Page 87 of The Bone Hacker

“Wow.” Swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “Well done.”

“We nailed him about an hour ago.”

“Where?”

“Greenberg’s Farm, out by Pidgeon Pond. I’ve had eyes on theplace since yesterday. Stribbe showed up for work this morning right on time.”

“There’s something you might want to know.”

I told Monck about the intruder.

“Sonofabitch. Are you okay?”

“Other than not sleeping half the night, fit as a fiddle.”

“What did the responding officers think?”

“Probably stealy boys.”

A moment as Monck thought about that. Then,

“I plan to let Stribbe sweat for an hour, then grill him. You want to observe? Watch for something that might ID him as your attacker?”

“Hell, yeah.”

“He’s at the Chalk Sound station. Do you know where that is?”

“I can find it.”

“Take the Leeward Highway. Shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes. If you hit Taylor Beach, you’ve gone too far.”

“Got it.”

How hard could that be?

Harder than I thought. Even with GPS guiding my way.

From Grace Bay Road, I meandered a couple of smaller streets, then hit the first roundabout. I’m not great with roundabouts. My approach. Loop until you figure it out.

I did better at the second roundabout. South Dock Road, a right onto Chalk Sound Road, then I was there.

The station was a two-story white box with a concrete walkway and pillars running the first level, a roofed and iron-railed balcony skirting the second. Several cruisers sat parked in front.

The lobby resembled a thousand others in police stations around the globe. Small and dourly municipal, it had a few posters hanging on the walls, each promoting a benevolent but somewhat depressing enterprise. Other, smaller flyers showed the faces of those wantedfor offenses ranging from public peeing to homicide. An equally disheartening display.

When I entered, a female in civvies looked up and scowled from the far side of a reception desk. I explained my purpose in being there. Rolling her shoulders, the woman scanned me from head to foot.

“You carrying?” she asked.

“No.”

Appearing ready to pin me to a wall should I make a false move, the woman rose and led me down a short corridor to the first of two doors. Gestured me to go in.

I did. Considered my surroundings. There wasn’t much to consider.

The room was small and furnished with two wooden chairs. A rectangular window took up most of one wall. I figured the window’s far side was probably mirrored.

No terminals. No monitors. I’d be viewing Monck’s interrogation old-school.

---