“Hey,Brodie,” Sharp said, and I turned from the blank screen to look at him. “Idinnaethink I've ever asked. Do ye have any wee ones ofyerown?”
“No,”I answered gruffly.
“Butye were married?”
Maggiegroaned, as she thankfully began to walk away. “Not every married couple haschildren, ye eejit.”
“Jesus,it was just a question,” he muttered, then shrugged. “Have a good day, Brodie.I'm off to walk the streets.”
Isent him off with a grateful goodbye and powered the computer on, as Finleysighed. I braced myself to be roped into more conversation, and sure enough, heleaned forwardin an attempt tocome closer.
“Brodie,do ye got a minute?”
“Notreally.”
“It'lljust be a minute, man,” he begged. “Iwannatalk toye.”
Knowingexactly what he wanted to talk about, I threw a quick glance around theemptying room, then leaned closer to him. “Iwillnaetalk about this here,” I hissed. “And ye kenwhy.”
“Then,we'll just step out—” The Chief Inspector wandered by, crossing the room.Finley followed him with a watchful stare, and then, once Frasier was behindhis office door, Finley continued, “We'll just step outside for a minute. Iwannatell ye what I found about Madison—”
“Let'sgo,” I said, standing and walking to the door without another word.
IfFinley had already done the legwork, I could at least be grateful for it andlisten to what he had to say.
***
“Ifoundnothin'.”
Afew minutes down the road from the office, Finley and I sat in my parked car,in a deserted lot, without any radio to fill the now dead air.
Aftera moment of silent disbelief, I turned to him and asked, “Nothin'?Ye foundnothin' on Madison Lang?”
Heshook his head, raking a hand through his cropped hair. “Nothin'in the files, anyway. I did manage to come across a newspaper article about herbodybein' found, but it was only a brief mention.”
“Itdoesnaemake any sense,” I muttered, turning to lookout across the lot and toward a cluster of trees. “How is therenothin' about her in the database?”
“Iguess, since it was deemed an accident, itmustaebeen deleted from the files orsomethin'.”
Isnorted, shaking my head. “Ye can find shite from thirty years ago in thefiles. Itdoesnaemake any sense for them to get ridof one from three years ago.”
“Idunnoabout thirty years—”
“Ido,” I interjected, turning to face him with narrowed eyes and grittedteeth.
Finleyseemed to study my face. Picking me apart with soft, curious eyes and aloosened jaw. He didn't bother to say anything for a few minutes, but he didn'tneed to. I knew the questions that burned to be asked, but I wouldn't beanswering any of them, so I didn't give him a chance to speak.
“Therewas a file for Madison Lang,” I said definitively. “But someone deleted it,just like someone will delete the file for Grace Allan. And whoever did it, isthe person we'relookin' for.”
Finleystared out the window for a moment before nodding a little too flippantly formy liking. “Right,” he muttered, keeping his eyes on the sun, high in themidday sky. “We better get back before someone questions where we've gone.”
Ipulled out of the lot and turned the radio up, to sing along with Elvis's“Jailhouse Rock,” while I noted Finley's sudden reluctance to speak. His elbowwas planted firmly to the window ledge and one finger was curved around hisupper lip, as he stared out the window at the passing trees and road signs. Hewas unmoving, spine rigid, but I couldn't ignore the rapid bob of his throatand the quickened rise and fall of his chest.
Whenwe returned to the station and I parked the car, Finley hesitated beforeopening his door. I waited as a ball of dread tightened in my stomach, souringthe bad coffee from the morning, but thankfully, he didn't make me wait forlong.
“We'llfigure this out,” he said, his tone dry. “Buty’know,we should meet for a drink soon. It's been a while.”
Ididn't answer right away. This wasn't exactly the time to throw out invitationsor requests to socialize, and now, it hung in the air with a half dozenquestions attached to it. Where it came from, I couldn't say, but just as mysuspicion toward Finley had begun to fade, it came back with a vengeance withthat one little mention of a drink.
