Tooth for a Tooth (Di Gilchrist 3)

obvious, hearing only what he wanted to hear and jumping to conclusions. Which at least meant that Geoffrey Pennycuick was still not ruled out. Not just yet. He was undecided if that pleased or disappointed him: pleased that he might bring down the King of Condescension himself; disappointed that Pennycuick might have shared intimate moments with his brother’s girlfriend.
    He tried to settle his thoughts by thinking ahead.
    Maybe he would find something in Kelly’s mother’s attic that would throw light on what had happened. He wanted to believe that. Without that, the case was toppling against him. And with those thoughts, he could almost feel the wheels of justice crushing his memories of Jack.

CHAPTER 21
     
    Morning arrived dark and wet.
    Before boarding the airport bus, Gilchrist dismantled his mobile phone, dropped the SIM card through the grating of a road drain and threw the phone case into a waste skip. Seated in the departure lounge, he half expected Tosh to come bounding along the corridor, brandishing a pair of handcuffs. But the flight was called sans Tosh, and he boarded without incident.
    Clearing customs at Newark was a different matter. The grilling he received over such a short visit had him wishing he had ticked the business box for the purpose of his trip. But he had worried that he might have needed a business visa to do so, and had not checked the requirements before leaving.
    Compared to Newark, Albany was a breeze. His luggage cleared the carousel in no time at all, and he was driving his rental car within thirty minutes of landing, paying for two days in cash.
    He drove north on the Thruway, surprised by how cold the landscape looked. Trees bared of leaves rolled over hills as grey as a jailer’s crew cut. Heavy clouds threatened snow. Summer could have been a forgotten season.
    He took exit 13N for Saratoga Springs, which brought him into the north end of town, close to Route 9 north to Wilton. He tried calling Kelly’s mother on his new mobile, but was connected to her voicemail and hung up. Checking into the Holiday Inn off Broadway, he booked the cheapest room they had.
    He unpacked, showered and confirmed that all his wounds were doing fine. Then he phoned Kelly’s mother again but was connected once more to her voicemail. He worried that she might have left town or arranged to meet someone, and cursed himself for not calling ahead. He checked his watch. Seven forty-three.
    Although night had fallen, he decided to try to locate her home.
    Route 9 north was a two-way highway that ran dead straight for a number of miles through the foothills of the Adirondacks. Commercial yards spilled off the road to his left and right, their lighted signs announcing landscaping supplies, RV trailers, swimming pools, kitchen cabinets made to order. As he travelled farther north, traffic thinned and the highway darkened to a long tunnel lit by his high-beams. The Wishing Well restaurant opened up on his left, its parking lot overflowing, its dull wooden structure brightened by windows that beckoned him inside for a drink and a meal.
    Then back to darkness and silent highway driving.
    He checked his MapQuest printout to confirm the house number. Driveway reflectors alerted him to nearing mailboxes glowing with luminescent numbers. House by house, he drove closer, slowing to a crawl as he neared. He caught a glimpse of Kelly’s home through a narrow stand of trees bordering a deep front yard. His high-beams brushed bushes on the opposite border as he made the turn, then fell along the driveway.
    The house sat well back from the road, at least a hundred yards. Windows glowed with light from within. He checked the time on the dashboard. Nearly nine. It had been only two days since he had first spoken to Kelly’s mother and it seemed surreal that, after all these years, here he was, pulling into the driveway to the home in which Kelly had been raised.
    He parked in front of a double garage that sat back from the house. Light flickered at the edge of the closest window. Kelly’s mother said she lived alone, and he worried that a strange car driving into her yard at that time of night might cause her concern. He flipped open his mobile and dialled her number. He got the busy signal, and wondered if she was on the phone after seeing his car.
    Three attempts later, she picked up.
    ‘Hello?’
    ‘Mrs Roberts?’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘This is Detective Chief Inspector Andy Gilchrist of Fife Constabulary,’ he