Exiles (Aaron Falk #3)(87)

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 he paused 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.”

Falk waited while he watched in silence. Dwyer’s face was set, flickering just once as he reached the footage of himself observing Gemma, deep in grief. When the video finished, Falk rewound a little and paused on the clearest scene. Neither Gemma nor Dwyer were in shot and the ground around the smashed barrier was clear and unobstructed.

“I wanted to ask—” Falk pointed. “Here. There doesn’t look to be any broken glass from the headlights.”

Dwyer peered in for a moment longer. “No.” He frowned. “That’s right. From memory, there wasn’t much at all.”

“No? What did you make of that?”

“Same as you, I’m guessing,” Dwyer said. “Driver attempted to clean it up.”

“Is that usual? In a situation like this?”

“Well, we don’t get many like this, luckily. But attempting to conceal evidence after a traffic accident?” The officer pushed his glasses up his nose and thought for a minute. “Yeah. It happens. Certain mindset. It’s usually harder, though, because most smashes are on roads. Nothing much to be done about glass on tarmac. Here, though—” He pointed to the spot on the screen where the edge of the ground dropped away. “Got somewhere to hide it.”

“So, what? They swept it into the water?”

“Yeah, wouldn’t take much. Push it with the side of your boot or something. We recovered some fragments, but there’s all sorts in that reservoir. Broken bottles, dumped rubbish. Got a few different results in, some not definitive at all. Hard to know what was useful and what was junk.” Dwyer glanced up. “And Joel’s been worrying about this, has he? Now?”

“The accident, yes. Not the glass.” Falk took his phone back and put it in his pocket. “Sounds like he didn’t know about that.”

“Maybe not. He was only, what? Twelve, then? And Gemma was pretty torn up, as you can imagine. I can’t remember if we talked about it specifically or not. I would’ve tended to focus on any positive info. Which wasn’t much, unfortunately.” Dwyer rubbed a hand over his clean-shaven chin. “Joel all right, is he? Or struggling?”

“Bit of both, I think,” Falk said. “Depends how you catch him.”