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

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