There Is More Light Than Dark

Chapter Thirty One

Wednesday August 10

Dean McCoy's exuberance was quickly tempered with the dead tone he received on calling Vincent Sampson's phone. Not only no answer, there was no phone anymore, or at least no SIM. He looked at the file he had compiled a month ago and closed his eyes.

Breathe, McCoy, breathe, he told himself.

He could've punched Frank Young in that meeting. He had ordered the case to be closed and now, through a balance of sheer luck and that dogged feeling McCoy had never shaken, McCoy would have to be the one asking questions again and having to cover up explaining why they were back in the lives of those that had lost Avery.

But the thought of getting that smarmy kid was more than enough of a prize to swallow his hubris and get on with it.

He'd have to go and check Vincent's house and phone his employer, some pretentious graphic design studio in Richmond. He hoped they would know something more about where he might be. McCoy kicked himself for not having some sort of trace put on Vincent weeks ago.

And he wanted to check out his father too – there was something in what Doug Prosser had said that always sat awry in his gut about Peter Sampson. They had never been able to grab the time to chase him up in the original investigation.

Before he left for the day he sat back down at his screen and replayed the silent footage of Vincent stashing the skateboard. He zoomed in as far as the pixels would allow him as Vincent turned to watch the incoming train from his far end of the platform.

He saw a good-looking kid dressed smartly with a creeping smile across his clean shaven face.

He saw the face of the sort of kid who thought he'd gotten away with something.

He saw the face of someone he wouldn't stop chasing until he had him.

As he looked up Harper Lewis was walking towards him to leave for the day. He was hit with a pang of guilt that he had taken on all aspects of reopening the Sampson case today and left her to clean up the burg files they had to sign off on or pass on to the next losers in the line. He stood up as she came near him.

'Hey, Lewis – great work today with that board find.' He held up his hand waiting for a high five.

Lewis strode past without missing a stride.

'Fuck you McCoy.'

The door to the detective room slammed hard enough to rattle the pictures on the walls, and hard enough to rattle the cage of Dean McCoy.