Daylight filtered through skylights twenty feet above them, illuminating part of the gloomy interior, and other torches glowed up ahead.
Mac marched between the racks like a trained commando, Neil hard on his heels.
Emma followed with trepidation, and the hairs on her neck prickled as if she could feel herself getting closer to death.
A brief flash of lifeless eyes and grey, mottled skin flashed into her mind. She shook her head, fighting the image.
The four of them stepped into a cargo bay filled with people Emma recognised. Some leaned against pillars, others sat on the floor or workbenches. Like the cars outside, the two families faced each other—Greco and Hernandez, scowling, arms crossed, silent.
“Hi, sweetie.” In a figure-hugging blue dress, Maria sprang forward and pulled her daughter into a tight embrace.
Emma returned the squeeze. “Hey, Mum.”
Maria cupped Emma’s face in her hands. “Thank you for doing this,” she said in a low voice. “It’s a dark time.”
Emma couldn’t tell if she was being sincere or not. Maria was a world class performer, and always acted over the top in front of Richard.
As if proving the point, Maria let out a breath and hugged Emma again. “So glad you’re here. What would we do without you?”
“Emma.” Richard Greco approached with a solemn expression. He usually stood tall and imposing, but now his shoulders were slumped, tie loose, his collar open, his skin almost as grey as his silver hair.
Emma had never seen him look so deflated and dishevelled. Her father had always been the granite core of their family, forever strong and steadfast. Now he seemed weak, beaten down, and Emma felt an instant wave of grief for him.
Maria glanced at her ex-husband and moved away.
Richard hugged Emma. “You’ve wasted your time. Go home.” His gaze moved to Maria. “You did this.”
Shocked, Emma pulled back. “What?”
Maria’s jaw dropped. “I— Of course not. I would never—”
“Someone in your family, then.” Richard’s face twisted with rage and his eyes searched the gathered crowd. “Where’s Martin? Ruby? You said you’d called everyone.”
Maria held up a hand. “Richard, please. We must—”
“Why was Sophie here?” he snapped.
“I’ve told you that I don’t know the answer,” Maria said. “That’s why Emma is—”
“Who did this?” Richard shouted at the assembled crowd. A flush crept up his neck and spittle flew from his mouth. “Who among you committed this unspeakable act to my fiancée?”
Emma wanted to hug him again, to reassure her father that Nightshade would figure it out, but he paced in front of the Hernandez family like a caged lion.
“How did you lure Sophie here? What lies did you use?” When this didn’t elicit a response, Richard jabbed a finger at Maria. “Look at where we are. Your house, your people.”
Emma stepped toward him. “Dad . . . ”
Richard’s prowling gaze found Jacob, the security guard, who stood away from the group, head bowed, and eyes averted. Richard rushed to him, shoved people aside, and grabbed Jacob by his jacket lapels. He lifted him up until their eyes were on the same level. “What was Sophie doing here?” He shook Jacob as though he were a rag doll. “Well? Speak. Who had she come all this way to meet?”
Jacob’s voice shook. “I-I don’t— Soph—” He swallowed. “I found her like that.”
Nightshade glided to Emma’s side and watched the scene with amused fascination.
“But you let her in.” Richard’s nose almost touched Jacob’s. “Who else was here?”
“No one.” Jacob cowered under the man’s glare.
“Dad,” Emma said. “Stop.”
Richard sniffed the side of the security guard’s neck and face. “I can smell your deceit.” He swung Jacob around and shoved him toward Dalton. “Interrogate this one first.”
“Hold up.” Carlos, a bald Mexican with tattoos on his neck and face, stepped out from the Hernandez family line.
Emma didn’t know much about Carlos. On the rare occasions their paths had crossed, he kept himself to himself, but he often talked to Maria about his disabled son. Two days after his eleventh birthday, Antonio had been in a car accident. Both his legs had needed to be amputated, and Emma’s mother had paid for his care ever since.
“Jacob has done nothing wrong,” Carlos said. “He raised the alarm as soon as he found her.”
