“Wecannaesay just yet,” Finley replied, looking at meand holding my gaze. “But we ken where to find ye, if we need to ask ye anymorequestions.”
Wilmanodded, satisfied with his reply. “Well, if yedinnaeneed me any longer, I'll be on my way. Fritz will bewonderin'where I've gone off to, and Idinnaeneed himwanderin' over here again.”
Ismiled. “I think we can manage from here. Thank ye foryercooperation.”
Witha firm nod, she turned and headed back up the hill to her cottage. But notbefore another strong gust of wind nearly sent her hat sailing. Finley and Iwatched in unabashed amusement before she disappeared behind the door, andthen, he turned to me, as serious as he was back at the office.
“Brodie.”
“Hm?”I grunted in reply.
“Wereye the one who declared the American's death an accident?” he accused with afurrowed brow.
Itsurprised me that he would ask, especially given his nonchalant demeanor theother day, but I didn't let it show as I shook my head.
“No.”
Nodding,Finley crouched beside me, pulling a pen from his pocket, and lifted the shoefrom the ground, with dried, dead leaves adhered to one side. Then, hemuttered, “It was dropped here when the blood was still fresh.”
“Aye,”I agreed,noddingand studying the shoe, hangingbefore us.
“Doye remember if the other shoe looked at all like this?” he asked, turning tome.
Hedidn’t know that I'd been studying the photos of Grace's corpse for days, orthat I knew with certainty that her other shoe didn't look anything like theone hanging from the tip of his pen. So, I shrugged and replied, “Idinnaeken. I want to say it was clean.”
Hegrunted as he nodded. “So do I.”
Theshoe was placed on its bed of leaves and dirt, and the two of us stared at it,seemingly together in the uncertainty of what to do. It couldn't be used asevidence, seeing as there wasn't an open case. And we knew any mention of it tothe Chief Inspector would be brushed under the rug, just like my insistencedays before that this wasn't like any accident I'd ever seen. But it felt likea crime to just leave the shoe here or throw it in a rubbish bin, as if itnever existed at all.
“Therewassomethin' else I startedthinkin'about,” Finley grumbled, staring ahead, his eyes cutting through the trees anddeep intoCoilleFeannag.“After that day.”
“Hm.”
“Wherewas the blood on the stone?” I turned my eyes on him and watched inquisitivelyas he continued with his brow furrowed and his head shaking. “Yewerenaethere when they moved her, but … the back of herskull was crushed, man. Completely fuckin' obliterated. And never mind thatfallin' from that height neverwouldaecaused damage that severe but ye would think there'd be blood, right?”
“Aye,there'd have to be.”
“Well,therewasnaeanythin’ there,”he replied, meeting my eye.
“So,what're yesayin'?” I asked, needing to hear him sayit.
Incredulous,he scoffed and thrust a hand toward the thick of woods. “She was fuckin' putthere! You were right before; this is no fuckin’ accident. Yecannaetell me yehavenaebeenthinkin’ about it for days, because I sure as fuck have.”
Pullingin a deep breath, I nodded slowly, allowing him to cross just the verythreshold of my inner trust and no further. “I have,” I admitted, turning mygaze on the trees. “And ye’re right. Shewasnaekilled in there.”
Hegrunted his agreement, then as he got to his feet, said, “I'mgonnago look at the stones. Are yecomin'?”
Finleystarted toward a break in the trees without waiting for my response, and Iwatched him with growing suspicion. I hadn't known him for long, only threemonths. But I liked him enough. We got along well, andneverbeforehad I suspected him capable of cold-blooded murder. But now, Icould see him with my mind's eye, brutally beating a woman without any obviousmotive. I had to wonder, was he luring me into the woods now with the knowledgeof my suspicion and private investigation fueling his decision to kill me?
Imoved slowly behind him, following between trees and over snapping twigs andcrunchy leaves, staying aware of every passage and possible escape in case Ineeded to make a quick getaway. I considered grabbing a stray branch, to use asa weapon if needed, but I decided against it. There was no reason to raisesuspicion just yet, and once we came to the clearing, I soon realized Iwouldn't need it at all.
Finleyimmediately rushed toward the stone, smooth and spotless. “See?” he shouted,thrusting his pointer finger at its surface. “There'snothin'here!”
“Theraincouldaewashed it away, or—”
“Therewould besomethin'here. A fuckin'speck.But look at it! There'snothin'!”
Ireasoned with myself that his panic could have been an act. But if it was trulya theatrical display of paranoia and fear, then the man was working in thewrong field.
