Chapter 79

CHAPTER 79

HOLMES PACED BACK and forth near the carnage on the bridge. The adrenaline had mostly drained from his system, but his mind was burning with anger and guilt. He knew Marple was right. They could have handled the situation with more finesse. But the sight of that dead infant had fired him—and Poe—up so much he doubted anything could have stopped them.

Holmes was actually surprised that he and Poe weren’t under arrest for obstructing a police chase, or worse. Maybe because the cops on the scene were too busy picking truck parts off the roadway and redirecting a mile-long backup of drivers.

The late Bill Barnes had already been loaded into an ambulance and carted off to a local morgue. Now the wrecker was pulling the heavy truck upright for a tow to the police garage.

Poe was on the far side of the Charger, running his hand over the hood and fender panels. Amazingly, there didn’t appear to be a scratch anywhere, just a few streaks of fire-retardant foam.

Holmes felt his phone buzz. He hoped it was Margaret.

It was Virginia.

Holmes put the phone on speaker as Poe came around the front of the Charger. “Virginia! Are you at the office?” The hour was early, even for her.

“No, I’m not,” came the reply. “I’m at SmallTime. Oliver Paul’s watch shop.”

“Hold on!” said Holmes, his adrenaline spiking again. “Is Paul there?”

“No,” said Virginia. “I’m alone.”

“Who let you in?”

“Nobody,” said Virginia. “I broke in all by myself. You need to come right now!”