Scorched Heart (The Firebrand Series Book 4)

by Helen Harper

  ‘There’s no provocation,’ Lukas said. ‘No obvious reason for the attack. Not on the video, anyway.’

  I shook my head grimly. ‘No.’ Almost as soon as Parris started stabbing Beswick, prison guards ran towards him and hauled him off. They pinned him to the ground face down.

  I watched the attack twice more, then wound the clip back. Four minutes before he was attacked, Samuel Beswick sat down with his food in front of him. Frederick Parris was already in place. He didn’t even glance in Beswick’s direction until he started moving towards him.

  I stared at Parris hard and drew in a sharp breath. ‘Look,’ I said. I played it again as Lukas leaned in closer.

  Thirty seconds after Samuel Beswick sat down, another prisoner passed by Parris. It was fleeting and easy to miss, but the passing prisoner tapped Parris on the shoulder. It was a sign or an order. Either way, I had to know who that other prisoner was.

  I grabbed my phone. This time Archibald Jenkins answered on the second ring. ‘How is he?’ I barked, without bothering to say hello.

  ‘Last I checked, Samuel Beswick was still in a critical condition. But he’s fighting. He might pull through.’ I breathed out while Jenkins continued. ‘I assume you got my email, detective. I’ve sent through everything that I can. I don’t have access to Frederick Parris’s personal correspondence yet. There are rules and procedures and—’

  ‘Never mind about that,’ I interrupted. ‘I’m watching the footage of the attack. A couple of minutes before Parris goes to stab Samuel Beswick, another prisoner touches his shoulder. I need to know who he is as a matter of urgency.’ I took a screenshot of the man. ‘I’m emailing you his image right now.’

  Jenkins sighed audibly but didn’t complain. A moment later, his voice came on the line again. ‘I know who that is,’ he said. ‘His name is Oliver Tigman. He shares a cell with Parris. He’s on remand for aggravated assault.’

  On remand. That meant he was yet to be sentenced and was awaiting trial.

  ‘Bail?’ I asked.

  ‘Applied for and refused, although Tigman spends a lot of time telling everyone that he’s innocent and that he’ll soon be cleared of all charges.’

  Uh huh. Attacking another prisoner wouldn’t be a good look for him, then. If he’d been the one to instigate Beswick’s stabbing, it was no wonder he’d found someone else to do his dirty work.

  ‘Send me through what you have on Tigman, and information about his recent visitors.’

  ‘DC Bellamy, I can’t do this for every single prisoner in our care.’

  I remained calm. ‘I’m not asking you to do it for every single prisoner, I’m asking you to do it for Oliver Tigman. Immediately.’

  There was a hiss from Jenkins. ‘Give me fifteen minutes.’

  I smiled humourlessly. ‘Thank you.’ Then I hung up.

  ‘Will Jenkins come through?’ Lukas asked.

  ‘He’d better.’

  In the end, it took Archibald Jenkins seventeen minutes. He’d only managed to get hold of two documents, the first detailing the charges against Oliver Tigman and the second listing his recent visitors. Unfortunately there was only one name, someone called Gwynne Evans. He was listed as a paralegal with Tigman’s solicitor.

  Gwynne Evans was a Welsh name, something unusual in these parts. I would have recognised it immediately if I’d come across it in Barchapel. Frustrated, I grabbed a nearby pillow and threw it across the room. ‘For fuck’s sake!’ I’d been so sure I was onto something with Tigman. I reached for another pillow. ‘Fuck!’

  Lukas’s hand shot out to stop me. ‘Wait,’ he said. There was an odd note in his voice. ‘Wait.’

  ‘What?’ My head snapped towards his.

  ‘I’ve heard that name before,’ Lukas said. ‘I’m sure of it.’ He gazed at me. ‘There are some benefits to being older than I look. Gwynne Evans was the last human male to be executed in this country.’

  I didn’t understand. ‘That must have been decades ago.’

  ‘The sixties,’ Lukas said. ‘He was hanged at the same time as another man who’d committed the same crime. I’m sure of it – he’s definitely already dead. The name could be a coincidence but—’

  I’d already scrolled down to the photo of Evans. ‘It’s not a coincidence.’ I stared at the image, my jaw hanging open. ‘I’ve met that man before.’

  ‘In Barchapel?’

