destroyed toaster, stereo or a hundred other everyday items.
He turned his back to the pit and surveyed the street.
‘What?’ Preston asked.
‘I’m not sure, but White deliberately looked into that camera back at the liquor store. It was like he knew someone would be watching. He needed to show what he had done.’
‘That could have been for us,’ Preston argued. ‘A little eff-you from a killer on the run.’
Hogan’s eyes locked on the garage of the house across the street. He walked towards it, the quiet residential road empty of traffic.
Preston joined him on the other side to stand on the sidewalk in front of a two-storey white house with brown trim.
He followed his partner’s gaze to see a three-headed security light attached to the peak of the double garage.
Hogan walked to the driveway, his movement activating the lights. Aimed unusually high, the lights shone across the road to flood the edge of the pit. But what intrigued Hogan the most was that only two of the lights appeared to be working.
‘You notice something odd about that middle light?’ Hogan asked.
‘Apart from it being burned out?’
‘Apart from that, yeah.’
Preston walked closer and looked up.
‘It doesn’t match the other two,’ he said. ‘In fact, I don’t think it’s a light. It looks like a lens. Security camera maybe?’
Hogan walked up the garden path to the front door of the house and rapped on it with his knuckles. A cutesy hand-carved nameplate on the door read:
Shepherd’s Flock
.
The door was answered by a redheaded man in his early fifties. He was still dressed for the office in striped shirt and tie.
Hogan showed his badge and the man’s face instantly took on a resigned look.
‘Is it the boy?’ he asked with a slight Scottish lilt. ‘What’s he done now?’
‘We’re here about the house across the street,’ Hogan said.
The man winced and his voice took on a concerned tone. ‘What a shame, eh? That poor family.’
‘Were you home when the house exploded?’ Preston asked.
‘Aye, I was still sleeping. Scared the crap out of me, I don’t mind sayin’.’
‘We were wondering if you still have the security footage?’ Hogan asked.
The man wrinkled his brow. ‘I don’t get you.’
‘Security footage from your camera?’ Hogan jabbed his thumb in the direction of the garage. ‘It’s aimed across the street.’
‘I don’t have a camera,’ he said. ‘Just the automatic lights there.’
‘Could you come and have a look?’ Hogan asked.
‘Aye, sure.’
The three men walked to the driveway and looked up at the lights. The owner scratched his head.
‘That’s odd. I don’t know what that middle one is. Can’t say I’ve ever clapped eyes on it before.’
Hogan frowned. ‘Do you mind if we take it with us?’
‘Not at all. Let me get a ladder and a spanner.’
The man disappeared into the house.
Preston looked at Hogan, his eyes pained.
‘What?’ Hogan asked.
‘Clapped eyes? Spanner? You have any idea what the frig he’s talking about?’
Hogan grinned. ‘I get the gist.’
38
After finishing his sandwich, Sam curled the waxed paper into a ball and tossed it towards a small wicker basket in the corner. It fell short and skidded across the carpet to rest under the table.
He picked up the phone. ‘I’d better call work. They’ll be expecting me to show at ten.’
It had just turned nine thirty.
After explaining to his boss that his house had been destroyed in a fire and his family was missing, Sam listened for a minute and hung up.
‘He said I can take a couple days, but I shouldn’t make a habit of it.’
‘Prick,’ Zack muttered.
‘Aren’t they all?’
‘I try not to be,’ Zack said.
‘You’re a manager? Of what?’
‘I’m a plastic surgeon, actually. I run . . .’ He paused. ‘I ran my own private practice in San Diego.’
‘Boob jobs and Botox?’
Zack shrugged. ‘Yeah, mostly cosmetic, but I also spent two days a week in the
He turned his back to the pit and surveyed the street.
‘What?’ Preston asked.
‘I’m not sure, but White deliberately looked into that camera back at the liquor store. It was like he knew someone would be watching. He needed to show what he had done.’
‘That could have been for us,’ Preston argued. ‘A little eff-you from a killer on the run.’
Hogan’s eyes locked on the garage of the house across the street. He walked towards it, the quiet residential road empty of traffic.
Preston joined him on the other side to stand on the sidewalk in front of a two-storey white house with brown trim.
He followed his partner’s gaze to see a three-headed security light attached to the peak of the double garage.
Hogan walked to the driveway, his movement activating the lights. Aimed unusually high, the lights shone across the road to flood the edge of the pit. But what intrigued Hogan the most was that only two of the lights appeared to be working.
‘You notice something odd about that middle light?’ Hogan asked.
‘Apart from it being burned out?’
‘Apart from that, yeah.’
Preston walked closer and looked up.
‘It doesn’t match the other two,’ he said. ‘In fact, I don’t think it’s a light. It looks like a lens. Security camera maybe?’
Hogan walked up the garden path to the front door of the house and rapped on it with his knuckles. A cutesy hand-carved nameplate on the door read:
Shepherd’s Flock
.
The door was answered by a redheaded man in his early fifties. He was still dressed for the office in striped shirt and tie.
Hogan showed his badge and the man’s face instantly took on a resigned look.
‘Is it the boy?’ he asked with a slight Scottish lilt. ‘What’s he done now?’
‘We’re here about the house across the street,’ Hogan said.
The man winced and his voice took on a concerned tone. ‘What a shame, eh? That poor family.’
‘Were you home when the house exploded?’ Preston asked.
‘Aye, I was still sleeping. Scared the crap out of me, I don’t mind sayin’.’
‘We were wondering if you still have the security footage?’ Hogan asked.
The man wrinkled his brow. ‘I don’t get you.’
‘Security footage from your camera?’ Hogan jabbed his thumb in the direction of the garage. ‘It’s aimed across the street.’
‘I don’t have a camera,’ he said. ‘Just the automatic lights there.’
‘Could you come and have a look?’ Hogan asked.
‘Aye, sure.’
The three men walked to the driveway and looked up at the lights. The owner scratched his head.
‘That’s odd. I don’t know what that middle one is. Can’t say I’ve ever clapped eyes on it before.’
Hogan frowned. ‘Do you mind if we take it with us?’
‘Not at all. Let me get a ladder and a spanner.’
The man disappeared into the house.
Preston looked at Hogan, his eyes pained.
‘What?’ Hogan asked.
‘Clapped eyes? Spanner? You have any idea what the frig he’s talking about?’
Hogan grinned. ‘I get the gist.’
38
After finishing his sandwich, Sam curled the waxed paper into a ball and tossed it towards a small wicker basket in the corner. It fell short and skidded across the carpet to rest under the table.
He picked up the phone. ‘I’d better call work. They’ll be expecting me to show at ten.’
It had just turned nine thirty.
After explaining to his boss that his house had been destroyed in a fire and his family was missing, Sam listened for a minute and hung up.
‘He said I can take a couple days, but I shouldn’t make a habit of it.’
‘Prick,’ Zack muttered.
‘Aren’t they all?’
‘I try not to be,’ Zack said.
‘You’re a manager? Of what?’
‘I’m a plastic surgeon, actually. I run . . .’ He paused. ‘I ran my own private practice in San Diego.’
‘Boob jobs and Botox?’
Zack shrugged. ‘Yeah, mostly cosmetic, but I also spent two days a week in the
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