“Like what?”
They were nearly back at Charlie’s house, where Falk could sense the conversation would end. Shane hadn’t remembered what Falk had hoped he would, which was perhaps useful in one way, but less useful in another. He’d have to ask.
“Was there broken glass on the ground?”
“Broken glass?” Shane’s face was still. “I’m not sure.”
“No rush, mate. Just think for a minute.” Falk waited, but no answer came. “Can’t say either way?”
“No.” Shane frowned. “Why? Is it important?”
Falk shook his head. “I don’t know.”
29
Marralee Valley’s police station was nestled in the heart of the town. Falk had been there only once before, a year earlier, when he’d been invited in to give his statement the day after Kim’s disappearance.
He parked now in the afternoon sun and went inside. The reception area was dim, painted the same dull industrial blue that he remembered finding a little oppressive last time. Falk had been kept waiting for a while that day and could remember sitting there, silently running through what he’d seen at the festival, while wondering vaguely if the color was a deliberate choice to make visitors feel immediately institutionalized.
Possibly, he’d decided, last year. Probably, he felt certain now, having since met and spent a little time with Sergeant Dwyer. Institutionalized people tended to be more cooperative, and these walls looked like they’d been recoated in the past few years. Dwyer was the type to insist that even the décor pull its weight, Falk thought as he went up to the reception desk and asked for the sergeant.
Out, came the reply. Due back shortly.
Falk left his name and a brief message, then pushed through the doors and back outside into the daylight. At the bottom of the steps hepaused and pulled out his phone to call Gemma. He took a moment to enjoy the novelty of having her number right there, and felt a warm rush of exhilaration as she answered.
“Hey,” he said. “Are we still on for later?”
“Yes.” He could hear that she was smiling. “I’ve got cover for around two hours. What do you want to do?”
“I’ll have a think,” he said, and so he did, standing outside the police station in the sun, watching the locals pass by on their daily business. After a few minutes, he straightened and joined the flow of foot traffic on the pavement, heading deeper into town in search of a few things.
Dwyer was back by the time he returned. Falk was loading his shopping bags into his car when he spotted the officer climbing the steps to the station. He slammed the trunk and followed him in.
“Here to see me?” Dwyer said when he noticed Falk behind him. He didn’t look too surprised. He unlocked a security door and motioned for Falk to follow. “Come through.”
Dwyer’s office was painted the same industrial blue as the reception area, but in here it felt calm and, if not quite tranquil, then orderly. The space was tidy and highly functional, with neatly labeled filing cabinets squared away against the far wall and a window overlooking the main street. Falk took the visitor’s seat across from Dwyer. Like the rest of the room, his desk was clean and as sparse as it was possible for a sergeant’s desk to be. It held the only personal items Falk could see—a washed coffee mug and a framed photo of Dwyer, his wife, and his daughter. They had their arms around each other and were smiling, but Falk could tell from the girl’s age that the photo must have been taken years before she died. Caitlin Dwyer was still a child in the happy moment her father had chosen to remember.
“The Racos’ christening went well, I hear,” Dwyer said, his eyes following Falk’s to the photo.
“It did, thanks.”
“Good. I was hoping to stop in, but I was on duty. Got tied up with something.”
His voice was neutral, but something in it made Falk look up. “Anything new from Kim’s appeal?”
Dwyer didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no, either. Finally, he leaned back in his chair. “So, what can I do for you?”
“Right, yeah. I actually wanted to ask you about this.” Falk took out his phone and flicked through to find the video of the accident Joel had shared with him two days earlier. He held it out, and Dwyer put on his glasses and leaned forward to see better. “Joel sent it to me—”
“Joel did?” Dwyer stared at the screen for a long moment, then frowned. He sat back in his chair. “Sorry, I assumed this was something about Kim.”
“No,” Falk said. “Dean Tozer.”
Dwyer blinked, catching up, then leaned in again. “Go on.”
“Joel said you knew he had this video?”
“Yeah. I did. I just haven’t seen it in a while.”