  ‘No.’ I closed my mouth and swallowed. ‘On the train. He was sitting opposite me on the train on the way here. He…’

  Oh God. My voice dropped to a whisper as I recalled the conversation. ‘He complained about the kids in the next carriage. He said it was a bugbear of his that the train guards were never around to deal with them.’ Fury flashed through me, although whether it was at the man for being so brazen or at myself for not noticing what he’d said, I wasn’t sure.

  ‘He called the kids, including Chloe, cockroaches. And Frederick Parris called Samuel Beswick a cockroach. When he was asked why he’d stabbed him, he said it was because the cockroach was looking at him funny.’

  I slammed my palm against the screen. ‘How many paralegals do you know of pensionable age? Gwynne Evans, whoever the fuck he was or whatever he’s capable of, has been taunting me from the very beginning. I’ve had all the answers for days and didn’t realise it. He’s probably found it hilarious that he’s thrown all these clues at me and I’ve not connected the dots.’

  Lukas squeezed my knee. ‘You’ve connected them now.’ He gazed at Evans’ photo. ‘You said before that he had to be someone who didn’t look threatening. Nobody is scared of a frail-looking pensioner.’

  I smiled grimly. ‘But he’s not frail. Assuming we’re on the right track, whatever a bugbear really is it’s got strength and power. Enough to kill someone like Patrick Lacey – and enough to kill someone like me. Gwynne Evans is obviously a false name that he took deliberately because of who he is. Maybe even because of what I am. Gwynne Evans, back from the dead. Just like me.’

  Lukas gave me a long dark look.

  ‘I doubt he’s using that name now,’ I said. ‘But he’s still in Barchapel, no matter what name he’s going by.’ The surge of adrenaline I’d felt was replaced by cold, vicious clarity. This. This was the man who’d murdered my parents. ‘I’m going to get you,’ I promised his photo. ‘And soon.’

  Boateng wasn’t answering his phone. I bit out a curse. ‘He’s probably still at the cottage. It’ll take us ten minutes to get back there. Less.’ I pulled back my shoulders. ‘There are loads of police officers there. One of them is bound to have seen the old man somewhere. One of them will have interviewed him and will know where he’s staying.’ Another thought occurred to me. ‘He might even have dropped in for a drink at the bar downstairs.’

  Lukas’s black eyes glittered with barely suppressed rage. ‘Before or after he hid in your wardrobe and strangled you?’

  My mouth tightened. ‘I didn’t see him on the CCTV footage, but we already know how smart he thinks he is.’

  ‘Not smart enough,’ Lukas said,

  ‘We don’t know his real name,’ I cautioned. ‘And he’s not in custody.’

  ‘He will be.’

  I reached for my crossbow, checking it was loaded and ready. ‘Either that,’ I said calmly, ‘or he’ll be dead. He’s some kind of supe.’ I held up my weapon. ‘That means I’m legally permitted to use this against him.’

  Something flickered in Lukas’s expression. ‘Be careful,’ he said.

  ‘You can’t tell me he doesn’t deserve to die.’

  ‘He killed your parents. He killed you. He’s definitely killed at least two others, if not more. This man, supe or not, is pure evil.’ Lukas brushed a loose curl away from my face. ‘But don’t forget who you are, either. He can’t kill you in the physical sense – not permanently, anyway.’ He dropped his hand to my chest. ‘Don’t let him kill who you are inside. I know you, Emma, and you are not a killer.’

  I spoke quietly. ‘I’ve
killed before.’

  ‘Only when you had to, and there was no other choice.’

  I lifted my chin. ‘There’s a first time for everything.’

  ‘Emma.’ Lukas removed his hand. ‘D’Artagnan.’ He sighed. ‘You’re a better woman than I am a man. You walked away from Samuel Beswick.’

  ‘That was different,’ I said quietly. ‘He was in prison. It was easier to walk away.’

  Lukas didn’t look away. ‘No, it wasn’t.’

  My thumb lightly stroked the shaft of the crossbow. ‘Miranda James told me not to waste what I have or to waste what I am. I won’t shoot unless I have to.’

  Lukas’s mouth curled up at the edges. ‘I know.’ He took my hand. ‘Let’s find ourselves a murderer.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  We started in the bar of the Bird and Bush. It was busy, although the hum of conversation was far more muted than the last time I’d had a drink in there. The locals were obviously finding it difficult to come to terms with Julie’s killing – after all, she’d been a regular there.

