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

cough to the side of us. I looked over and saw Boateng. I made my excuses to the couple and walked over to him. ‘Did they have anything useful to offer?’ he asked.

‘Not really, sir. A few murmurs about the numbers of tourists passing through. Do you think a tourist might be responsible?’

‘We’ve tracked down as many holidaymakers as we can, and there have been plenty of requests for information put out via the media, but nothing useful has turned up.’ Boateng’s mouth thinned. ‘With this second death to contend with, I’m all out of theories. From what we know about the timing and location of both deaths, I suspect we’re looking for a local.’

I lowered my voice. ‘Are there any local residents who might be secretly supe?’

Boateng looked uncomfortable. ‘The only person whose name has come up is a woman called Miranda James, but it seems unlikely that she’s the culprit. She doesn’t have an alibi for Lacey’s murder beyond being at home asleep with her son in the house, but there’s no motive and nothing to tie her to the supernatural beyond local gossip. And she’s certainly not a heavily built male.’

‘Indeed. And while she might not have a solid alibi for Lacey’s murder, she’s got one for Julie Mackintosh’s.’ I pointed to myself. ‘Me. I was with her.’

‘Ah.’ He scratched his chin. ‘Well, she didn’t seem a likely suspect.’ He sighed. ‘I have to say that I don’t like this. I don’t like it all. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s far more to this than murder. I don’t suppose you’ve turned anything up?’ He didn’t sound particularly hopeful – and he was right not to be.

‘Unfortunately most people seem more keen to talk to me about my parents and what happened to them than anything else.’

Boateng looked unsurprised. ‘If most of the village know who you are, that’s only natural. However, I don’t think it will be helpful for you to continue with any more interviews, Emma. The waters are muddied enough without potential witnesses focusing on a decades-old crime that’s already been solved.’

I wanted to argue, to say that it was possible my parents’ murder hadn’t been solved. But until I heard more from Miranda, I didn’t have much information to provide and I knew that Boateng was right. If everyone I questioned veered onto the subject of my parents rather than focusing on the two immediate murder victims, my skills as an interviewer would be wasted.

‘Okay,’ I conceded. ‘I understand – but I hope you don’t mind if I continue to help your investigation wherever I can.’

‘Well, now you mention it,’ Boateng gave me a long look, ‘I’m not sure your assistance will be required for much longer. Barry and Larry have something they think you should look at.’

I raised an eyebrow and glanced round. The mustachioed pair were in the same section of park as they had been when I arrived, still crouched down and sifting carefully through the earth. I nodded at Boateng and joined them. ‘I hear you might have something for me.’

Barry glanced over and flashed me a quick smile. ‘Indeed. Take a look at this, detective.’ He gestured to the patch of ground in front of him. Larry moved to the side so I could get a better view. When I saw what they were focusing on, I sucked in a sharp breath.

There were two sets of prints in the soft earth next to a pretty rosebush. The first set was chillingly familiar: two clear, heavy boot prints. The second, placed about a foot in front of them, was a gigantic paw print. It looked exactly the same as the mark that had been found at the site of Lacey’s death.

Once again, it looked as if whoever wore the boots had transformed in mid-air before landing on a single paw. I stared at the prints. Then I drew back. ‘No.’

Barry and Larry looked at each other. I thought I saw a flicker of a smile at the edges of Larry’s mouth. ‘Go on.’

‘It doesn’t make any sense,’ I said. ‘It was credible in the alleyway where Lacey was found because there were several distinct trails and we know that attack happened at night. Not to mention that there was a gap of a couple of metres where no prints were visible. But it’s a different story here. Looking at these prints, our suspect is a supernatural being who wears big boots but can still transform in a split second.’

I shook my head. ‘I don’t buy it. I’ve seen plenty of werewolves shift from human to wolf and back again. It’s a fast process, but it’s not that fast. The gap between human and animal prints here is a foot at best, and the earth underfoot is far softer than the alley. There would be a mess of prints on the ground, not merely a few perfectly formed ones. And what the hell happens to the boots after he transforms? Werewolves’ clothes burst off if they don’t take them off first. Have you found any scraps of material?’

‘No,’ Barry said.

‘And nothing like that was found in the alleyway,’ Larry added.

‘So either the killer is wandering around naked apart from his boots, or he calmly takes off his clothes and springs out of his boots before transforming. That hardly seems likely.’ I stared at the prints. ‘It might have worked in the dead of night in a deserted alleyway when your victim is three sheets to the wind and can’t walk in a straight line, let alone pay attention to what’s in front of him. It wouldn’t work here.’

I paused. ‘I don’t think this is a supe. I think it’s someone trying to make us look for a supe.’

I expected at least one of them to disagree but neither of them did. ‘The prints are highly suspicious, too,’ Larry told me. ‘Like you, we were prepared to take them at face value at the first murder scene, although we had