Page 20

Chapter

Fourteen

N o matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t connect the dots and work out what Rory Taggert and Knox Thunderstick had to do with each other. However, I knew that Knox’s surreptitious jaunt to the mortuary and then his subsequent murder couldn’t be a coincidence.

‘Shall I come in with you?’ Thane asked quietly when we finally reached Pork Pies’ glass door.

The interior was brightly lit and welcoming, which only made me feel worse. ‘You’ve been banned.’

He ran a hand across his short copper hair. ‘I expect Knox Thunderstick’s sister will make an exception under the circumstances.’

It would be easier with him by my side, but unfortunately there would probably be a confrontation before I could even start to tell Harriet what had happened. ‘It’s better if I speak to her alone,’ I said with a heavy heart.

Thane expelled a long breath. ‘Very well. I’ll wait out here.’

Reluctantly, I walked into the café. Harriet was behind the counter, a clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other as she marked off stock. She started to smile in greeting when she saw me, but her grin faded when she registered my expression. ‘You found Knox.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘Can we talk in the back?’ I asked. This would be better without an audience and there were several customers.

Harriet had turned deathly pale. ‘No. Tell me here. Tell me where he is.’

‘Harriet—’

Her hands clenched into tight fists. ‘Tell me!’

Shit. I half-closed my eyes then opened them again; she deserved my full gaze.

This was an aspect of death that I’d never experienced. I’d never had to be this person before and I didn’t want to be this person now. ‘We went to his house. We knocked on his door and then we heard a gunshot.’

Harriet didn’t make a sound.

I swallowed. ‘We broke in. Knox’s bedroom door was barricaded by a wardrobe. It took a bit of time to shove it open. When we did…’

She was already reaching for her coat. ‘He’s dead, then.’ Her voice was flat.

‘Yes. I’m sorry. Somebody killed him.’

‘Did you see who did it?’

‘No. We tried to find him but he’d gone.’

‘The werewolf couldn’t track his scent?’

I sucked in a breath. ‘For a short distance, but not far enough to catch up with him.’ There seemed little point in telling her about the hammam. It was information she didn’t need, not right now.

Harriet pushed past me and headed for the door. I grabbed her arm. ‘No, don’t go.’

‘I have to see him for myself.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘You don’t.’

Anguish dulled her eyes. ‘It’s bad?’ she whispered. I managed a nod. She stared at me for a long moment. ‘I still have to see him.’

It was a terrible idea but at the end of the day it was her choice. I couldn’t physically hold her back. ‘Then let us come with you,’ I offered.

‘Do whatever the fuck you want.’ Harriet pulled away from me and marched out of the café.

Harriet resolutely ignored us both as she ran at high speed, still wearing an apron branded with the Pork Pies logo underneath her coat.

Knox Thunderstick’s house was lit up like a beacon by the time we reached it.

There were uniformed MET officers, several hovering Redcaps, and three very stern-looking tattooed officials who were doubtless from the druids’ board of governors.

I wasn’t surprised; even if Knox’s neighbours hadn’t heard the gunshot, someone passing would have seen the broken window and checked on him; it was that sort of neighbourhood and we already knew that he was held in high esteem.

That was good, I decided. These were the sort of people who would be equipped to deal with Harriet’s grief in a way that I wasn’t.

One of the druids crooked his finger towards the Redcaps and told them they could remove the body. Harriet ran towards them. ‘Where is he?’ she shrieked, her high-pitched cry reverberating through me with its uncontained pain. ‘Where is my brother?’

The druid official frowned. ‘You’re not one of us,’ he said, his powers of observation at her lack of tattoos leading him to state the bloody obvious.

‘He’s my foster brother,’ Harriet snarled. ‘Let me through. I want to see him! ’

There were several mutters and dubious glances then another voice cut in from slightly further away. ‘She’s telling the truth. They grew up together – they’re siblings in everything but blood.’

I glanced across and saw the singer from the Blue Tattoos; he must have come to the house in search of Knox. I hoped for his sake that he hadn’t gone inside and seen his friend’s body. He was a young druid and that sort of image could scar him for life.

The druids nodded, then approached Harriet and spoke to her quietly before taking her into the house. I flinched involuntarily and Thane shuddered. ‘We have to make this right,’ he said. ‘For her sake.’

‘I’m not convinced anything will make this right,’ I replied. With heavy footsteps, I approached the singer. ‘I’m so sorry about your friend.’

He stared at me. ‘You were at Pork Pies earlier,’ he said numbly. ‘You brought Harriet here?’

