Chapter 63
quinn
‘They’ve found a body,’ Quinn says.
Phil shakes his dick twice and then tucks it back in his pants. ‘They call this the men’s room for a reason,’ he says.
‘Meet me in the lobby,’ Quinn says. ‘And wash your bloody hands!’
She paces back and forth in front of the reception desk as she waits for Phil to get his camera, staring balefully at the miserable weather.
It’s pissing with rain, and the wind is quickly stripping the glorious fall foliage from the trees.
The body the cops have found is halfway up a fucking mountain, reachable only on foot.
Of course it is.
‘What do we know?’ Phil asks, as they dash out into the pelting rain. ‘Any ID yet?’
‘Not officially. All they’re saying is male, eighteen to forty-five, and it looks like it’s been there at least a year. But according to my source, they found Luke Connelly’s wallet and driver’s licence on the body.’
‘It’s gotta be him.’
‘I’m thinking.’
‘Where’d they find him?’
‘About three hundred metres from where Rose took us last week,’ Quinn says, as Phil pulls out onto the main road. ‘The body was in a natural gully way off the trail. It’s no wonder he wasn’t found before. If we hadn’t called in that ID tag, no one would even have looked up there.’
‘Poor bastard,’ Phil says.
‘It’s his father I feel sorry for. Bret’s been telling them Luke’s missing for more than a year, and they didn’t take it seriously until we started asking questions.’
‘Well, now there’s a body, they’ve got no choice,’ Phil says. ‘Even Colt can’t talk his way out of this.’
Quinn taps her packet of Gauloises against her knee. ‘I don’t think Colt’s the killer,’ she says. ‘He’s not the sort to get his hands dirty. My money’s on Nicky Gray.’
‘The kid?’
‘I’m not sure I buy that story he told Rose,’ Quinn says. ‘Maybe Nicky really did see someone with the body, or maybe he was “asking for a friend”.’
‘What’s the motive, though?’
‘Who knows? Colt’s his grandfather. Maybe blood’s thicker than water. Or maybe it was some sort of accident. Either way, I’m damn sure Colt knows more than he’s letting on. Fuck, Phil!’ she yells, as a truck pulls out in front of them. ‘Watch the fucking road!’
Phil slams on the brakes. ‘Shit. Isn’t that Colt’s Land Cruiser?’
Quinn leans forward, trying to get a better look as the vehicle swings left at the next turn, heading towards the marina. ‘Looks like he’s going somewhere in a hurry.’
‘That was Jesse Spencer driving.’
‘You sure?’
‘Certain. Driver was younger, fairer hair.’
Quinn’s phone vibrates with an incoming text. She glances at it: Ollie Hardman, the news desk editor, wanting an URGENT – all caps! – update on Ashley Lincoln.
She silences her phone without replying.
They pass through Stowebury, following the same route they took with Rose, but at a slightly less suicidal pace.
‘Up there,’ Phil says, hunching over the steering wheel and pointing up through the windscreen. ‘That must be it.’
Quinn peers through the rain-slicked glass. Several police cruisers are visible about halfway up the mountain, their lights flashing.
Phil pulls onto the same dirt track as the previous week, which is now a brown river of rainwater cascading down the mountain. Deep runnels have formed in the rutted road, and the old Subaru bounces over them with such force the last remaining teeth in Quinn’s head rattle.
‘I’m not sure we’re gonna get much further,’ Phil says, as the car bottoms out on a steep curve with an ominous grinding noise.
The point is moot; just ahead of them, a police car is parked across the road, blocking their way.
Quinn winds down her window as an officer comes towards them, walking with the peculiar, full-nappy swagger unique to traffic cops the world over.
‘Road’s closed,’ he says.
Quinn produces her press pass. ‘Quinn Wilde, INN,’ she says. ‘I hear you guys have found Luke Connelly.’
‘Who told you that?’
Phil is already getting out of the car and shouldering his camera.
‘State cops missed him, I hear,’ Quinn says. ‘You guys handed them their asses. There’s gonna be some red faces over this.’