  My gaze drifted to the spot by the bar where I’d spoken to her then I looked away again. It was at that point I realised how many sets of eyes were upon us. The bartender had frozen in the act of pouring a beer. The family in the corner, who were eating hearty meals of home-made pie and chips, stared at us with their mouths open. And Bill, who had introduced me to Julie and who was still wearing his flat cap, was glowering.

  ‘It’s me they’re worried about,’ Lukas said in a low voice. ‘Not you.’

  It was difficult to ignore the stares and the rumbles of discontent. I switched my crossbow to my left hand and slid my right hand into Lukas’s, entwining our fingers. Then I cleared my throat. Enough already.

  ‘My name is Detective Constable Emma Bellamy,’ I said, raising my voice to make sure that everyone heard me. ‘But most of you already know that. I work in Supernatural Squad in the Metropolitan Police. This is Lord Lukas Horvath. He’s my boyfriend and he’s also the leader of the London vampires. Don’t worry – he’s not here to drink your blood.’

  Lukas smiled, making sure to open his mouth wide so nobody could fail to spot his brilliant white, perfectly sharp fangs. ‘But I will if anyone offers themselves up.’ There was more than one audible gasp.

  ‘I live in London now,’ I said, quickly bringing the focus back to what was important, ‘but I was born here. I spent the first five years of my life in Barchapel. My parents were murdered here and now a killer is stalking these streets again.’ I hesitated. I had to tread carefully here. I couldn’t be seen to outwardly determine someone’s guilt - that was the job of a court of law, not me - and I couldn’t do anything which might encourage any sort of vigilantism. ‘We are urgently seeking a man who we believe can help us with our inquiries. I have a photo of him. We need to urgently find this man, so that the killer can be brought to justice and we can make sure that Barchapel is safe again.’

  I dropped Lukas’s hand and held up my phone, displaying the image of Gwynne Evans. ‘This is the man we’re looking for. We believe he has vital information which can help us find Julie and Patrick’s killer.’

  I’d been expecting some sort of reaction but nobody moved and nobody said anything. I spoke a little louder and waved my phone. ‘Does anyone know this man?’

  Bill slid off his barstool and removed his cap. ‘How long is the vampire staying here?’ he asked with a long look at Lukas.

  ‘As long as it takes,’ Lukas replied smoothly. ‘I know you’re afraid of me, but it’s not me you should be afraid of. I’m here to help. The killer is a supernatural creature, although we don’t yet know what kind. He’s not a vampire and he’s not a werewolf, but he has powers and he’s more than prepared to kill. He’s already murdered two of your people. As I said, I’m not the person you need to be afraid of.’

  From behind the bar, the bartender coughed. ‘Uh…’ Everyone looked at him, myself and Lukas included. ‘Could I have your autograph?’

  I only just managed to avoid rolling my eyes.

  ‘If any of you can tell us who this man is and where we can find him,’ Lukas said, ‘you can have whatever you want.’

  Bill muttered something and marched towards us. His expression was set and for a moment I was genuinely unsure what he was going to do. Then he stopped and looked hard at the photo on my phone screen. ‘Is he the one who killed Julie?’

  ‘He can help us with our inquiries into her murder,’ I said firmly, ‘and Patrick’s.’

  Bill threw me an irritated look, obviously well aware what “helping with inquiries” actually meant. ‘I’ve seen him,’ he said. ‘I don’t know his name but I know where he’s staying.’

  The air around me seemed to still. ‘Where?’

  ‘The campsite out by Lowes Green farm,’ Bill replied. ‘He’s pitched a tent there.’

  Lukas brushed against me almost imperceptibly, and I remembered to breathe again. ‘Thank you,’ I said. I swung my gaze round the room. ‘The man who murdered Julie Mackintosh and Patrick Lacey is not to be underestimated. Don’t walk around Barchapel on your own. The killer is incredibly dangerous.’

  Bill placed the cap back on his head. ‘He’s not the only one,’ he muttered, disdain dripping from his voice. He turned and returned to his stool.

  I opened my mouth to say something else. ‘Leave it,’ Lukas murmured. ‘We’ve got more important things to worry about.’

  I closed my mouth. Yeah. I shook my head resignedly and we departed.

