Shanahan never batted an eye. “Good call. Stay frosty, kid. ”
Christ, he thought, which bad cop movie did you crib that from?
“Absolutely,” he said with a grin that showed a lot of teeth. He set off to the left, moving at an angle that was almost certain to intercept the line of footprints he saw. He cut a look to see Shanahan trundling down the slope toward a minor footnote in his after action report. When he reacquired the footprints he smiled.
He bent to study them. Man’s shoe, probably size nine or ten. Ground was soft but the impressions weren’t deep. Diviny knew that Doc Hartnup was five nine and slender. Maybe one sixty-five. A perfect fit.
The line of flight was erratic. A drunk would walk like that, or someone badly hurt. Maybe delirious with shock. That also fit.
He thought about what he had overheard back at the mortuary. JT Hammond and Desdemona Fox had reputations as cops better suited to more challenging departments, and both had a bunch of commendations. Granted, Dez Fox had also racked up as many reprimands as honors. Use of foul language on the job. Destruction of public property and excessive force—she allegedly threw a wife-beating town selectman through the front window of the county assessor’s office. Rumors of a couple of off-the-clock DUIs she was allowed to skate on because a lot of the local cops either liked her or wanted to get into her pants.
Diviny could appreciate that. Dez Fox was an überhottie. Built like Scarlett Johansson, with ice blue eyes, bee-stung lips, and a natural blonde if the rumors were true. If she hadn’t had a personality that one mutual friend had described as “Genghis Khan with boobs,” Diviny might even have considered asking her out. But her reputation might leave a stain on his record. No way, José.
He stopped. The ground was scuffed and he shone his light to read the scene. A confusion of footprints, palm prints, and knee-shaped dents. Doc Hartnup had clearly fallen down here. Diviny edged around the scene, careful to steer well clear of every trace of evidence. Then he paused. The footprints leading off from where the victim had fallen were no longer heading in the same direction. Instead of an erratic but straight line to the northeast, they curved around a thick tangle of wild rhododendron. That path would take Hartnup down toward Shanahan.
“Shit,” Diviny said, and began moving fast. He had to head off the Doc before Shanahan saw him, otherwise he’d have to split the save.
He broke into a light jog, following a trail that he barely needed a flashlight to see. He kept his head down, body bent at the waist, and he was smiling in anticipation when he rounded a thick tree and ran headfirst into a silent figure.
Diviny rebounded from the impact and looked up, smiling in instant embarrassment and surprise.
The smile died on his face.
“Doc?”
Doc Hartnup’s face was covered in blood. His eyes were dark and dead, his features slack. Except for his mouth, which opened wide as he lunged at the officer.
There was a wet crunch as white teeth closed around Officer Diviny?
??s windpipe, and then a hydrostatic hiss as bright blood shot with fire-hose force into the air, splattering the grasping arms of the surrounding trees.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
HARTNUP’S TRANSITION ESTATE
Dez, JT, and Chief Goss stared at the name on the clipboard for a shocked three seconds, and then they all turned and began hustling back through the field toward the mortuary building.
“How the hell did the body of a sick psycho like Homer Gibbon wind up here?” Dez grumbled as she racewalked along beside Goss. “Did you know about this, Chief?”
Goss’s eyes shifted toward her and then away. “It was arranged last minute. ”
“And you didn’t think that responding officers might need to know about it?”
“Keep your voice down,” Goss snapped, his face coloring. “Why should I have told you or anyone about this? He’s a stiff in a bag, and he’s scheduled to go into the ground tomorrow. Besides, there was a court order forbidding anyone involved in the transfer from talking about it. ”
“Why?” Dez demanded.
Goss hedged, clearly uncertain whether the gag order was still in force under the circumstances. He walked several fast paces before he replied. “Okay, okay … Gibbon had a relative in town and she petitioned the court to be able to claim his remains and bury them on family property. ”
“Wait,” said JT, holding up a hand, “Gibbon was from here?”
“No, but his aunt lives here. Selma Conroy. ”
JT looked at him. “Sexy Selma?”
“Who’s ‘Sexy Selma?’” asked Dez.
“Way before your time,” said JT. “When I was still a rookie, Selma Conroy ran a hot-pillow joint on Route 381 for years. We busted the place a dozen times, though somehow Selma always skated. No major convictions. She retired years ago. ”