Scorched Heart (The Firebrand Series Book 4), Helen Harper [free ereaders .txt] 📗

what the footprints tell us. It’s quite obvious that the attack began further up. Here, I’ll show you.’

As we followed her, more and more yellow tags appeared along the way to indicate where evidence had been found. By the time the path widened, there were dozens of them. I didn’t need to look at Rothsay’s face to know that this was where Lacey’s body had been discovered.

The ground here was a mess. It took a trained eye to point out what had happened. ‘So,’ the technician explained, crouching down, ‘you can see from this partial footprint that Lacey stopped here.’

I couldn’t see that at all, but I was prepared to bow to her greater knowledge.

She indicated another mark. ‘He took a step back here,’ she said, ‘and here. Then he started to twist, as if to leave in the opposite direction. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t get very far.’

She gestured to a far larger imprint. ‘He fell onto his left side here and died, probably within seconds. These sections,’ she pointed out more of the numbered tags, ‘indicate where his blood was spattered. There’s not a lot of it, which is surprising given the way he fell and the amount of blood loss he suffered.’

I gazed grimly at the spot before looking up. ‘And his attacker? Where are those prints?’

The technician grinned. ‘Over here. And this is where things get interesting.’ She picked her way over with PC Rothsay and I close behind. ‘The attacker came in from the opposite direction. We’re assuming that these boot prints were made by the killer. From the size of the prints and the heavy marks in the ground, I’m sure you’re looking for a large male.’ She paused. ‘A very large male. He has to be at least a hundred and twenty kilograms.’

Wow. Our nasty little perp was not so small, then. ‘Okay.’ I nodded. ‘What else?’

‘From the moment he steps onto the path until here,’ she said, indicating another section, ‘he doesn’t alter his speed in any way. He doesn’t run, he doesn’t change pace. Nothing.’

It was little more than six metres to where Lacey had died. I looked at Rothsay. ‘How dark does it get here? Is it possible that the attacker didn’t notice Lacey until they were almost on top of each other?’

The young policeman shook his head. ‘You can’t see them from here, but just over that hedge there are street lights for the road opposite. It’s dark, but it’s certainly not pitch black.’

The technician agreed. ‘We checked it ourselves last night. Both Lacey and his attacker would have had a clear view of each other for quite some distance.’

Hmm. That gave credence to the idea that it was something Lacey had said or shouted out that had enraged his killer. The footprints suggested that the perp had not considered attacking Lacey until he got close to him.

I angled my head and spotted the section from the photograph that Boateng had shown me. While many of Patrick Lacey’s footprints were smudged or difficult for a layman like me to read, the killer’s were far clearer. Heavy boot print, heavy boot print, heavy boot print, two-metre gap devoid of marks, then several animal paw prints. Assuming it was a creature similar to a werewolf, it appeared to have shifted from human form to animal in mid-air.

I stared at the first animal print. It was massive. I’d been sure before but now I was positive: this definitely hadn’t been a wolf. The largest werewolf I’d ever seen was Devereau Webb and even his paw prints wouldn’t be this size.

‘We’ve undertaken several comparisons,’ the technician said, with a meaningful look that suggested she was about to say something important. ‘The closest match we’ve found to this paw print is that of a Kodiak bear.’

Chapter Ten

A Kodiak bear. A werebear? Was such a thing even possible? But if werewolves could exist, it stood to reason that there were other such creatures. I’d certainly never heard of any werebears and I wasn’t sure anyone else had, either.

PC Rothsay, who seemed even more thrown by the suggestion than I was, shoved his hands into his pockets when we re-emerged from the path and started mumbling to himself, his words a stream of incoherent panic. He twisted away, pacing up and down the pavement in agitation. I ignored him and took out my phone.

Liza took her sweet time answering. ‘Good morning,’ she said, sounding as if it were anything but. ‘You have reached Supernatural Squad. You are speaking to Liza May, the civilian enquiry clerk. What is the nature of your enquiry?’

Uh… ‘Liza?’ I asked. ‘What’s with the formal introduction?’ Usually she answered the phone with little more than a grunt.

‘Oh,’ she sniffed. ‘It’s you. Detective Sergeant Grace has given me a script to read from. He doesn’t think that I’m professional enough and has decided to put words into my mouth. Literally. When the fuck are you coming back?’

‘In about two weeks,’ I told her. ‘As you well know. DS Grace has a lot of experience, Liza. If he thinks that answering the phone in a more—’

‘He told Devereau Webb that he has to move to Lisson Grove within seven days or he’ll arrest him,’ she interrupted.

I winced. I doubted that had gone down well. I was starting to get the feeling that I’d have a lot of mopping up to do when I finally returned to London. ‘It’ll take DS Grace a while to get used to supes. I’m sure he’ll become more diplomatic as time goes on.’

‘You’re talking out your sweet arse, Detective Constable Bellamy,’ Liza said.

Yeah. Probably. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘I’m calling with a question. You know those paw prints I sent you yesterday?’

‘The prints that aren’t from any kind of werewolf?’

‘Those are the ones. It’s been suggested that they were made by a bear – uh, a werebear.’

Liza didn’t say anything.

‘Liza?’

‘Is this some kind of joke? A werebear? What the hell?’

‘You’ve never heard of such a creature?’

‘Of course not! You’re