Twenty-Two

Lucas refreshed the web page on his screen. ‘That’s it, they are racing.’

‘How do you know?’ Garcia asked.

Lucas pointed to the top of the page ‘Race status: racing’.

Everyone stood motionless; all eyes fixed on Lucas’s computer screen as if they could all see the race track. For an instant it felt like no one was breathing. Garcia shifted his weight to his left leg, but no position was a comfortable one. The tension inside the office was palpable.

Hunter was starting to get restless. He didn’t like this. Why was the killer playing games now? Did the killer know that one of the detectives was a gambler?

The silence in the room was broken by Detective Maurice’s voice. ‘Refresh it,’ he said excitedly.

‘It’s only been about ten seconds since they started racing.’

‘Refresh it anyway.’

‘OK, OK.’ Lucas clicked the button on his browser. The webpage refreshed in less than a second. Race status: racing. ‘See? No result yet.’

The anxiety was making everyone uncomfortable. People were starting to get fidgety, but all eyes were still on Lucas’s computer screen. The seconds went by like hours. Garcia started massaging his forehead and temples. Maurice was done biting his nail on one thumb and had now moved to the other one. Hunter hadn’t said a word since the race started.

‘Can’t we call the track and explain that someone is gonna die if dog five doesn’t win,’ Detective Maurice offered.

Garcia laughed. ‘Yeah, of course we can, they won’t just think you’re some crazy gambler who has bet all your life savings on that race. Think about it.’

Maurice realized how stupid his suggestion sounded.

Lucas refreshed the webpage once again. Still no result.

‘This is taking quite a long time, isn’t it? It’s been about two minutes since the race started,’ Garcia said with a worried look.

‘I know, and I don’t like that,’ Lucas replied.

‘Why not, why not?’ Maurice asked, unable to contain his concern.

‘Usually when it takes too long it means the result went to the judges, two or more dogs crossed the finish line together so they have to look at a photograph to decide who the winner is. If they can’t tell the dogs apart, they might call a dead heat.’

‘What the hell is a dead heat?’

‘You know nothing about races do you, Garcia? It’s like a draw, two or more dogs are declared winners.’

‘What happens then?’ Garcia’s question was directed at Hunter who had no answer.

The room fell silent again and everyone turned back to the computer screen. Maurice had stopped biting his nails and had placed both of his hands in his pockets in an attempt to stop them from shaking.

‘Let me try one more time.’ Lucas clicked his mouse and waited. The page reappeared on the screen and this time they finally had a result.