‘Yeah.’ I indicated Thane who had joined us. ‘We came looking for Knox and…’ My voice trailed off. What could I say? That we’d found his dead, tortured body? That we’d chased after his killer and let them get away? I sighed. ‘I’m sorry,’ I repeated lamely.

‘He didn’t deserve this,’ the druid said.

I still had no idea what to say; I’d have made a terrible grief counsellor. Thankfully Thane wasn’t as witless as I was. ‘I heard you mention at Pork Pies that Knox hadn’t turned up for your rehearsal yesterday,’ he said.

‘Huh? Oh, that was because of some stupid witch. I caught up with him last night. He must have been killed today,’ he said, misunderstanding Thane’s reason for the comment. ‘We were together last night.’

He’d caught my attention. ‘A witch?’ I asked .

‘Some daft idiot from the council asking questions about one of Knox’s old mates. He spent all morning interrogating Knox, wouldn’t let him leave.’ He shrugged, unable to muster up much interest in what had happened the previous day given the events of today.

Shivers were already running down my spine. ‘Who?’

‘Dunno. He wanted to know about someone Knox used to knock about with at school. Knox didn’t tell me who.’

I didn’t take my eyes away from the singer. ‘Who was the witch? Who was asking all those questions?’

He shrugged again. ‘Knox told me his name but…’ His nose wrinkled. ‘Nah, can’t remember it.’

My skin prickled as my thoughts raced.

I heard a vaguely familiar voice. ‘That’s them. That’s the couple who stopped by Knox’s house a couple of hours ago.’ It was the troll, the one who lived opposite Knox. He was pointing at us and frowning.

Two burly MET officers marched forward. ‘Hands in the air!’ one of them yelled.

‘Stay where you are!’ shouted the other. ‘You’re under arrest!’

Seriously? ‘We didn’t kill him,’ Thane protested. ‘We found him.’

‘Are you the ones who made the anonymous report about his body?’

Thane’s eyes narrowed. ‘Anonymous report? What anonymous report?’

Both MET officers glared. ‘If you didn’t make the report then you must have killed him.’

What kind of screwed-up logic was that? ‘If we killed him,’ I said, irritated, ‘why would we come back to the scene of the crime?’

‘That’s what killers do,’ the first MET idiot said.

Not the professional ones or the ones with an ounce of sense. ‘You’ve been reading too many crime novels.’

‘I’m a trained officer,’ he sniffed. ‘I’ve done all the courses.’

Yeah, yeah.

The second MET man scratched his chin. ‘She doesn’t look like a killer.’

‘Thank you,’ I said.

His colleague rolled his eyes. ‘Anyone can be a killer. Besides,’ he gestured to Thane, ‘the wolf might have done it.’ He looked at me. ‘Has he coerced you into joining him on a killing spree?’

For fuck’s sake. This was ridiculous.

The man pursed his lips. ‘We’ll find out more when we interrogate you down at the station.

’ He snapped a pair of handcuffs on Thane’s wrists then did the same to me.

I smarted with embarrassment; in all my years as an assassin I had never been arrested.

Never . And yet now I was being dragged away when I’d not actually done anything.

The druid singer snapped his fingers. ‘Wait!’ We all looked at him. ‘I remember his name now,’ he said. ‘It was Jackson. That was the witch who questioned Knox yesterday. Daniel Jackson.’

My stomach dropped. I was still staring at the druid when the MET officers hauled both Thane and me down the street.

I hoped that we’d be interviewed as soon as we arrived at the MET lock-up; I wanted to clear my name as quickly as possible so I could get out and find Fetch Jackson.

I’d known the bastard witch was suspicious, but the fact that he’d tracked down Knox Thunderstick a full day before he’d identified Rory Taggert’s body made him suspect numero uno.

He had questions to answer. Hard questions.

There was every likelihood that he’d killed Knox.

I couldn’t imagine why, but I couldn’t shake the thought now that it had been planted.

Instead of being taken to an interview room, Thane and I were shoved unceremoniously into a cold cell. ‘Hey!’ I protested. ‘This isn’t right! Just interview us and let us go!’

Thane added his voice to my complaints. ‘We’ve done nothing wrong. The faster you clear us, the faster you can get out there and find the real killer.’

‘We’ve contacted Captain Montgomery,’ the MET officer said. ‘He’s been selected as lead investigator for this case. When he arrives, he will question you.’

‘When will that be?’ I demanded.

The answer was annoyingly smug. ‘When he gets here.’

‘I’m a single parent,’ I yelled through the bars. ‘I’ve got a family to feed!’ I pointed to Thane. ‘He’s the same! Our kids will be hungry!’

‘You should have thought of that before you murdered an innocent druid.’ The officer spun on his heel and stalked off. So much for innocent until proven guilty.