Page 59

Pember shivered as he stood at the base of what was now a relic of a time long passed. The structure had held up, and the cylindrical chimney in the centre was still very much upright. But the wood-framed windows had long since blown, leaving moss and ivy to conquer the crumbling brickwork.

“Well, that was fucking harrowing,” Blake said, stepping out of the van with all the grace of a baby gazelle.

Pember huffed, yanking open the sliding door to pull out a metal briefcase. “Be quiet. We don’t all have the luxury of driving around in swanky cars.”

Rapping his knuckles on the bonnet, Blake scowled. “This thing made more noise than a marble in a tin can.”

Pember shrugged. “Duncan forgets to strap the equipment down sometimes.”

Sliding the door shut, Pember walked around the van and joined Blake on the dusty concrete loading bay. “She’s in there?” he said, looking up at the alpha.

“Yes, down an old storage chute. Caitlin’s managing the outer cordon; we’ll be on the inside with the Falkington officers.”

There were a dozen other officers on the scene, and they all moved slowly, almost carefully as they set out the cordon and secured the area.

Pember felt sick. “That doesn’t seem right,” he said, shaking his head. “The others… The other murders were so public. Like some kind of show.”

“We’ll know more once we get inside.” Blake turned to look at him. “Are you sure you’re up to this? It’s one thing processing a dead stranger, it’s another entirely seeing someone you know.”

Pember swallowed and straightened his back. “Right back at you.”

They walked towards the mill, the air becoming thick, almost cloying with the stale stench of dust and rotting wood. It was a smell wholly unique to old buildings, but one, Pember suspected, that would be a lasting reminder of what they were about to witness.

Would he ever be able to visit another National Trust site without being reminded of Samantha’s murder? Probably not.

Nervous energy twisted his gut and made his wolf uneasy. He pressed a hand to his belly.

Falkington CID were already waiting for them, coat collars raised and eyes down.

“Afternoon,” Blake said, towering over a pretty, dark-haired woman in a tan overcoat.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, her gaze trailing down his chest and hovering over his badge. “Oh, you must be the West Newton DS. Nice to meet you, I’m DC Isla Wilson.”

She took Blake’s hand and shook it, even though it wasn’t offered.

She held on to it for a fraction too long.

Pember jammed his tongue into his cheek.

He couldn’t tell if it was a come-on, or if she was just socially awkward.

Either way, he had the urge to step on pretty little DC Isla Wilson’s pump-clad toes.

He swallowed, ignoring the unreasonable bodily reaction, and held out his own hand for shaking. “Pember McArthur. Forensics,” he said, taking her hand and shaking it a touch too aggressively.

She blinked, looking as though she’d only just noticed his presence.

“Shall we?” Pember said, doing his best not to scowl.

“O-oh, yes! This way,” she said, holding out a hand towards the far end of the mill. A group of forensic officers stood together, holding clipboards, in white scene suits.

Blake chuckled quietly overhead, looking down at him with an eyebrow raised. A flush rose up Pember’s neck, and he hung back behind the two of them as they wandered through the mill.

He ran his eyes over the huge looms either side of the central walkway. The weaving strings had long since rotted, but the dark wooden frames remained. As did the musty smell of sheep.

“Sorry about that,” Isla said, suddenly dropping back and bumping his shoulder. “It’s my first real crime scene and I’m nervous as hell.”

She looked at him with the same wide-eyed expression she’d given Blake, and Pember realised he’d just been a total fucking arse-hat. Letting out a breath, he smiled. “It’s okay, just do your best.”

She gave him a grateful look. “I will. Oop, sorry! Inner cordon,” she said, jumping in front of Blake. “Do you have a scene suit?”

Pember snorted, bending down to pull an XXL forensic suit from within his hard case. He grinned at Blake as he slapped it against his chest, giving Isla the thumbs up.

When they were changed, Isla swept an arm under the scene tape and let them through.

Their footsteps changed from the slap against stone to dull thudding over centuries-old wood.

The atmosphere immediately shifted. Gone was the stuffy nervousness of everyone around—now the only thing Pember felt was impending dread.

A wooden trapdoor sat propped open with a metal bar in the middle of the room, a collection of yellow evidence markers dotted around its entrance.

Despite the afternoon sunlight pouring in from the multitude of holes in the slate roof, the trapdoor looked almost like a black hole. Nothing. No light.

No life.

The smell of death was strangely absent, eclipsed by the overwhelming stench of dust mites.

Pember stared at the hatch, unable to tear his eyes away as it seemed to stare back. Samantha was down there. Cold. Alone. He may not have known her well. May not have even liked her. But no one deserved that fate.

“Ah! West Newton.”

Pember snapped out of his thoughts as a man in a scene suit put down his clipboard and walked towards them.

