An End to a Silence: A mystery novel (The Montana Trilogy Book 1) by W.H. Clark Page A

won’t be in the DNA one. From the second scene we have even less.”
    Ward
said, “Okay. We’ll leave the second scene for now. Statements? How we doing
with those?” He directed that at Poynter, who leaned on the dividing screen
that backed against McNeely’s desk. Ward wondered if that was his favorite
position in the whole world.
    “Everything
we got is in the file on your desk, sir,” said Poynter, standing up straight
just long enough to say it before returning to his perch.
    “Okay,
I’ll go through those. Let’s keep looking. There has to be something we haven’t
found yet. I know it looks like we haven’t got a whole lot but now might be
time to throw all this in the air and see where it lands. Go back over the
evidence. See if there’s something we’ve missed. Look again at the crime scene
photos. Try to think if there’s anybody else we need to talk to. If we need to
ask more questions we go ask them. Somebody out there knows something.”
     
     
    Ward’s
desk was like his motel room. Stuff still in boxes and arranged neatly, apart
from the file containing statements that Poynter had put there. He had barely
sat down at his desk since his arrival at the station. Never liked sitting at
desks. He figured detective work was best done on foot and not in front of a
computer screen. He was tucked into the corner of the open-plan office with a
short screen offering minimal privacy. It was department policy. Suggesting
openness and accountability. Ward was okay with that as he didn’t intend to
spend more time than he needed to there. He remained standing as he opened the
file of statements.
    A half
hour later he looked at his watch. And he decided Cherry couldn’t be put off.
He grabbed his Stetson and coat and made for the door. As he did, Mallory was
standing by the water cooler and he stepped in front of Ward   and
faced up to him.
    “I hear
you cowboys are   all
fags,” Mallory said through teeth as big, white and gapped as a well-tended picket
fence.
    Ward
wasn’t expecting Mallory to be such an outwardly stupid dick as to insult a
more senior colleague but he guessed that he had gotten away with being a dick
for such a long time that it was accepted around these parts. Mallory was a big
man. Tall and well built. But Ward confidently knew that he could drop him with
one punch. But he just paused and sighed, looking at Mallory with doe eyes.
    “You got
nice lips,” Ward said, and Mallory stepped back, his lips suddenly pursing and
covering up his dazzling teeth until the lips seemed to disappear altogether.
He let Ward pass and made a little sound of disgust from the back of his
throat. “Catch you later,” Ward said.
    McNeely
had seen the exchange from where she sat eating a salad from a plastic container,
and she smiled. Mallory saw her and he stared at her for a couple of seconds
then turned and walked.
    “Asshole,”
McNeely said through a mouth full of leaves.

33
    The Honey
Pie was open for business and Ward felt relieved. But that relief was short-lived
as Cherry wasn’t there. The girl working was someone called Sally who had been
called in to cover Cherry’s shift.
    “I need
her phone numbers, cell and home,” Ward said, and Sally eyed him with suspicion
until he produced his badge.
    “She’s
okay, right?” said Sally, as she wrote down the numbers on her pad and tore
them off.
    “Everything’s
fine, ma’am,” Ward said. “I just need to talk to her.” And he left the diner
and called the cell number. Cherry answered after four rings.
    “It’s me.
Ward,” he said, trying not to show too much concern. “How you doing? I just
went to the diner and you weren’t there.”
    “I’m
fine, detective,” Cherry said, and Ward knew she wasn’t. Something in her
voice. She sounded like she had a mouthful of food but didn’t sound like she
was chewing. “Why’d you want to see me?”
    “You sure
you’re okay?”
    “I said
I’m fine.”
    “Okay,”
Ward said.