Free Cherringham--A Fatal Fall by Matthew Costello

can get through — then go break in. Then you can follow …”
    She shook her head. “Hey — I’ve been practising on locks. You know that, right? Watching you. Let me try to get in. The door lock looked pretty simple.”
    He kept his eyes on her, debating. Then: “Always like to have my partner try out their skills. You got it. I’ll be right beside you in case you need a hand.”
    Then, after he took another look at the site office …
    “You ready?”
    Sarah nodded.
    “Then — it’s time to go.”
    And Sarah popped open her door, ready to race beside Jack.
    *
    “Damn,” she said, fiddling with the pick buried in the keyhole that did, indeed, look simple.
    “Take your time,” Jack said.
    Then Sarah felt something, the inner workings of the lock, and with a quick rattle, the door popped open.
    They quickly slipped inside.
    “You know, a lock like that — for future reference — might even open if you slide a credit card — something thin, bit of metal — between the jam and the door. Could be quicker.”
    “Thanks, professor.”
    He laughed as they stood in the darkness. “But you did good. Really!”
    And then she looked around the office.
    The computer on Spark’s desk. Filing cabinets. Walls filled with building plans.
    “Time to get to work,” she said. And Sarah walked over to the desktop computer.
    “And I’ll check the file cabinet,” Jack said, slipping out a small torch.
    And quietly, together, but searching in two different worlds, they looked through the records of Winters Construction for any information, any clues about Dylan McCabe.

13. What the Record Shows
    Jack leaned back on the hard plastic chair in the dim light cast from the lamps outside and watched Sarah working at Sparks’ desktop computer.
    He’d never been a natural with computers — but he could see that as Sarah’s hands flew across the keyboard, her mind was totally in the zone.
    “Any luck?” he said.
    “Ton of emails,” she said. “And I think I’ve already found something interesting.”
    “Yes?”
    “Looks like Dylan wasn’t the only guy on site without a proper ID card.”
    “So Sparks was playing fast and loose with hiring, huh?”
    “And if he was turning a blind eye there, maybe he was cutting corners elsewhere …”
    “The kind of thing a whistle-blower might pick up on, huh?” said Jack. “You got the names of the other guys without cards?”
    “It’ll take some digging. I’ll dump it all on a drive to read later. Just taking a quick tour round the Winters Construction server, see if I can pick up any staff records.”
    Jack looked out of the trailer window into the brightly lit building lot. It was beginning to snow, just light flakes for now, fluttering in the glare of the arc lights. In another place, another time, the idea of snow falling in England, with just days until Christmas, would have been magical.
    But here — now — yards from where Dylan McCabe had fallen to his death, the snow was just another problem to deal with.
    “How ’bout you?” said Sarah, still typing.
    “Nada,” said Jack. “Just a lot of bills, plans. Everything to do with money and materials — nothing to do with people.”
    “That’s because it’s all on here — I hope.”
    Jack checked his watch.
    Don’t want to overstay our welcome, he thought.
    But it had certainly been right for Sarah to come along. The filing cabinets were pretty empty — emptier than he had expected for a busy building operation.
    Just like McCabe’s trailer and van — had someone been in here doing some careful gardening before the inspectors turned up?
    Or maybe before Sarah and I did … ?
    And if that was the case — maybe someone was expecting them.
    Which means … maybe I was wrong about the CCTV? he thought .
    Maybe somebody’s watching right now …
    “Sarah — I think it’s time we were out of here.”
    Now he saw her stop and look across at him — concerned.
    “What? I thought we had plenty of time.