He wasn’t sure he was ready for this.
It took them ten minutes to reach Topmast Lane. Quinn drove slowly, looking for the opening to an alley.
Elizabeth pointed to a gap between buildings. “There.”
“Aye, I see it.” He turned left, steering the rental vehicle between the buildings.
The alley turned out to be more of a courtyard than a true alley. There were no exits apart from the one by which they’d just entered. The space was surrounded by three-story-high brick buildings, all of which appeared to be businesses. A few large rubbish bins sat along the walls, concrete steps leading to backdoors that were closed, all the windows dark.
“May I get out?”
There was no one around.
“Aye.” He parked but left the car running.
“Turn off the lights.”
Quinn did as she asked, and they both stepped out of the vehicle.
“It’s so dark.” Elizabeth moved to stand an arm’s length in front of Quinn. “He would have been able to see his killer’s face, but I’m not sure he would have seen a knife in anyone’s hand.”
Quinn stood where he could see the entrance to the alley, his gaze moving over the ground searching for the place Jack’s body had been found. There were, of course, no chalk marks like on American TV shows, no police tape left behind, nothing to show that a good man—a husband, a father, a warrior, a brother—had breathed his last here.
Grief, dark and heavy, hit Quinn square in the chest.
Jack, you bastard. What the fuck were you doin’ here, man?
It didn’t seem possible that Jack’s life could have ended on this meaningless patch of asphalt, this nothing of a space, not after he’d survived Iraq and Afghanistan.
“There aren’t any street cams here.” Elizabeth’s voice brought him back.
A flash.
He turned to see her taking photos with her phone. “What are you doin’?”
“I want the names of all these businesses. Some of them are painted on the doors. I can look them up later, see if they’re associated with anyone who knew Jack. There has to be a reason why he was killed here of all places.”
The reason seemed obvious to Quinn. “No one walkin’ or drivin’ by could have seen from the street. If they had, they wouldnae ask questions. It’s near the red-light district and the casino.”
“Yes, it’s a good place for a murder, but why would Jack come here? His car was here, and there was no sign of a struggle. He drove here himself.”
This was a good place for a drug deal, but Quinn couldn’t imagine Jack getting involved in something like that.
The bleep of a siren. Blue and white flashing lights.
Fuck.
Elizabeth walked over to Quinn, put her mobile away. “Have we broken the law?”
That bastard Wilson stepped out of one of the vehicles.
“How the bloody hell did he know where we were?”
“He’s got us under surveillance somehow.” Elizabeth spoke quickly. “We’re here because you want to pay your respects at the place where Jack died. Nothing more.”
“Aye.”
Wilson strolled up to them. “Have you been gone from home for so long that you’ve gotten lost, Mr. McManus? Or perhaps you and Ms. Shields are waitin’ for someone.”