Richard motioned to grab him too, but Maria slid between them. “You know I cared about Sophie,” she said, her voice level. “We all did.”
Asher Hayes moved forward. “Sir, may I suggest that, as always, Maria is the best person to conduct the investigation.” He glanced at Emma, then away. “Even in this situation. Maria has a one hundred percent track record of getting to the bottom of all our problems.”
Emma winced. Her father hated that word.
“Problems?” Richard glared at Asher. “Is that what Sophie’s death is to you?”
He’d walked right into that one.
Asher recoiled. “No, of course not. I was merely saying—”
Richard turned back to Maria. “Someone murdered my future wife and unborn child.” He glanced away with a fleeting look of deepest grief, then his gaze hardened as it returned to his ex-wife. “You can leave with Emma. No one else.” He gestured to the Hernandez family. “Your people will remain here to answer my questions.”
Maria folded her arms. “Emma is here with Nightshade, as we agreed. Let them get to work.”
As much as she hated to admit it, Emma agreed.
Richard shook his head. “Absolutely not.”
Maria stood firm. “Our pact, Richard.”
“Not everyone is here,” he said. “Two of yours are absent. The agreement is void.”
Maria kept her gaze locked on him. “Martin and Ruby are on their way.”
Emma glanced around the assembled crowd. Ruby was often late. Her mother complained about her tardiness incessantly. But it was unusual for her uncle to be absent when called for.
Richard gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Sophie—”
“It’s a tragedy. A horrendous act. I agree with you.” Maria’s expression softened. “It’s time, Richard. I implore you to see sense. Nightshade will figure out what happened.” Her face darkened. “And then you can have your vengeance.”
Emma did not like the sound of that.
Richard drew back from Maria and faced his daughter. “Are you sure you want to do this with her?”
“No.” Emma shook her head. “But like Mum says, I’m the only one you trust. Which I think is ridiculous, by the way.”
Nightshade gave a vigorous nod.
Richard’s face set in grim lines. “I’ll have Dalton escort you during the investigation.”
“No, Dad, it’s fine.” The last thing Emma needed was some goon watching over their shoulder the entire time.
“I insist. It’s too dangerous.” Richard’s gaze shifted to the Hernandez side of the room again.
“Seriously.” Emma hurried to him and squeezed his hands, drawing his attention back to her. “I can look after myself. I’m tough.” She half smiled. “I take after you.” She knew that wasn’t true, and by the expression on Richard’s face, so did he. Emma sighed. “I have Mac and Neil. And if it comes to it, they have guns.” She couldn’t stand weapons and would have insisted on no security at all if she could.
Richard stared at Emma for a few seconds, then growled, “Any problems, you call me right away.” He gestured and the Greco family stepped aside.
Emma’s gaze moved to the floor in the middle of the cargo bay, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a scream.
6
The movement of torch beams cast grotesque, twisting shadows in the dim light, and although covered in a white dust sheet, the body lying supine on the painted concrete floor was undeniably Sophie. Even in death, her presence filled t
he warehouse and drew all eyes.
Emma stared, caught between the urge to scream again for her dead future mother-in-law, and the need to run from the building and never look back.
I can’t go through this twice.
The sheet only covered Sophie’s upper torso and face, which left her lower half exposed. She wore an exquisite maroon chiffon-and-lace ball gown cut to flatter her pregnant form, sheer tights, and Jimmy Choo high-heeled shoes, the left one hung off her dainty foot.
A handbag lay under the fingers of Sophie’s right hand, and a bloom of dark blood radiated from beneath the sheet and her head, spreading across the floor like a halo of the damned, the edge of it smeared in a straight line for a few inches across the floor.
Emma squeezed her eyes closed as she fought back tears, the image now burned into her memory for all time, along with the other mental scar she bore.
“Well, this crime scene is well and truly contaminated. Excellent work.” Nightshade put her hands on her hips and scowled at everyone as though they were naughty schoolchildren. “I count thirty-five people in here.” She stomped over to where Sophie’s body lay, knelt, and muttered a prayer.
Emma did the same and wished she could turn back the clock.
