Sleight Malice Read Online Free Page B

answers to all your questions we can’t. We just
don’t have them yet. No hidden agenda; it’s as simple as that.”
    Fergus grunted.
    The detective’s
pale-blue eyes narrowed. “As you know,” she said, her voice tightening, “it
takes time to analyze evidence, talk to witnesses, follow-up leads and the
like. Granted, the sooner we can do that the better, but at this stage, there
is little in the way of facts I can tell you.”
    Desley sat
forward on her chair. “What can you tell me?” So far, all they had done was
talk in circles, and as much as Fergus probably thought he was helping, he
wasn’t. She had yet to learn anything new.
    “Okay, from
what you told us today and our officers last night, your friend Laura left here
to go home somewhere around 10 p.m. Correct?”
    What did she
have to do? Engrave it in stone? She had lost count of the number of times she
had been asked the same question. Were they expecting her to change her story,
hoping to catch her out? Maybe the timing didn’t sit neatly with their
perceived timeline of events. Who knew? She sighed. “Yes.”
    “As far as you
were aware, where was her de facto, Ryan Moore?”
    “Sydney,” she
said, for what felt like the tenth time in as many hours. “Just how many times
do we have to go through this? Why don’t you ask the man himself?”
    The detective
glanced at Desley and then back at her notes. “The fire investigator tells us
that the fire had been burning inside the house for quite some time when the
next-door neighbor called triple-O at 2.17 this morning. Burn patterns and
residual accelerant traces point to arson. Remains of an unidentified male
found in what was probably the master bedroom. Cause of death yet to be
ascertained. That’s it,” she said, closing her notepad.
    “You don’t
really expect me to believe that that’s all you have, do you? There has to be
more.”
    “Anything else
I told you would be mere speculation. Desley, I can understand your
frustration, but rest assured we want to find your friends as much as you do.
At 4 p.m. today, there’s going to be a press conference. Not only will we be
disclosing the details I just told you, but also photos of both Laura and Ryan
will be released and we’ll be appealing for anyone with any information to come
forward.”
    Fergus opened
his mouth to say something, but Desley silenced him with a raised hand. “Tell
me; were there two cars in the garage? You must know that.”
    DS Mitchell
gave her a half-smile. “See, that’s where you come in and why we need you to
answer our questions. If we can recreate the events leading up to the fire and
the disappearance of your friends, we stand a good chance of solving this case
quickly. Who better to help us with that, than someone close to the couple.”
She shuffled in her seat. “And in answer to your question: the only car in the
garage, or at least what was left of it, was a silver Honda Civic registered in
Laura’s name.”
    “Oh my God, if
Laura didn’t drive herself away, who did? Have you checked the airport car
parks?” Desley asked, it suddenly striking her that instead of catching a taxi,
Ryan might have driven to the airport. “If Ryan’s flight hasn’t landed yet, his
four-wheel-drive is probably there.”
    “We haven’t
checked the airport, but Ryan’s flight landed at 10:15 p.m. last night.”
    “No, you must
be mistaken. Laura was really looking forward to seeing him again. She would’ve
said something if he was coming home early. She certainly wouldn’t have sat
around here drinking wine.” It didn’t make sense, but nor did anything else
that had happened in the last twelve hours.
    “Unless of
course,” Fergus interjected, voicing Desley’s thoughts, “he wanted to surprise
his wife and managed to get a standby seat.”
    “We checked
that. He didn’t fly standby,” DS Mitchell said, shaking her head. “The 20:45 flight
from Sydney was his original booking. No seats were booked for