Scorched Heart (The Firebrand Series Book 4) by Helen Harper (top non fiction books of all time .txt) 📗

immediately put me in mind of Magnum PI. They were both thin and wiry, although Barry’s paunch was more pronounced than Larry’s.

‘If you can’t remember which one of us is which,’ Larry said, ‘then Blarry usually works. One of us will answer.’ They smirked at each other at the inside joke.

‘I gotta say,’ Barry told me, ‘when we were pulled away to look over your room, I thought it was a waste of time. But it certainly looks as if you were right. The boot prints in the wardrobe are a perfect match for those found next to Patrick Lacey’s corpse. As you can see,’ he waved a hand around the room, ‘we’ve been dusting for fingerprints. On the one hand, this is a far better place to get a decent partial print than the scene at the path. On the other hand, it’s a hotel room. We’ve already pulled at least twenty different prints and we’ve only just started.’

That didn’t surprise me in the slightest – I’d have been shocked if they’d found any fingerprints that would lead us to a suspect. It was enough for me that they’d established that Lacey’s murderer and mine were one and the same.

‘The one thing that doesn’t make any sense,’ Larry told me, ‘is this mark here.’ He pointed to the large scorched area on the floor. So much for the rug covering it up. ‘As far as we can tell, it’s a burn mark and it was caused by some kind of chemical fire. Judging by the ash residue, it happened very recently.’

‘Don’t spend any time on that,’ I said quickly. ‘It’s not relevant.’

‘You don’t know that,’ Barry frowned. ‘I asked the manager and he said he’d never seen anything like it before and that it was definitely new. Was this mark here when you checked in yesterday?’

‘Honestly,’ I repeated. ‘The burn has nothing to do with anything.’

Barry and Larry exchanged glances. Damn it. I didn’t want to have to tell them how to do their jobs, but the last thing either of them needed to do was to waste time trying to work out what had caused the scorch mark.

I changed the subject, hoping I could shift their focus onto something more useful. ‘Have you managed to work out how he got in?’

Larry brightened. ‘Oh yes. That part was easy.’ He stepped over to the window. ‘Tree. Branch. Shimmy. Squeeze.’

I edged over and peered out. It would have been an easy enough climb across the branch then up and over to the window, but reaching the branch wouldn’t have been simple. It was three metres from the ground and there were no obvious footholds on the tree.

Barry knew what I was thinking. ‘Any portable foot ladder could have been carried here and propped up beneath the tree. If it was angled over at this side, not only would it have been hidden from sight by anyone passing by, it wouldn’t have left any impressions on the ground. That’s the pub garden down there and it’s all been patioed over. Once we’re finished up here, we’ll check it out to see if we can find anything to prove our theory.’

I nodded distractedly. It hadn’t occurred to me to worry that the window had been left open. I should have known better. I sighed and turned away, then I froze and stared at the tree. Fuck.

‘Have you spotted something?’ Larry asked eagerly.

Well, it would draw their attention away from the burn if nothing else. ‘There,’ I said. ‘On the side of the tree.’ I pointed. ‘Can you see that?’

He followed my finger, drawing back when he spotted it. ‘Well, I’ll be— Barry, come and see this. It’s a claw mark, right?’

Barry peered out. ‘Damn. It certainly looks like it. No cat made that mark. It’s too large and too deep.’

I pinched off a headache. No, it was definitely not a cat.

Barry and Larry joined together in a gleeful chorus. ‘Supe.’

Yeah. I sighed. Supe.

Chapter Twelve

As I moved my things into my new room, I brushed off as much of the fingerprint dust from each item as I could. Then, with my hands absently caressing my crossbow, I ran through the CCTV footage which Clive Smith had given me.

Although there weren’t any cameras positioned on the second floor where the guest rooms were, there were plenty downstairs and all of them provided clear images. Alas, no one looked out of place. I spent considerable time scanning the footage for large men who looked to be over one-hundred-and-twenty kilograms in weight but there wasn’t anyone who fitted that profile.

Barry and Larry were right: my killer had avoided any areas where cameras were present by coming in through the window. I was beginning to suspect that whoever they were, they were meticulous, unruffled – and experienced at committing heinous crimes.

I spent longer than I should have done watching the flickering video of Julie checking her watch and looking around for my return until she finally murmured something to Bill beside her and left. I’d have to find her later and apologise for disappearing. Goodness only knew what sort of excuse I could make.

Deciding that I couldn’t avoid telling Lukas what had happened for much longer, I tried his phone again. He still wasn’t picking up. Pursing my lips, and hoping I wasn’t reading too much into his sudden silence, I called Laura instead.

‘I’ve had an exceptionally productive morning,’ she told me. She sounded considerably bubblier than I felt. ‘I’m at the cottage. I don’t think there’s any doubt, Emma – you were murdered at the same time as your parents. I’ve taken samples from the mark on the kitchen floor. It’s degraded over time, but there’s more than enough residue for me to make a comparison and the size of the burn is that of a child’s body.’

I didn’t say anything.

‘Emma?’ Laura asked. ‘Are you still there?’

‘Yeah,’ I managed. ‘I’m here. I just…’ I ran a frustrated hand through my hair. ‘I don’t know, Laura.