The Secret Path by Karen Swan (summer beach reads TXT) 📕

“Glad to see you made it through the night without choking to death on your own sick,” a feminine voice cut through my thoughts, thick with a Scottish accent. McCall? I turned my upper body around to see. There she stood, dressed and in her usual suit. She had settled her hair down in a style which suited her immensely.

A throbbing sensation pulsated across my head, beginning at my temples. “Ah,” I winced, fingers aiding their cry for help. McCall brought through a glass of much-appreciated water for me.

“You look like crap,” McCall grinned her plumped pink lips. “You don’t remember, do you?” McCall pushed my legs to the right side of the couch and perched herself on the end, watching me.

I stared right back, awaiting some form of recollection.

“If I was to say Georgina Ryder, would that remind you?” she wondered.

Ah.

I could tell by the look on McCall’s face that I’d told her about my non-kiss moment. I shook my head and sunk back onto her cushions, closing my eyes in the hope that our world would fade away.

McCall waltzed into her open-plan kitchen, spotting my attitude from a million miles away. She flipped the bacon, making it sizzle even more.

“You need to get up, Finlay,” she commanded. “You’ll get crucified if you walk into the office like that. The bathroom is on the left, towels and spare toothbrushes in the cupboard.”

I felt ancient. All my bones had seized up from sleep. I plodded along to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I fiddled with the shower tap and managed to get only cold water pouring out.

Whilst fumbling around for a towel, I located a toothbrush at the same time though a few of McCall’s things were in the way. Makeup, skincare products. I saw into her daily life, the things which made her human.

I wouldn’t say I liked it.

I shut the cupboard doors shut with a shiver, lumbering my oaf of a body into McCall’s tiny shower, giving me no choice but to wake up. That bacon smell infiltrated the bathroom, so I made sure to get changed as soon as possible.

“It’s on the table,” McCall pointed towards breakfast displayed on a glass table for two, with matching chairs. Next to my plate, she’d put a steaming mug of coffee and two tablets of aspirin. Those were my first port of call. McCall must have hung my suit jacket on the back of her chair for it was close enough to reach. I tugged my aviators out from a pocket, obscuring my vision with their tinted lenses.

“How did you know I was at the pub last night?” I asked. She chewed some more, biding her time wisely. I knew her well enough to know she was hiding something.

“I was on my way home. After your argument with DCI Campbell, I thought some more about what you had to say--” she began but was interrupted by my phone vibrating on the table. It showed up with a work ID.

“Hello?” I answered it groggily, hearing DCI Campbell’s voice emit sternly.

“DI Cooper, come over to Bogend woods, now. Get hold of McCall too. I think you’ll both want to have a look at this,” he instructed before hanging up.

McCall widened her eyes as if to say ‘what?’ We were supposed to be debriefing at the office today, not go out on a wildlife hunt.

“We have to go,” I said firmly. I was already up and grabbing my jacket, much to my distaste. A day at home would be just what the doctor ordered.

Still, duty called… in the voice of DCI Campbell.

McCall drove us to Bogend, and we mulled over what could have happened so urgently. I kept my sunglasses, although it had been predicted rain. Upon entering Bogend Woods, we saw a pile-up of police cars. Blue lights bounced from all the trees to create an eerie, cinematic effect. I clambered along behind my partner, twigs snapping underfoot. It smelt fresh, like grass and wet mud. The air was clean and easy to breathe out there.

DC Taylor was glad to be out of our office and amidst all the action. He waved solemnly to McCall, and they joined together in discussion. What happened all became obvious when I entered the clearing, at least on the surface.

“As you can see, Cooper,” DCI Campbell narrated, “three dead animals. Stabbed to death. Abbey Aston came across them this morning when walking her dog through the clearing.” DCI Campbell pointed to the young woman, who winked at me when DCI Campbell couldn’t see. She had short and dyed red hair, nothing compared to McCall’s natural mane.

I gazed on at our crime scene in confusion. None of it made sense. Three sheep, who had probably wandered across from some farmer’s field, had been killed and hung up by their legs with rope. Blood still dripped from their wounds. Their small faces were lifeless and perverse with agony. Not far away was an old dustbin, charred and still emitting wisps of smoke.

“What’s that?” I questioned slowly, pretending to be entirely sober.

“That’s the reason I called you two in. Look inside.”

I did as I was told. Burned fibres and wood remained in the bottom from a bunch of charred clothes. My hangover meant I was slow on the uptake that day.

“Clothes?” I asked.

“Clothes, exactly.” DCI Campbell raised his untrimmed eyebrows at me. “Whoever set up this elaborate scene left behind no weapons, but something more important. They needed something to start the fire.” The Guv’s tone changed to include an element of triumph. He brought up a clear plastic bag from behind his back, waving it in my face.

Matches. The same kind which were discarded in the shed, next to the sailing club.

Our killer had come to burn his evidence. But why advertise in such a unique way? Hungry, maybe, I kid myself. The animals caught my glimpse again, and I noted the rope that trussed them up was the same