‘One of our young lads found him,’ the cop says, resting his forearm on the roof and leaning in. ‘Rookie, only been with us two months. Spotted his jacket from the side of the cliff. Kid’s got darn good eyesight, I’ll say that for him.’
In her side mirror, Quinn sees Phil circling up through the woods.
‘Gonna be one hell of a job getting the body out of that gully,’ she says.
The cop blinks the rain out of his face. ‘Ain’t that the truth.’
‘Reckon it’s foul play?’
‘Danged if I know.’ The cop drops his voice. ‘But there ain’t no hiking trails out there; I’ll tell you that. This wasn’t no accident. Even if you wandered off the trail, there’s plenty of warnings to turn back long ’fore you get to the cliff.’
‘Think he might have jumped?’
‘Who knows what gets in folks’ heads?’
‘Mind if I wander up a little way?’ Quinn asks. She makes a gesture that encompasses her eyepatch and useless arm. ‘Not gonna get far, but if I don’t check it out in person, I’ll catch hell from my boss.’
‘I hear you there,’ the cop says. He checks over his shoulder.
‘I’m not supposed to let anyone up this way.
But if you go back to that tree down yonder, the one hit by lightning, you see it?
There’s a deer path leads up to the bottom of the gully just behind it.
Reckon you might see what you need to from there. ’
‘I owe you.’
‘Stay safe, ma’am.’
Quinn gets out of the car and makes her way to the blackened pine tree. The rain’s blowing sideways now, and she skids on the gravel, cursing under her breath. She has to double back before finally spotting the overgrown path. You’d never find it if you didn’t know it was there.
The trail rises steeply up the mountain, and Quinn is soon panting with exertion. She’s never going to bitch about her fourth-storey walk-up again.
Phil suddenly appears in the woods about ten metres above her.
‘Get anything?’ she calls up to him.
‘Shots of the ME’s van,’ he says. ‘They’re sending forensics down now. Looks like they’ll have to abseil to the bottom of the gully.’
‘According to the local cop I just spoke to, there’s another way to get to it from here,’ Quinn says. ‘See if you can find a way down to this path and meet me.’
‘Wish it would stop bloody raining,’ Phil mutters, disappearing from view.
He reappears a few minutes later as she rounds a corner. ‘Your friend was right,’ he says, scrambling down a section of rock and dropping onto the path in front of her. ‘It’s pretty narrow up ahead, though. It’s gonna be tight.’
She follows him between two rocky overhangs. The narrow crevasse is dark, and she has to concentrate as she clambers over moss-covered boulders so she doesn’t slip. After a few feet, the gully tightens so much they have to turn sideways to squirm through it.
‘Fuck me,’ Phil says as his belt buckle scrapes against rock. ‘Glad I didn’t have that second sandwich for lunch.’
They emerge at the foot of a wall of rock about a dozen metres high. It’s not completely sheer: there are plenty of hand and foot holds, but Quinn can see why the ME and forensics crew didn’t come this way. The rocks are slick from the rain, and even Phil is struggling as they climb.
He suddenly stops and motions with the flat of his hand for her to stay where she is.
‘They’re right above us,’ he whispers. ‘I’m going to see if I can get a good shot from over there.’
He edges to the side of the cliff wall. Quinn pulls herself up as far as she dares. She can’t see much, but she can hear everything.
‘Over there, Wes,’ an officer calls. ‘Get some from that side, too.’
‘Not sure what we’re gonna find at this point. He’s been here a while. Looks like the coyotes been at him, too.’
‘Yeah, well. You heard what the chief said. By the book.’
Quinn hears the clink of metal against rock, a pant of exertion, the grim sound of a plastic zipper as a body bag is opened. The movements above her send a scattering of small stones skittering over the edge of the cliff, and she winces as one catches her on the temple.
‘Goddamn,’ Wes exclaims. ‘Would you look at this?’
‘Shit.’
Curiosity gets the better of her. Quinn risks raising her head above the cliff edge to see, but her view is obscured by a fallen tree.
‘You’d better get the chief down here,’ Wes says, his tone urgent. ‘He’s gonna want to see this for himself.’