SEVEN DEADLY THINGS (Henry & Sparrow Book 3) by A FOX (new ebook reader .txt) 📕

late friend’s feet. ‘It’s… glue,’ she whispered. ‘Someone put glue between his toes. What the holy fuck?’

‘Someone webbed his feet,’ said Lucas. ‘Like frogs’ feet.’

‘And someone filled Julie up with lard,’ said Kate. ‘And made Martin write an apology on a sanitary towel.’

‘Um… there’s that too,’ said Lucas, pointing to a child’s blue rubber flipper resting on the bathroom window sill. On it, the words “I’M SORRY’ were jaggedly scrawled in red marker pen.

He turned and scrutinised her pale face. ‘There’s got to be some serious backstory to this,’ he said. ‘Kate… what the hell did you all do seven years ago?’

24

‘Say sorry.’

‘What? Why? I mean… what for?’

Once again — no memory. It was staggering and it made the fury rise up another notch. Justified all the effort, the expense, the planning.

‘You don’t even remember me, do you? Much less her.’

‘Look… can we talk about this? Please. Let’s just sit down and talk.’

‘Wouldn’t that have been nice? It’s a bit too late now, though.’

There was panic building; darting eyes; wild thoughts of escape. It was laughable. Pitiful. If you had any pity left in you.

‘Look… whatever it was I did, I am sorry.’

‘Good. Write it down.’

‘On that?’

‘Yes. On that.’

Afterwards there was more confusion… and once again a total lack of recognition.

‘Take your clothes off.’

‘What?!’

‘You heard me. Take them off.’

‘Look… you don’t want to do this!’

‘You have no idea what I want or don’t want. Take them off. And then put this on.’

The utter bafflement was entertaining to watch. The yellow dress hung between them, crumpled and snagged. Even in the midst of great fear, there was disdain on her face.

‘Is it not fashionable enough for you? Don’t you like it?’

‘No — no, it’s… nice.’

‘You didn’t think so before. I think you said… “It looks like a half-chewed lemon bonbon”. Put it on. Let’s see how it looks on you. Give me a twirl.’

The dress was put on. The twirl was shakily given.

‘Don’t forget to tie up the bow around the neck.’

‘I have… it’s tied.’

‘I don’t think so. I don’t think it’s tied tight enough…’

25

Kate pulled the sliding glass door closed behind her, relocked it with her pick, and stared at Lucas, shaking her head. ‘You can’t be here,’ she said. ‘I’m calling it in. You have to go.’

‘No way,’ he said. ‘I’m not leaving you on your own. Whoever did that is still around. Still on this site. And you could be next on the list.’

‘Look, it’s broad daylight. I’ll be fine.’ She gulped. She did not feel fine. She’d seen some nasty crime scenes but none of them had been so personal to her. Within twenty-four hours she had found the bodies of two of her old friends in the most ugly, bizarre dioramas of death. ‘Honestly, Lucas, I cannot drop you into this — not again. I’m just going to tell them I was worrying about whether Bill had really gone, and I broke in to check. Which is the truth. There’s no reason to involve you. It’ll only get complicated.’

‘Look, as soon as you report in you’re going to be bogged down in procedure for hours,’ he said. ‘And there may not be hours before… before this killer kills again. Or gets away.’

She groaned into her palms, caught between the need to race away with him and hunt down their killer… and the need to report in and get the Suffolk coppers on the scene. She had always respected procedure. Always clung to its secure framework as much as possible… well, until she’d met Lucas Henry last year.

She reached a decision. She walked away from the chalet and waited until they were on the main path through the site to call the number for DS Stuart. She prayed it would go to voicemail and her prayers were answered when it did. ‘Hi, DS Stuart..? It’s Kate Sparrow. Um… I don’t know if you’re aware of this but one of our number — Bill Lassiter — left the site last night. At least… it seems like he did. We checked with reception this morning and his car’s gone, but I’m worried because we haven’t raised him since. He hasn’t answered his phone or his texts. Could one of your guys get into his chalet? It’s number 158. Just to… put our minds at rest that he really has gone..? I knocked and tried the door and there’s no reply, but even so… if your guys could check and let us know I’d be grateful. Thanks. I’ll see you at two.’

‘Well, that’ll explain your prints all over the door handle,’ said Lucas as Kate ended the call. ‘Just hope we didn’t leave any traces inside.’

She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and shook her head. ‘Everyone leaves a trace… but we might get away with it. Especially if we find this bastard. So, let’s get on it. Where do we go now? What’s Sid telling you?’

Lucas stood, suspending the blue glass stopper and focusing. Kate tried to piggyback on that focus, without much success. She was fizzing with adrenaline and anger and fear; her heart pounding, ready for fight or flight. Should she be phoning all the others? Warning them? But that would mean she would have to tell them the truth about Bill… and she’d just set up a lie with the Suffolk police which her friends would surely blow open later on when they were interviewed. She knew they were sticking together, so they ought to be safe, surely? And she was in no hurry to give them yet more horrifying news.

It also hadn’t escaped her attention that in DS Stuart’s position, she might very well start to view the woman who’d discovered both crime scenes as a prime suspect. It wasn’t unknown for a killer to present themselves as an innocent, stumbling upon the body. Shit. They needed to get this bastard fast, before she got hopelessly entangled in someone else’s case.

‘We need to go,’ said Lucas, raising a pale face to hers,