Page 19 of Line of Sight
His fingers flew over the keys. “Checking on train times from Penn to Boston. He might have gotten an early train.”
“No, he couldn’t have done that. The first trains from NYC don’t get into Boston until after nine, and Scott was already dead by then.”
Dan listened to the tapping of keys. “So what areyousearching for?”
“Not searching—I’ve found it.” Rock music filled the air.
He frowned. “Isn’t that Led Zeppelin?”
“Uh-uh. Robert Plant singing ‘For What It’s Worth.’” Gary peered at the screen. “Well crap.”
Dan got up and wandered over to Gary’s desk. “Let me guess. You just spotted Greg Collins in the audience.”
“Yeah.” Gary hit pause and pointed at the image frozen on the screen. “I know it’s been a couple of decades, but thatishim, isn’t it?”
Dan leaned in. “Yeah. He wouldn’t have lied about that. It’s too easy to check up on it. So I guess he couldn’t have killed Scott.” He pulled a face. “So much for my instincts. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to look at the whole ‘being in two places at once’angle?”
“I hate to break it to you, but it also means none of the others on that list could’ve committed the murder either. Great. The first case we investigate and none of our suspects were even in the state. Well, possibly.”
Dan nodded. “The only one we know for certain about is Greg.” He perched on the edge of Gary’s desk. “You know what interests me?”
“No, but I’m certain you’re about to tell me.”
“Why Greg Collins lied to us.”
Gary stilled. “Which particular lie are you referring to?”
“When I asked him who got them the tickets. Think about it. He can recall the names of the people with him but not the name of the generous individual who provided the tickets? I don’t buy that for a second. Because I think the concert is his alibi. And if I’m right, you’d think he’d come up with a better answer than ‘I don’t remember how we got the tickets.’” Dan folded his arms. “Thereisone reason why he might have withheld the name, of course.”
Gary smiled. “He didn’t want us to know about the mystery benefactor.”
Dan nodded. “Which makes me even more interested to find out his—or her—identity.”
Someone who was trying very hard to stay out of Dan’s line of sight.
Chapter Ten
Friday, January 13, 1995
THANK GODScott McCarthy was a creature of habit.
Today he’d chosen the Newton & Chestnut Hill circuit, joining it at the intersection of Hammond Street and Beacon Street a short distance from his home, like he always did. The trail headed west toward Newton, skirted the northern end of Crystal Lake, then headed north up Walnut Street to join Commonwealth Avenue, going east to circle the Chestnut Hill reservation before heading west along Beacon Street once more, a distance of almost eight miles.
Scott generally took about an hour and twenty minutes to complete the circuit. I’d watched him often enough to be sure of his timings. I’d even run it myself last November. I didn’t risk doing it more than once. I didn’t want the sight of me to become a common occurrence.
Not that I intended running today. What kind of fool went out in temperatures of below zero? Thank goodness I wouldn’t be out in the freezing cold for long. I knew exactly where I would cross Scott’s path. I’d parked my car on Commonwealth Avenue, the tubs of lye in the trunk, together with the ax safely hidden in an overnight bag. Then it was simply a case of joining the trail from the corner of Foster Street, making sure Scott was in sight.
And there he is.He was a slender man with runner’s thighs, toned and muscular, his legs encased in sweats, a hooded jacket clinging to his upper body. I watched his approach, silently counting the seconds until I could go into my act.
And…. Now.
I let out a yelp, falling to the ground and clutching my calf, feigning an injury. I knew my victim, however. Scott was the archetypal Good Samaritan, and there was no way he’d ignore me.
Sure enough, he rushed over to me and crouched down.
“Are you okay? Can I help?”
“I… I live in Reservoir Towers,” I gasped. “It’s not far. If you could help me to get to my apartment?”