Nightshade squinted up at the ceiling. “Why are the lights off?” She glanced around at them all. “Lights, anyone?”
“No power,” Maria replied.
“What about the security hut’s light?” Emma remembered the naked bulb dangled like a hangman’s noose. “That was on when we arrived.”
“It’s on a separate circuit from the farm building,” Carlos said. “The warehouse RCD keeps tripping.”
Emma glanced toward the ceiling at the nearest motion sensor. The power outage could not be a coincidence. Her brow furrowed. Something feels wrong.
“Hmm.” Still kneeling, Nightshade turned, and first looked at the Greco side of the room, then the Hernandez family. “Ah.” Crawling on all fours, she scuttled over to a woman in a leather jacket and pointed between her legs. “There we go.”
Veronica Pérez, Maria’s company secretary, glared down at her. “Excuse me?”
A tubby guy stood next to her chuckled.
Emma didn’t know his name, but her mother had mentioned recently hiring a French polisher.
“Emma, check this out.” Nightshade waved Veronica aside and crawled under a workbench.
Emma muttered an apology and joined Nightshade. A plug with no lead was in a power socket on the wall, the switch next to it set to the on position.
Nightshade flexed her gloved fingers. “Would you mind, darling?”
Emma pulled a tissue from her pocket and removed the plug between her thumb and forefinger.
“That should do it.” Nightshade sat back. “Try now.”
Maria nodded to Carlos and he marched off. Sixty seconds later, the overhead fluorescents flickered on, filling the warehouse with light.
“Bingo.” Nightshade examined the plug in Emma’s hand. “My guess is that someone made this gizmo by shorting the contacts inside. We’ll check it for prints later.”
Emma wrapped the plug in the tissue and slipped it into her coat pocket.
Nightshade crawled back to Sophie’s body. She reached for the dust sheet covering her, but pulled back. “No. Wait a second. Grab that side.” She gestured to Emma. “And go slow.”
Emma froze.
“Please,” Nightshade said. “We need to figure this out. We have to catch the killer.”
Chest tight, muscles tensed as she continued to fight the urge to run from the warehouse, Emma did as Nightshade asked and lifted the dust sheet from Sophie’s head.
Then she stiffened again.
Sophie’s dark eyes stared at the ceiling, and an image of another face was momentarily superimposed over the top, which made Emma scramble back in panic.
“Emma.” Maria rushed to her side.
She held up a hand. “I’m fine, Mum.” Though Emma was far from it. She blinked and took deep breaths as she regained control. The memory faded. “I’m okay.”
Maria backed away from her with a look of concern.
Sophie’s black hair was piled up and held in place by an ornamental comb of golden flowers. She wore flawless makeup, understated, yet with a hint of pink in her cheeks. To Emma she seemed like a doll, perfect except for the hole in the middle of her forehead.
Emma clapped a hand over her mouth and watched in silence, along with everyone else, as Nightshade worked the crime scene, mumbling under her breath.
Nightshade examined Sophie from the toes of her shoes, indicating marks on the floor below each heel, to the top of her head. She examined the pool of blood in detail, and then peered at a few strands of loose hair that lay across Sophie’s serene face.
Nightshade’s brow furrowed. She sat up, glanced left and right like a meerkat, then thrust a finger at a spot a few feet in front of where Sophie had stood. “What was there?”
The gathered crowd gave her blank stares in reply.
“Come on, people. She wasn’t gazing at an empty wall. Something must have grabbed Sophie’s attention. What was in this spot? It’s vital we find out.” Nightshade turned to Maria. “Who was in the security hut?”
Emma’s mother jabbed a thumb toward the corner of the loading bay. Jacob the security guard stood by the roller door again, head bowed, his face so pale under the harsh fluorescent lights that his skull seemed to show through the skin.
Richard Greco’s eyes narrowed, and he looked as though he’d like nothing better than to tear the guy to pieces.
Emma couldn’t blame her father. Jacob was one of the resident guards; his job was to protect the warehouse and everyone in it. However, the whole point of the Nightshade pact was to avoid rushed accusations and unnecessary violence.
