The Killing Song by Lesley McEvoy

Author:Lesley McEvoy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bonnier Publishing Fiction

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Fordley police station – Friday morning

As I walked up the wide stone steps and through the double glass doors into the reception area of the station, my mind was already making the connections between Jacinta and Leo Fielding that I wanted to run past Callum.

I was so deep in thought, I almost bumped into two men coming the other way. An automatic apology died on my lips as I glanced up to see Neville Blackstone. Despite the early hour, he looked like he’d just stepped out of a board meeting – immaculately dressed in a sharp suit, crisp white shirt and silk tie.

‘Well, well, Doctor McCready, what an unexpected pleasure.’ The sardonic smirk made me want to wipe my knuckles across his teeth. He tilted his head. ‘You look tired . . . Stressful night?’

The rage that had simmered beneath the surface ever since I’d watched the images of the blaze bubbled up inside. The man beside him, put a hand on Blackstone’s elbow.

‘We need to go, Sir Neville.’

‘Judging by the images coming out of Fordley, looks like we both had an eventful night.’ I was surprised at how calm I sounded.

That thin smile didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I really don’t know what you mean.’ He nodded towards his companion. ‘My solicitor was with me all night. We had an excellent dinner, while discussing this morning’s interview. I really didn’t have time to concern myself with anything else.’

He made to leave and I side-stepped – blocking his path. ‘Hope and pray she isn’t dead, Blackstone,’ I said quietly, through clenched teeth.

He reached out to push me aside. ‘Get out of my way.’

Reflected light glinted at his wrist. I stared at the gold cuff-links for a split second as an image from last night crashed through my mind.

‘Nice.’ I tapped his wrist with my finger.

Blackstone pulled his hand away. ‘They belonged to Oliver.’ He almost spat the words in my face, tucking his cuff back beneath the sleeve of his jacket.

His solicitor was attempting to steer him towards the door. ‘Sir Neville . . . please . . .’

Blackstone angrily brushed him away, regaining his composure as he smoothed down his tie. ‘Personally, I hope De Benoit burned in the hell she deserved last night—’

White-hot fury streaked across my vision and I took a step towards him. I was rewarded by the shock flickering across his face as he stumbled back in an attempt to create space between us.

I don’t know what I intended – whether I intended anything – but my half-formed objective was halted as a broad chest suddenly got in my way. Like a predator fixed on its prey – my eyes looked past the obstruction. Glaring at Blackstone, I stepped to the side to move again, but annoyingly the chest moved with me, blocking the route. Frustrated, I looked up into penetrating blue eyes.

Callum frowned down at me. ‘A word, Jo – in my office.’

I was vaguely aware of the solicitor almost man-handling his client past us as Callum cupped my elbow in a firm grip and steered me towards the lift.

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