Keep Quiet(19)

Jake flashed on Kathleen, bloodied in his arms last night.

“Problem is the coroner is in East Chester and he’s not always in his office, because he doesn’t have to be, and he’s the only one who’s allowed to pick up the body. He makes the declaration, then he takes the body to the hospital for the post. Postmortem, that is.” Officer McMullen steered the cruiser onto the road leading to the Chetwynd development. “People think the coroner does the post, but he doesn’t. He’s an elected official, and so’s the deputy coroner. They’re not even doctors. They could even be dentists. That’s why he’s not in the office half the time. Between you and me, it’s political.” Officer McMullen shook his head. “I guarantee the body’s still there.”

Jake’s stomach did a backflip, and another wave of guilt engulfed him. He knew he couldn’t hide it, so he turned his face to the window, where the police officer couldn’t see.

“So anyway, the post gets done at Paoli Hospital by a forensic pathologist, and unlike the coroner, he’s the real deal. He gets the trace evidence off the body, like hair, fiber, any prints, evidence like that. Between what he finds and what we find, we’ll get him.”

Jake spotted his house at the end of the street, not a moment too soon.

“It could be a woman, too. Remember last year, that socialite who hit that kid on a skateboard?” Officer McMullen eyed him in the rearview mirror. “Did you read about that case?”

“Yes, I did.” Jake edged forward, hoping that Ryan was nowhere near a window to see a police car pulling up.

“We caught her in the end, and we’ll catch this one, too. It might take us a week, a couple of months, or even a year, but we’ll get him. It’s only a matter of time.” Officer McMullen glanced over his shoulder. “What number did you say it was again?”

“My house? Two thirty-six, with the black shutters.” Jake scanned the fa?ade of his house, relieved nobody was at the windows. “Officer, thanks so much for the lift.”

“No problem, sir.” Officer McMullen steered the cruiser to the curb, slowed to a stop, and got out to open the back door. “Good luck with your car.”

“Thanks,” Jake said, fleeing the cruiser.





Chapter Nine


“What happened, honey?” Pam asked, meeting him in the entrance hall. Obviously, Ryan hadn’t confessed to her, because she looked like her normal self—sweet, loving, and concerned about him. But she must already have been in Ryan’s room, because Moose trotted up behind her.

“It was nothing, really. I hit the Dumpster at the Wawa. I clipped the edge.” Jake gave her a brief hug, so he didn’t get any residual airbag powder on her clothes. She was dressed for the gym, in glasses, ponytail, and a long T-shirt over her black yoga pants, but worry was etched into the lines of her lovely face.

“How did you do that? You weren’t on the phone, were you?”

“No, I hit the gas instead of the brake.”

“Really?” Pam recoiled, puzzled. “You’re a better driver than that.”

“I know.”

“So how did it happen?”

“God knows. I needed my coffee.” Jake let her go and shrugged it off, or tried to. He’d been too preoccupied on the ride home to make up a detailed story about the accident. “Mike’s is right there, and I don’t think it’s totaled, so it’s a nuisance, but that’s all.”

“Thank God.” Pam’s intelligent blue eyes searched his face from behind her glasses. “What’s that powder on your sweater?”

“From the airbag.” Jake brushed it away, but Pam lifted her eyebrow.

“The airbag went off? How fast were you going?”

“Not that fast.”

“But you have to be going a certain miles an hour for the airbag to go off. You must’ve been going kind of fast.”

“I didn’t think I was, but whatever. We’re insured, and I’m not going to sweat it. I have to rent a car.” Jake looked around for Ryan, masking his anxiety. “So what’s up with Ryan?”

“I don’t know, he seems really sick.” Pam raked her nails through her hair, which had a ridge from her ponytail. “He’s thrown up twice and he looks terrible.”

“Oh no.” Jake let his concern show.

“And he hardly slept last night. He didn’t want to tell me because he knows he can’t be sick now. The game’s Sunday. It’s the playoffs, remember?”

“Right.” Jake had forgotten. He didn’t know how Ryan would bear up under the pressure. It was getting worse and worse.

“He could have something, like a bug, but he was hiding it from me. I heard him in the bathroom and went in. He’s miserable, but there’s no fever. It could be the flu, there’s something going around.”

“That’s probably what it is. The flu.” Jake’s heart went out to his son. It sounded as if Ryan was distraught over the news about Kathleen, which was just what Jake would have expected. Ryan had to have known Kathleen, at least to say hello. And she had died at his hands.

“Wait a minute.” Pam frowned. “Did you tell me he had a hamburger last night, at the diner? I should call Sal right now and make a complaint.”