Page 22 of Gone in the Night (Detective Morgan Brookes #16)
TWENTY-TWO
The pizza was good, too good, and Morgan was stuffed, wishing she’d not eaten the cake so she’d left room for more pizza, but that was life.
She hadn’t known Marc was going to buy them food, so she was never going to turn down the chance to eat anything when they were up to their necks in an investigation.
Two officers had been sitting outside of Sharon Montgomery’s address on scene guard in case her parents tried to get into her house, or anyone else who could have a key.
Ben had told them all to get ready to do the search, and Cain had gone to look for the huge search bag where they kept all the evidence bags, protective clothing and anything else they may need.
Task force had finished for the day, so it was them or nothing.
As they were walking out to the cars in the rear yard of the station, Marc stopped. ‘We could leave this until tomorrow if you want. It’s late, it’s dark. As long as there’s officers outside all night it should be good.’
Ben shook his head. ‘No, boss. I think it needs to be searched now, especially knowing that Jack was one of the last people inside of the address with the victim. He’s telling us that everything was hunky dory, but what if it wasn’t?
What if they were arguing and he somehow manages to get inside and clean up any evidence? ’
‘That’s a lot of what if’s. Ben,’ said Marc.
‘It is, but I need to be able to finish tonight with a clear conscience that he was telling me the truth.’
‘Your call, Ben, I’m happy to do what you think. You know that PSD are going to storm in tomorrow and take over anyway, don’t you?’
Ben nodded. ‘That’s exactly why I’d like to get a look before they kick us off this part of the investigation.’
Morgan wasn’t sure if Ben was doing this because he still thought that Jack was one of them or if it was for Amy’s sake.
In Morgan’s opinion, Jack had given up the right to be classed as one of them the moment he started being a dick to Amy, and whatever mess he’d got himself into was purely his own fault.
She was tempted to tell Ben, but he knew, didn’t he?
Maybe he was hoping to find some damning evidence and get Jack locked up before anything else happened.
Sharon Montgomery lived in a pretty little cottage with a beautiful little front garden full of purple and white flowers.
The front door was purple too and Morgan wondered if she was a witch.
Her aunt Ettie had a purple front door. Morgan knew the lore that if a house had a purple door a witch lived inside, or was that just an Instagram lore?
She didn’t think it was; Ettie really was a kitchen witch.
Sharon drove a purple 4x4, maybe it was her favourite colour, or could she be into witchcraft?
Suddenly Morgan was keen to go inside and look around, see if she had shelves of books on witchcraft, plants and herbs on her windowsill and a crystal collection to be envious of.
Morgan had quite a collection now; she had found a couple of trusted sellers that sourced the most beautiful, ethical crystals.
Her latest was a beautiful clear quartz skull that Ben had bought her.
One day, when things slowed down a little, she was going to spend time with her aunt who had promised to teach her everything she knew.
That thought filled Morgan with a warmth that made her heart so happy.
There was a lot more to this life than anyone could figure out, and she had always been drawn to the witchy side of it.
‘So, Morgan, you take the upstairs with me; Cain and Marc, downstairs. Stan, you can check the rear garden, sheds, anything else.’
‘Yes, boss.’ Morgan snapped back to her current reality, pushing her thoughts of being the witch in the woods to one side. Oh, how she envied Ettie, she really was living the dream.
They all dressed in the white paper suits, boot covers and gloves, and Ben, who had retrieved the house key off Sharon’s car key fob, opened the door.
Stan had also been tasked with signing everyone in and out of the house, which he didn’t look so happy about, but he was the new guy, he had to do the crappy jobs.
God knows she’d done more than her fair share when she’d first joined Ben’s team.
Ben pointed to the door for her to go inside first. She paused on the doorstep and inhaled, the scent of lavender lingered in the air – there was nothing bad.
No underlying tinge of anything bad or decaying.
She reached in and switched on the hall light.
The cottage was bigger inside than it looked, and it was beautiful.
The entrance was a dusky pink with gold framed pictures hanging on the wall, a huge mirror and pine flooring.
On some floating shelves were stunning pink amethyst, rose quartz and clear quartz crystals.
A crushing wave of sadness washed over Morgan for Sharon whose life had been so violently ended; she was never coming home to this beautiful cottage.
‘I think we’re good to go. Please, be careful, it’s so pretty inside.
Cain, no clumsy fumbling of anything you don’t need to touch.
’ She wasn’t in charge, but she felt that, out of respect for Sharon, she should ensure they didn’t go in like bulls in a china shop and wreck the house more than they needed to.
She went upstairs, pausing to stare at the gallery wall of pictures, all of Sharon’s camping trips, beautiful views of the fells, mountains and lakes of the area.
Some of Sharon and her beloved 4x4, but mainly of the area surrounding her wild camping sites.
There were three doors off the landing: the first one she opened was the bathroom and that was spotless; the second door led into a small guest room with a single bed and a tiny pine table with Sharon’s MacBook on it.
They would seize that and get it sent off to the tech guys at headquarters; there were bookshelves and Morgan stepped further inside to look at the spines.
