An End to a Silence: A mystery novel (The Montana Trilogy Book 1) Read Free Page B

sir.
    Ward had
asked who had been in the room since the old man’s death and Grainger had told
him that the room had been cleaned and gave Ward the name of the cleaner. Said
that he couldn’t account for everybody who might have been in the room as it
had not been locked. Ward had then asked him how drugs in the facility were
secured and Grainger had told him that the pharmacy was secured by lock and key
and that the on-call doctor and residential nurses had access to the key, which
was locked up in the safe, for which he, Grainger, held the key. Yes, sir.
    He had
then asked Grainger to organize a full inventory of the pharmacy, make sure
nothing was missing. With particular attention to morphine. He would do that of
course, yes, sir. Ward had dismissed Grainger with a thank you and had told him
that there might be more questions later. Grainger had answered with a yes,
sir.
     

9
    It was a
dark evening. Ward swung into the parking lot of the station, a modern building
with plenty enough glass and a bit of steel girder and dark wood siding. He
parked the car and turned off the engine and the rock music but didn’t remove
his seat belt. He stared straight ahead. He was still there when McNeely pulled
in beside him a couple of minutes later. McNeely got out of her car and came
over to him, tapped on his window. He wound it down.
    “Welcome
to Montana,” she said.
    Ward
popped the belt. “Let’s check this in. I’ll update the lieutenant. See if you
can find out what happened to the victim’s possessions.”
     
     
    Newton
was sitting at his desk. He faced his box of possessions, chewing at his thumb,
occasionally examining it for intact skin to bite.
    Ward
dropped his hat on the desk next to Newton.
    “I’ll
move my things,” Newton said.
    “No,
stay. I’m fine over here.”
    Newton
looked way past retirement, his gray pallor underscoring the gloom of the day.
He spoke without looking at Ward. “He did it.” He glanced a hand across his
thinning hair.
    “I’m
sorry?”
    “Been twenty-five
years sorry.”
    “We lose
sometimes.”
    Newton’s
head cranked up to face Ward. “I worked the Ryan Novak disappearance for
months. Still working it in my head. Something like that stays with you.”
    “We all
have the ones that we don’t solve.”
    “The nature
of the job, son, I know, but this.”
    “You want
to talk about it?”
    “Aw shit,
I don’t know.”
    “Okay,”
Ward said, and gave Newton room to continue.
    “It takes
something away from you. It’s not the failure. Stats don’t count shit when it
comes to the disappearance of a child. That’s something that you’re measured
against differently and not by the department. By others. You front a failure
like this in a small town like ours and you’re the guy who didn’t protect one
of their children. You know how that goes down? You know what that does to you?
I couldn’t walk the streets without someone looking over at me and thinking,
‘There goes the cop who let that bastard get away.’ I still get that to this
day. I sense it. The truth, son, that’s all I need to know.” He stopped. Ward
saw the man of twenty-five years ago, scratching around for answers that
disappeared around corners and into the darkness of dead ends.
    “I hear
you,” Ward offered. He stood there looking at the old man who was shrinking
before his eyes.
    “Anyway,
it’s your case. I’ll keep out of your way.”
    “Okay.”
    Ward took
a step backwards and as he did he crashed into a uniformed officer, who fended
Ward off like a defensive lineman.
    “Watch
where you’re going,” said the officer, a half smile, half grimace on his face. Teeth too big for his mouth and too white.
    Ward’s
anger swelled but he didn’t allow it to overflow from his puffed-out chest.
“I’m sorry,” he said as his fists clenched and he bit his bottom lip. “Ward.”
He unclenched his fist and offered his open hand. The officer didn’t take it.
    “No
problem. Officer