  ‘I need a better PR team,’ Lukas said, once we were outside.

  My hackles were still raised. ‘How do you change the hearts and minds of an entire nation?’

  He dipped his head and kissed me briefly. ‘Capturing a serial killer might be a good start. Besides, the barman is a fan.’

  I clicked my tongue. Yeah, yeah. It was either adulation or dread where supes were concerned and nothing in between. ‘Much as I want to head to that campsite immediately, we can’t go all vigilante. I must speak to Boateng first. This is his investigation and he needs to know what we’ve found out. Personal as this is, I’m still a serving police officer.’

  Lukas glanced up at the sky. ‘It’s already dusk. Boateng won’t be at the cottage for much longer.’

  ‘Then let’s hurry.’

  We jogged round the back of the Bird and Bush and down the road out of Barchapel. We’d barely gone fifty metres, when a familiar figure waved from the other side of the street.

  ‘Detective!’ PC Rothsay started jumping up and down. ‘I was on my way to find you!’ He flicked a look at Lukas and flinched. Rothsay wasn’t much of an actor; he’d have to work on that if he wanted to become a better police officer. You couldn’t allow your personal feelings to interfere with your work. I smiled faintly. That was advice I needed to remember sometimes, too.

  ‘I’ll wait here,’ Lukas said. ‘It’s probably easiest.’

  I grimaced but didn’t disagree then crossed the road to see what Rothsay wanted. Hopefully not much. ‘What is it?’

  He beamed at me. ‘I did what you asked, DC Bellamy. I found who Patrick Lacey was sleeping with.’

  To be honest, I’d all but forgotten about that line of enquiry. ‘Oh. Good work.’

  ‘Miranda James,’ Rothsay declared. ‘It appears they were having some kind of clandestine affair.’

  I wrinkled my nose. ‘Are you sure?’ It seemed unlikely. Why wouldn’t Miranda have mentioned it? Considering the other things she’d admitted, a relationship with a single man with whom she already had a complicated history hardly seemed a big deal.

  ‘Well,’ Rothsay said, his manner suddenly awkward, ‘that’s what I’ve been told. This is a small place. No matter how hard you try to keep secrets, the truth always comes out sooner or later.’

  Indeed. ‘Thanks for that.’ I nodded at him. ‘I appreciate your efforts.’

  ‘No problem.’ He gazed at me, as if expecting me to turn and head straight for Mir
anda James’s house.

  ‘I’m looking for DCI Boateng,’ I said. ‘I expect he’s still overseeing the examinations at the cottage.’

  ‘Uh,’ Rothsay blinked. ‘Yeah, as far as I know.’

  I smiled. ‘Good.’ I thought of something else and took out my phone. I showed Rothsay the photo of Gwynne Evans. ‘Have you seen this man?’

  PC Rothsay blinked. ‘No. Who is it?’ Then his eyes went wide. ‘Is it…?’

  ‘I’m almost certain it is.’

  ‘Shit.’ His Adam’s apple jerked in his throat. ‘Shit.’ He looked down at my crossbow. ‘Shit,’ he said again.

  Uh huh. Rothsay was desperate to be a hero and he was naïve enough to go looking for Evans on his own. Unfortunately that was only likely to get him killed.

  ‘Come with us to Boateng,’ I told him. ‘You won’t want to miss any of this.’

  Rothsay looked nervously at Lukas.

  ‘Actually,’ I said, irritated, ‘scratch that. Head to the station and see if you can contact Boateng from there. Tell him we’re on our way to see him. Then muster the troops – every police officer within a twenty-mile radius needs to be ready.’ That was what Boateng would do, so I hoped he wouldn’t mind me taking the initiative.

  ‘Okay.’ Rothsay seemed relieved. He started running towards Barchapel police station.

  I exhaled a long breath and returned to Lukas.

  ‘What was that all about?’ he asked.

  I tutted. ‘Nothing really. Apparently Miranda James was sleeping with Patrick Lacey before he died.’

  ‘Why wouldn’t she have mentioned that before?’

  I shrugged. ‘I have no idea. She was about the only person who was sad about what happened to him. Maybe she was embarrassed, or she didn’t want her son to know what she was up to.’

  ‘Humans are weird,’ Lukas commented.

  I couldn’t argue with that. ‘Yeah.’