Nightshade stabbed a gloved finger at the floor in front of Sophie’s feet. “Please tell me what was here, Jacob,” she said, impatience in her tone.
“How do you know something was there?” Asher asked.
Nightshade gazed at him for a moment. “You see the way our princess is lying? The way she fell, ever so delicately, cleanly, with her handbag by her side?”
Asher gave a single nod.
Nightshade waved at the floor in front of Sophie’s feet. “She was gazing at something or someone when she died. The rubber heel marks indicate Sophie was killed in an instant.” She snapped her fingers. “No time to react.” Nightshade stood up and dusted herself off. “Sophie dropped her bag as she fell backward, coming to rest where we see her now.” She mimed the action with a dramatic flourish. “The body hasn’t moved since.” Nightshade motioned toward Sophie’s head. “And see those strands of beautiful hair swept across her face?” She swung around and thrust a finger at the roller door. “Someone opened that after Sophie died, and caused a draught.”
“Who?” Richard Greco thundered.
“I’m going to hazard a guess here, and I could be wrong, but I’d go with our resident security guard.” Nightshade looked at him. “What say you, Jacob? Would you mind telling the assembled mob exactly what Princess Sophie was doing here? You must have let her in, after all. And what was she gazing at?” Nightshade crossed her arms. “And finally, please enlighten us as to why you felt the need to move said object.”
With all eyes on him, Jacob cowered. “A-A crate,” he said, in a tremulous voice. “She wanted to look inside.” He glanced at Richard, then at Maria. “I-I moved it because I didn’t want the driver to see her like that.”
“What was inside the crate?” Emma asked.
Jacob shrugged.
“But it was open,” she said. “You must have seen.”
Jacob shook his head.
Emma frowned, not sure if she believed him. She looked at her mother, but Maria averted her gaze.
“So, Jacob, you took the crate outside.” Nightshade glided around Sophie and pointed at the pool of blood where something had caught the edge. “Using those.” She stabbed
a finger at a set of pallet trucks by the workbench. “Correct, or no?”
Jacob let out a shuddering breath and nodded.
As Nightshade approached him, her voice softened. “Where is the crate now?”
Jacob whispered, “On its way to Edinburgh.”
7
Silence fell as Jacob’s words sank in. Only the ticking of a clock high on the wall and the hum of the warehouse’s climate-controlled air conditioning lightened the tense atmosphere.
Edinburgh? The crate is on its way to Scotland? Emma did a quick calculation and figured the lorry would be two-thirds of the way there by now.
Richard lunged at Jacob, but Dalton—his personal security guard—restrained him this time.
“Let go.” Richard shrugged free. “This is your fault,” he snapped at Maria.
Her face reddened. “Sophie should not have been here, Richard. What the hell was she doing trespassing on my property?”
Before Emma could do anything, Nightshade slid between them, hands raised. “Hey, hey, hey. There's no need for this. Calm yourselves. The first rule in any situation is to negotiate and discuss. Always seek a peaceful and productive way forward.” She faced Maria. “And if you still don't agree after that, kick his head in.” Nightshade winked, leaned in and stage-whispered, “I suggest you ask the lorry driver to kindly turn around and bring that crate back here. Immediately.”
Emma winced. She expected her mother to blow up, but instead Maria remained calm. That was a pleasant change.
“I already called the driver,” she said through her teeth. “I’m not stupid.” Maria glared at Richard. “I phoned him not long after we got here. Figured he might be a witness.” She gestured at Sophie’s body. “He should arrive sometime in the next hour.”
Emma let out a slow breath.
“Excellent thinking,” Nightshade said. “Sharp.” She slapped her hands together and rubbed them. “Now, who’s up for a spot of breakfast? I don’t know about you lot, but I’m famished.” She nodded at Emma. “Darling, would you be so kind? We bought enough donuts for everyone.”
Not sure what Nightshade was up to, Emma grabbed the box and offered the donuts to the assembled families, starting with the Hernandez side of the room.
Death in London: A Nightshade Crime Thriller (Emma & Nightshade Mystery Series Book 1) Page 4