He ran up the rest of the steps into a vast, barn-like room with Dallas on his heels. The smell of gunpowder hung in the thick atmosphere. Among the other smells Dallas imagined he could smell musk.
‘Look at that!’ Olin barked, dropping the flashlight beam to the floor. A dark-brown stain made an irregular pattern on the dirty boards: close by was a small pile of half-burned matches.
‘That’s blood.’
Dallas spotted a door in the wall. He went over to it, pushed it open. He found himself looking down at the dark waters of the river, some thirty feet below.
‘He killed her and threw her out this way,’ he said, through clenched teeth.
Olin joined him.
‘Looks like it,’ he said. ‘There’s the river boys. We’d better get them working here.’ He flashed his light on and off. In the distance a light answered. ‘They’l be up in a couple of minutes. Wait here and guide them in. I’ll get my lot together.’
Dallas sat on the floor, flashing his light on and off. At the back of the building he could hear Olin’s whistle. The lights of the police launch came closer. By the time Olin had returned, the police launch was bobbing up and down just below where Dallas was sitting.
‘There’s a body down there somewhere,’ Olin shouted. ‘It was thrown in from here. Get busy and find it. It couldn’t have drifted far.’
A powerful searchlight was turned on that lit up a big expanse of water. It made Dallas feel sick to think that Zoe was somewhere in that dark, oily grave. He sat there, smoking, for a long time, while the River Police threw out their drags and systematically combed the river.