Whatever it was, it was dead; there was no mistaking the soul-sucking emptiness of it.
“There’s something dead upstairs,” I said aloud to Nic as I continued up the steps.
He caught my hand, causing me to pause near the top of the stairs. “Are you sure this is a good idea? She was your friend, Amber, maybe I should go first….”
I shook my head and plastered my best soldiering-on smile on my face. He was right, she was my friend, and I had already let her down once; I wouldn’t do it again. If it was her body upstairs, then I would do the decent thing and find out what had happened; she deserved that, at least.
He let his hand fall away and I took the last couple of steps with legs that trembled. Every cell in my body urged me to turn tail and run but I moved down the hall towards the place where my magic had found the emptiness of death.
Pushing open the bedroom door, I prepared myself for the sight awaiting me. My eyes scanned the room quickly until they fell on the edge of a boot poking out from behind the bed. Crossing the room, a long breath whooshed out of me as my gaze fell on the body of a woman. The terrified look in her wide death-greyed eyes churned my stomach.
“It’s not her,” I said, as I felt more than heard Nic catch up to me.
“Then who is it?” he asked, his voice laden with the confusion I felt.
“I have no idea,” I said, crouching down next to the body. The woman held something in her hands, clutching it as if for dear life.
Slipping a pair of gloves from my pocket, I tugged them on and folded back her stiff fingers. The woman’s grip was unrelenting, similar to the hold death had on her body and soul.
“Do you always carry forensic gloves?” Nic asked.
“My job usually involves some kind of dead body; it makes sense to carry them. The day you don’t is the day you’ll find yourself wrist-deep fishing a vital piece of evidence from some sort of cavity in a corpse,” I said with a grunt of triumph as I ripped the flyer free.
“What’s it say?” Nic asked, and I could feel his body heat through my jacket as he leaned over my shoulder.
“It says, ‘maybe you should give me a chance to unfold it,’” I said irritably. There was something about having him so close to me that sent my brain into meltdown. Concentration went straight out the window and even the simply task of unfolding the sheet of paper without ripping it took a monumental effort.
Nic smiled at me as he gestured the act of sealing his lips. Sighing, I returned my attention to the pale yellow flyer and carefully opened it up. The woman’s grip had crushed the paper almost completely, but I smoothed it out against the floor and the words were still readable.
“A bake sale?” Nic said, but it wasn’t the promise of cakes and pastries that interested me.
“It’s the same church Mia said she saw something at. See the address,” I said, pointing to St Anne’s church name and the small symbol across the top of the leaflet.
“Would your friend have gone back there?” Nic said, moving over to the body on the floor to take a closer look.
“I wouldn’t have thought so, but it’s been a while since I saw Mia, so maybe she’s changed….”
“Enough to have murdered a woman?” Nic asked pointedly.
I shook my head, although, if I was honest, I wasn’t sure anymore. I didn’t know Mia now. I wouldn’t have imagined her house looking like a complete dive, so she’d clearly deteriorated.
It was my fault.
“I really don’t know. I don’t think so, but,” I gestured to our surroundings, the piles of boxes, stacks of newspapers, rubbish, and the thick coat of dust that had settled across every stick of furniture in the room; “clearly I don’t know her as well as I once did,” I said, with a sigh.
“Why do I get the impression you’re not telling me something?” Nic asked.
“Because you’re a know-it-all,” I said, pushing up onto my feet.
“Ouch.” He feigned hurt, clutching
“There’s something dead upstairs,” I said aloud to Nic as I continued up the steps.
He caught my hand, causing me to pause near the top of the stairs. “Are you sure this is a good idea? She was your friend, Amber, maybe I should go first….”
I shook my head and plastered my best soldiering-on smile on my face. He was right, she was my friend, and I had already let her down once; I wouldn’t do it again. If it was her body upstairs, then I would do the decent thing and find out what had happened; she deserved that, at least.
He let his hand fall away and I took the last couple of steps with legs that trembled. Every cell in my body urged me to turn tail and run but I moved down the hall towards the place where my magic had found the emptiness of death.
Pushing open the bedroom door, I prepared myself for the sight awaiting me. My eyes scanned the room quickly until they fell on the edge of a boot poking out from behind the bed. Crossing the room, a long breath whooshed out of me as my gaze fell on the body of a woman. The terrified look in her wide death-greyed eyes churned my stomach.
“It’s not her,” I said, as I felt more than heard Nic catch up to me.
“Then who is it?” he asked, his voice laden with the confusion I felt.
“I have no idea,” I said, crouching down next to the body. The woman held something in her hands, clutching it as if for dear life.
Slipping a pair of gloves from my pocket, I tugged them on and folded back her stiff fingers. The woman’s grip was unrelenting, similar to the hold death had on her body and soul.
“Do you always carry forensic gloves?” Nic asked.
“My job usually involves some kind of dead body; it makes sense to carry them. The day you don’t is the day you’ll find yourself wrist-deep fishing a vital piece of evidence from some sort of cavity in a corpse,” I said with a grunt of triumph as I ripped the flyer free.
“What’s it say?” Nic asked, and I could feel his body heat through my jacket as he leaned over my shoulder.
“It says, ‘maybe you should give me a chance to unfold it,’” I said irritably. There was something about having him so close to me that sent my brain into meltdown. Concentration went straight out the window and even the simply task of unfolding the sheet of paper without ripping it took a monumental effort.
Nic smiled at me as he gestured the act of sealing his lips. Sighing, I returned my attention to the pale yellow flyer and carefully opened it up. The woman’s grip had crushed the paper almost completely, but I smoothed it out against the floor and the words were still readable.
“A bake sale?” Nic said, but it wasn’t the promise of cakes and pastries that interested me.
“It’s the same church Mia said she saw something at. See the address,” I said, pointing to St Anne’s church name and the small symbol across the top of the leaflet.
“Would your friend have gone back there?” Nic said, moving over to the body on the floor to take a closer look.
“I wouldn’t have thought so, but it’s been a while since I saw Mia, so maybe she’s changed….”
“Enough to have murdered a woman?” Nic asked pointedly.
I shook my head, although, if I was honest, I wasn’t sure anymore. I didn’t know Mia now. I wouldn’t have imagined her house looking like a complete dive, so she’d clearly deteriorated.
It was my fault.
“I really don’t know. I don’t think so, but,” I gestured to our surroundings, the piles of boxes, stacks of newspapers, rubbish, and the thick coat of dust that had settled across every stick of furniture in the room; “clearly I don’t know her as well as I once did,” I said, with a sigh.
“Why do I get the impression you’re not telling me something?” Nic asked.
“Because you’re a know-it-all,” I said, pushing up onto my feet.
“Ouch.” He feigned hurt, clutching
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