what looked like graves.’

‘How many?’

‘I dunno.’

‘Take a guess.’ Mitch’s temper was building.

‘It happened too quick. I don’t know for sure.’

‘A number, Mr Barwell, give me a number. Five? Ten? Twelve? More?’

Heath stuttered. ‘Six, seven, eight . . . I can’t be sure. I was running for my life.’

With this Mitch stood up sharply, leaning over the table, face to face with the suspect. His voice was raised. ‘We need something more than that, Mr Barwell. So far you’ve given us nothing but hearsay. What you claim to have seen and what you claim to have had done to you. So give us a straight-up fact we can work with, or you’ll be in that cell for a long time.’

With Mitch close enough for Heath to grab him, Chandler stepped in, dragging Mitch away, his hands searching for purchase on the cool silk.

Mitch’s ire switched target, glaring at Chandler. ‘Get your hands off me, Chandler!’

‘You’re not going to get anything more out of him,’ said Chandler under his breath.

‘What the hell do you know? How many murder suspects have you interrogated?’

‘None,’ admitted Chandler, ‘but look at him, he’s a wreck – tired, injured, sweating. Anything we get out of him now could be the truth, a lie, or just something to shut us up. Let him cool down for a while.’

Mitch didn’t drop his stare. But he didn’t say anything either. The anger that burned in his deep brown eyes tempered. Chandler searched for some of his old friend in there but any compassion had been bled from them over the last ten years.

‘Take him back, let him rest for an hour and try again later,’ said Chandler.

Mitch batted Chandler’s hands away from his slick suit, and swung towards Heath with a forced smile.

‘I believe that’s enough for now, Mr Barwell. The sergeant here will escort you back to your cell.’

Mitch strode for the door. Reaching it, he glanced back at Chandler. Angry though he was, Mitch wasn’t about to be accused of deserting his duty and allowing a colleague to handle a dangerous suspect alone.

Chandler approached a now shivering Heath and clicked the cuffs into place. Looking up, Mitch had disappeared from the door, Tanya standing in his place.

17