Free Linda Welch - A conspiracy of Demons by A Conspiracy of Demons Page A

move, but all these little lads were scrambling like spiders.”
    “Damn!” Royal eased off on the gas. Traffic had backed up . “Road - works. We can avoid it on the way back.”
    After inching along for seven minutes, he took the Centerville exit where we turned south along South Main . We rejoined the Interstate at Bountiful.
    “This reminds me of Switzerland, all those houses up on the mountainside,” Carrie said. “Not that I’ve been there, but I’ve seen pictures. I expect you have, haven’t you? Perhaps I’ll go to Switzerland next .
    “Some parts of France near the border look like this. You should visit France, it’s an experience. Although it would be quite a journey for you, as bad as going to England, not just a trip on the ferry or through the Chunnel. My neighbor Margaret took the Chunnel all the time. Not me, I told her! All that water pressing down. They tout the safety but I ask you, what if. . . .”
     
    At the bottom of the concrete steps leading up to Provo PDs squat, concrete building, I pretended to talk to Royal as I spoke to Carrie. “You r emember what to do? ”
    “ Yes. I latch onto D etective Stirland or Detective Haney, because obviously I can’t go with both of them. Unless they’re together all day and night, which I doubt. But I am not going into a Men’s room, if you want that you can think again. I suppose if they’re on a watch amacallit, a stakeout, they’ll - ”
    “Carrie!”
    She humphed at me, then sighed. “I go everywhere with either one of them . I listen for anything they say about your friend Lynn and read everything I can see. Case file. Autopsy report. Anything. If you leave today without seeing the detectives, I stay here, hitch a ride to the Criminal Investigations D epartment and find them. You’ll pick me up tomorrow afternoon. I come outside, head right and go to the next block. What’s a block? ”
    “ W alk to the next corner and cross the alley .”
    “I suppose lots of people come in and out of a police station. I should be able to get in there.”
    “I hope we can take you in and right to the detectives.”
    T he air felt heavy and sullen in a pale, cloudless sky , and too warm for this time of year. Maybe a storm headed this way .
    A prickle ran up my spine , tickling my consciousness , almost as if we were being watched . Spinning in a circle , I surveyed the street. My words came out softly. “Royal, someone has eyes on us.”
    People went about their business on foot and in autos. Nothing and no one looked suspicious, out of place. Yet the sensation of watching eyes lingered.
    “I do not see or sense anything.” Royal put his arm along my shoulders.
    “I don’t k now either , but. . . .” I clamped my lips together irritably. I felt something, I knew it, though not now.
    We walked up the steps and in the precinct building. I stood at a big window and looked at the street as Royal went to the desk and spoke to the officer on duty.
    He joined me a minute later. “They wi ll let us know .”
    We moved to a long, narrow leather seat. Carrie stood behind us. We were not there more than five minutes when the officer beckoned to us, then flipped one hand to indicate the stairwell .
    The precinct was new territory so we followed signs at the top of the stairs and were soon in the Criminal Investigations Department . I probably could have found it by the noise. You hear a contradictory kind of sound, where officers and detectives talk on the phone, assist p eople and question others. Jocularit y laced with tension, casual banter and sharp tones.
    A homeless man grasped two large shopping bags filled with old clothes in one hand as he gestured wildly at a detective with the other. A heavyset man in his fifties wearing a brown boiler suit sat beside a desk with hands cuffed in front of him. Two teen girls with red-rimmed eyes sat with a female detective.
    “It looks like NYPD Blue,” Carrie said.
    “The old cop series? You got it on British