The Driver - John Milton #3 (John Milton Series) by Dawson Mark

Author:Dawson, Mark [Dawson, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unputdownable
Published: 2014-01-04T00:00:00+00:00

23

M ilton drove them as near to Headlands Lookout as he could get. Trip was nervous, fidgeting next to him, almost as if he expected them to find something. The police had blocked the road a hundred yards from the parking lot, a broad cordon cutting from the rocky outcropping on the right all the way down to the edge of the cliff on the left. Half a dozen outside broadcast trucks had been allowed down to the lot, and they were crammed in together, satellite dishes angled in the same direction and their various antennae bristling. Milton slowed and pulled off the narrow road, cramming the Explorer up against the rock so that there was just enough space for cars to pass it to the left. The sky was a slate grey vault overhead, and rain was lashing against the windscreen, pummelling it on the back of a strong wind coming right off the Pacific. Visibility was decent despite the brutal weather, and as Milton disembarked, he gazed out to the south, all the way to the city on the other side of the bay.

They made their way through the cordon and down to the parking lot. There were several dozen people there already, arranged in an untidy scrum before a man who was standing on a raised slope where the cameras could all get a decent view of him. Milton recognised him. It was Commissioner William Reagan, the head of the local police. He was an old man, close to retirement, his careworn face chiselled by years of stress and disappointment. The wind tousled his short shock of white hair. He pulled his long cloak around him, the icy rain driven across the bleak scene. An officer was holding an umbrella for him, but it wasn’t giving him much shelter; he wiped moisture from his face with the back of his hand.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said into the upheld microphones, “before I get into my remarks, let me identify those who are here with me. I got Chief of Detectives Stewart Webster—everyone knows the chief—and I got Inspector Richard Cotton.” He cleared his throat and pulled out a sheet of paper. “As you know, we’ve found two bodies along this stretch of the headland. I wish we hadn’t, but that’s the sad fact of it. It appears that they were taken down from the road into the foliage and hidden there so that they wouldn’t be seen. We’re assuming they were dumped here by the same person or persons.”

A brusque man from cable news shouted loudest as he paused for breath. “You identified them yet?”

“No,” Reagan said. “Not yet.”

“So you’re saying you’ve got a serial killer dumping victims along this stretch of land?”

“It would be a big coincidence if it was two separate people.”

“You expect to find anyone else?”

“That’s impossible to say. But we’re looking.”

“So are you, or are you not, looking at it being the same guy?”

“Well, you know, I’m not gonna say that, but certainly, we’re looking at that.

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