Ella went silent and ruminated on Blackwood’s comments – or excuses.It made sense, in a strange way.He wasn’t the first suspect who’d bolted as soon as the police showed up on his doorstep.If Blackwood was telling the truth, and that was a big honkingif, then he wasn't so much a mastermind as he was a moron.
But a moron with motive, and opportunity, and a healthy dose of sheer dumb luck.
But something still didn't sit right.That niggling sense of wrongness, of a picture that wasn't quite in focus.Because Roger Blackwood might be a creep, and a letch, and a few fries short of a Happy Meal.But was he really cold-blooded enough to orchestrate the kind of carnage they'd seen?To gut Sophie Draper like a trout and string Martina Payne up like a macabre marionette?
Ella opened up her casefile on the table and pulled out a picture of Sophie Draper in full angel form.She spun it around to show Blackwood.
‘Recognize her?’
Blackwood glanced at it, winced, then turned his head away.‘Good Lord, what is that?’
‘It’s an angel.Or a fallen angel.’
‘That’s not an angel, detective.That’s sacrilegious.’
‘Maybe.You don’t know the woman in this photo?’
Blackwood shot another cautionary look at the photo, narrowed his eyes then shook his head.‘I do not.Sorry.’
Ella didn’t see a whole lot of guilt or remorse in his body language, but anyone capable of killing two women would be sorely lacking in both.
Blackwood continued, ‘I know how this looks.I know I'm not exactly winning any prizes for congeniality right now.But I swear to you, on everything I hold dear...I didn't kill anyone.I'm not the man you're looking for.’
Ella had stared into the eyes of evil before, and what she saw in Blackwood's gaze was more weasel than wolf.
But the facts remained.He had a history with Martina, and he'd hauled ass during initial questioning.Maybe he wasn't the mastermind, but he knew something.And she'd be damned if she let him wriggle off this hook until she had the truth.
Before Ella could launch her next salvo, the door banged open and Ripley stuck her head in.
‘Dark.A word?’
Ella shot Blackwood a look that said ‘don't go anywhere’ and stepped out into the hall.Ripley was standing beside their new friend Ryland, who looked like a fish out of water.
‘This better be good.I was about to put the screws to that guy.’
‘I found something,’ Ryland said, full of nervous energy.‘Something you need to see.’
‘Is it good or bad?’
‘On the dark web, I found a… picture.’
Ella’s heart rate doubled.‘What picture?’
‘A picture of… Drago LaChance.’Ryland looked through the one-way glass at Roger Blackwood.‘And it’s nothing like that guy in there.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
Day three.Angel number three.The third day of the rest of his new life.
Main Street, just before midday.A warren of storefronts and sidewalks under the indifferent sun.Cain stood in the shade of a doorway with one hand jammed in his pocket, another thumbing the screen of a cell phone like he was just another face in the crowd.Maybe he was meeting someone, maybe he was waiting for a cab.No one could prove otherwise.
Today was different, because for this angel he was stepping out of the darkness and into the light.Daylight.Witnesses.A constant ebb and flow of potential interruptions.It was madness, really.But necessity bred innovation, and Cain was nothing if not adaptable.
It had barely been twelve hours since he’d slashed that dumb woman’s throat and turned her into an angel-in-flight.The adrenaline was still coursing, and he was going to ride that wave until this whole damn mission was complete.
He’d been watching his destination for almost thirty minutes now, and only one person had entered since he’d taken up his vigil.Just one.That little fact put his mind at ease, because it meant there’d be ample opportunity to slip inside and be alone with his target.
Cain's fingers twitched, itching to set his plan in motion.But patience was key.Rush this, and everything he'd worked for would crumble like a house of cards in a hurricane.
