A Reason to Kill by Jane A. Adams Read Free Book Online

Eden and the photographer discussed additional shots, distracting his mind with detail as his gaze took in the state of the body lying at his feet. Mrs Freer’s head had been snapped back at an angle not possible in life. Mac didn’t need to be told that her neck was broken. She stared at him, chin too high, back of the head too close to the opposite shoulder, so that she seemed to be straining to look back at someone standing behind her. Blood had pooled beside the ruined mouth, the fragile cheek broken by a blow that had caved it inward. Hair matted with blood.
    â€˜He must have grabbed her arms,’ Eden said. ‘Look at the bruising.’
    Black marks stood out against white skin. Old flesh bruised easily, Mac thought, but even allowing for that the grip must have been cruelly strong.
    Abruptly he stood up, marched outside, no longer caring who noticed or who commented. He stood outside the door trying to breathe, though his chest felt so tight that he could draw no air into his lungs and a red haze came down across his eyes.
    No, he couldn’t faint. He couldn’t shame himself quite so completely.
    Someone took his arm and he heard Eden’s voice, felt himself being tugged slowly away from the door. Eden got him into the car and handed him what was left of the now cold coffee.
    â€˜Drink it up, caffeine will help. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.’
    Automatically, Mac moved to obey, grimacing at the chilled and sour taste. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what happened.’
    Eden held up a hand to silence him. ‘It’s the first one, isn’t it? First time since that little girl.’
    Mac blinked. ‘You know about that? Of course you do. Everyone knows.’
    â€˜Not everyone, but I read your file and then I made a few discreet phone calls. I like to know who I’m working with.’
    Mac laughed harshly.
    â€˜And you know what everyone told me? To a man they said that you were a good copper. The right sort. That you blamed yourself for summat no one could help. Lad, you could have had an army on that beach and that bastard still would have done the same. There’d still have been blood on the sand and that little girl lying dead. Only thing you did wrong, that is if we’re going to be finding fault, is that you didn’t get off after him fast enough.’
    â€˜I went to her,’ Mac said. ‘I wanted to see if …’
    â€˜If a miracle had happened and you could do anything to save her. Lad, it would have been obvious to a blind man that she was dead even before she hit the ground, but you know, I suspect that most of us would have done the same. What you did was misjudged, but it was human and I’d rather work with a human being anytime.’
    Mac swallowed the last of the coffee. ‘Thanks,’ he said.
    â€˜What for? You ready to go back inside?’
    Mac nodded.
    â€˜You take the upstairs, see what else she had, and I’ll supervise the removal.’
    â€˜I’m all right now,’ Mac protested.
    â€˜I don’t doubt that you are,’ Eden told him. ‘Just to make sure, you’ll be attending the autopsy, but for now …’
    Mac nodded and got out of the car, waited while Eden eased his bulk through the door.
    â€˜Next of kin,’ he asked, slipping back into the minutiae that kept his thinking under control.
    â€˜Next thing we’ve got to find,’ Eden said.
    The bedrooms had been layered in dust. In places, Mac could still make out the strata. Thick fluff settling to the bottom and clinging to the carpet; progressively finer sprinklings powdered over time, creating a veil of spider-silk grey across the boxes and the bed, the dressing table and the matching lamps that stood on white bedside tables either side of a pine bed.
    A quick glance into the second room told him that it had been used for storage and, judging from the uncarpeted floor