The Crystal Year , and Affirmations and Crystals by Claire Titmus, and The Witch’s Way Home by Emma Griffin were just a few that Morgan had on her own bookshelves, and she smiled to herself – she was right, Sharon was into the witchy way of life.
It also made her feel even sadder: who was going to take care of Sharon’s beautiful crystals and books?
She pulled open the small pine chest of drawers to look through it, but it was empty.
She really didn’t have much clutter, and Morgan respected that.
Maybe her main bedroom would be messier.
‘Anything?’
Ben’s voice startled her, and she shook her head. ‘Where have you looked?’
‘Bathroom, it’s clean, no blood spatters, or anything untoward.’
‘I’ll take Sharon’s bedroom.’ She walked towards the last door and opened it; this room was much bigger and a little more cluttered.
Some of the drawers were half open, the bed was a little messy, there was a stack of books on the bedside table and an empty bottle of water.
Over the back of a dark pink velvet chair was a pile of clothes.
Morgan thought this was more like it. She said a silent apology to Sharon before she began pulling out each drawer and looking through it, then she checked the bedside drawers, and the books in here made her smile too.
Sharon had a mixture of witchy fiction including Weyward , The Lost Apothecary , Practical Magic and The King’s Witches on her stack.
Morgan had read and loved all these books too.
There was a big, thick, black leather journal in the first drawer.
Morgan took it out and flicked through it.
Photos were taped inside, notes about books Sharon had enjoyed, places she wanted to go, a daily list of the three things she was most grateful for.
No notes about her relationships with anyone, nothing about finding her stepdad with her best friend, no mention of Jack White, or Eddy Lightburn turning up at her house.
Morgan continued looking around but found nothing else of interest to their investigation.
She went downstairs to where Cain and Ben were in the kitchen chatting. Ben looked her way.
‘Find anything?’
‘Nothing, she lived a pretty lovely life.’
‘Unless her friends tell us otherwise,’ said Cain. ‘I mean she can’t be perfect, can she? None of us is. She must have had some faults.’
‘Well, if she did, I’m not picking up on them. This house is beautiful. Her things are too, I reckon she was a good person with no dark secrets to hide. There’s no secret diary with the ramblings of a maniac inside of it.’
Ben nodded. ‘Where’s all her camping stuff though? I mean this isn’t a huge space, but it is a good-sized house for one person or a childless couple, but there’s no camping stuff, no outdoor gear.’
Stan appeared at the door. ‘It’s all in the shed. I had a wander around the back and she’s got a shed that I’d kill for.’
Morgan arched an eyebrow at him. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘It’s got all sorts of outdoor equipment, paddleboard, canoe, climbing gear, outdoor clothing, wetsuits, camping stoves, tables, tents, you name it she has it stacked out there and most of it is brand new.’
‘Did Sharon have another job, or do you think the bank of mum and dad have paid for all of this?’ asked Cain, and it was a legitimate question, but Morgan still found it a little rude.
‘She’s a YouTuber, some of them make a lot of money from the ads on their vlogs.’
Ben shrugged. ‘I have no idea about that, but we need to speak to someone to find out more of her background.’
‘Where is her camera stuff? Wouldn’t she have that with her if she was wild camping and filming it? I didn’t see it in that roof tent. Has the car been searched yet? Was it inside of there?’
Ben took out his phone. ‘Hang on, let me ring Wendy.’
‘Wendy, have you found any phone or cameras in the tent or car?’
He paused whilst she answered then replied. ‘Nothing like that. Okay, thanks.’ Pushing his phone back into his pocket, he said, ‘The killer must have taken them.’
‘There’s only one reason they took her phone and equipment; she must have them on camera.
So, she either knew who they were, or she caught them when she was filming and they’re not taking any chances.
Find the equipment and we’ve found the killer.
We can get her phone number off her parents or Jack and run a cell site analysis. ’
Marc came down the stairs with the MacBook in an evidence bag and the journal in another. He passed them to Cain. ‘Yes, Morgan, get onto Jack or her parents, please, and get her number, then get that rolling. Stan, show me the shed. Is there any camera equipment out there?’
Stan shook his head. ‘Not that I could find.’
Marc said, ‘I think you’re right; we find the camera we find the killer.
I also think this is a very good point; we’ve made a great start.
I would have liked to have had the suspect locked up by now, but this case has more complications than my grandad’s heart bypass so let’s finish up here, get the evidence booked in and call it a day.
You’re not going to be any good tomorrow if we keep on until the early hours, is that agreed? ’
‘Whatever you think, boss,’ replied Ben.
Morgan went outside to phone Caroline, the FLO, and passed on what Marc had suggested.
Caroline replied immediately and said she’d get the number from Beth who she was sitting with and get the cell site analysis started.
Morgan leaned her forehead against the cool brick wall and sighed.
She knew that they would keep on working all through the night if they had a definitive lead they could follow up on and have the killer in the cells, but Marc was right, there were far too many complications and different strands, and she was tired.
Her head was banging with a lack of either caffeine or water, probably both.
She was also on the verge of having a bit of a meltdown over everything because emotionally she felt wrecked and overwhelmed beyond belief.
Not that she was going to go home and switch off, it just wasn’t possible.