“We’ve got a slight problem.”

Blake grunted, inclining his head. “Yes?”

The man pulled down his blue mask, revealing a large nose and ruddy cheeks.

“We want to sample the body in situ. But with how it’s placed, we can’t send someone through the trap door without a major forensic disturbance.

It’s a mess down there. If we try to pull the body up, the dust and wool fibres will stick to every inch of it, contaminating our samples. ”

“Samantha,” Blake said, pulling up his own mask. “Not it. Her name is Samantha and she’s one of ours.”

“O-oh, yes. Of course, I?—”

Blake let out a breath and strode towards the trapdoor. Pember kept his eyes glued to his back, watching as he dropped his gaze and touched the top of his head as though doffing his cap in respect. Without even thinking, Pember did the same.

Blake hung over the hole for a moment, his shoulders unbearably tense. Pember let out a sharp breath and went to his side.

And there she was.

It was impossible to see much in the dark, but the top of her white-blonde bob was unmistakable in the gloom. “She’s so far down,” Pember whispered, pressing himself against Blake’s arm.

Blake returned the touch. “I know. There’s no ladder. They must’ve thrown her down.” Blake clenched his teeth, and for the first time since they’d arrived a flicker of emotion stretched across his face. “Fucking animals,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Hey,” Pember whispered, squeezing his arm. “We’ll get her out.”

Blake dropped his head. “How? You heard what he said. We’ll lose everything if we try to lift her.”

Sucking his teeth, and still clutching Blake’s arm, Pember turned back towards the Falkington officers. To his surprise, they were watching them in silence.

“Um, is there another way down?”

The same man as before tugged at his mask and stepped forward.

“Yeah. There’s a second chute over there,” he said pointing to a hatch in the adjacent room.

“There’s a few of them dotted about. Big enough to stand up in the chutes, but you’d have to crawl through the tunnels to reach the ones without ladders.

That one over there has an old iron ladder.

They’re all interconnected, but the crawl space is tiny. We’ll never get our equipment down.”

Pember let go of Blake and walked towards the next hatch along.

The space was big enough for a small adult, but only just. Unclipping a torch from his belt, he bent down and shone a light into the shaft.

The beam reflected off the dusty floor, revealing a tiny three foot by three foot hole. A tunnel.

“What if we didn’t have to send all our equipment down?” Pember said, assessing the width of the hole. “Just one person with one bag of swabs. You could lower the camera through the other hatch.”

The other forensics officers glanced at one another, shuffling awkwardly and shaking their heads. “We could,” one of them said. “But it’s too dangerous. We don’t know how stable the tunnel is.”

“I’m claustrophobic,” said another, covering his chest with a hand.

“And I have thyroid issues,” said another.

Pember sighed and rose to his feet. “I’ll do it.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Blake said, pulling off his mask and striding towards him.

Without another word he gripped Pember’s arm, pulling him back through the scene tape and out into the open air.

“Blake!” Pember growled, yanking his arm free. “I can?—”

“No.”

It wasn’t a request, or a plea. It was a command. One that made his wolf whimper.

Pember folded his arms, stepping away from the alpha. “You don’t think I can do it?”

Blake breathed through his nose and unzipped his scene suit. “I know you can do it. That’s what worries me. You don’t have anything to prove, and I’m not letting you do something they aren’t willing to do themselves. Will I fit?”

Pember snorted, shaking his head. “They aren’t making me do anything, and no. ”

“Absolutely not. You don’t know how unstable the tunnel is. It could collapse on top of you.”

Pember’s jaw pulled tight. “The building’s centuries old. If it hasn’t collapsed yet, it’s not going to today.”

“You don’t even know if it’s open. You could get down there only to find it’s blocked.”

“Erm, it’s not blocked,” someone said from behind. “We lowered a camera?—”

“Back off,” Blake spat as they both whirled around to find the Falkington officers huddled behind them. “Can’t you see I’m trying to have a conversation with my ma?—”

Pember looked at Blake, and Blake looked at Pember.

“Colleague,” Blake said, awkwardly clearing his throat.

The Falkington officers backed away, retreating into the mill.

Pember sniffed. “Bloody space invaders.”

Blake touched his thumb to Pember’s chin. “Please don’t do it. I’ll never forgive myself if you get hurt.” He drew Pember under his arm, silence falling between them. They both looked out over the West Newton countryside, across the rolling landscape and patchwork hills.

“She’s one of ours. They won’t do her justice like we will,” Pember said.

Blake sighed, pressing his fingers to his right eye. “You’re going to be the death of me, Pember.”

Pember pressed his lips together, tapping Blake’s chest. “Did you put your monitor on?”

Grimacing, Blake nodded.

“Well, then. I’ll make sure someone’s on standby with the defib.”

He was only half joking.