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SOPHIE LEANED AGAINST the cold stone beside the window and enjoyed the view in the shadowy courtyard. She knew better than to play with the staff but Morgan . . . tugged at her. Yes, with that athletic form and long blonde hair all on display in the footlights, she was a juicy dinner in front of a ravaged lion, and the lion was sick of starving herself.
“Sophie,” Edwina called from the foot of the stairs. By the tone of her voice, it wasn’t something pleasant. When was it ever? “Sophie, we need to call the police. Morgan has the tapes they need and she may have found where the girl was killed. I have left a message on the detective’s phone.”
Sophie raised her eyebrow, gaze still rolling over Morgan who shifted on her feet like she could feel she was being watched. Her right hand clung to her belt, her prosthesis flexed ready for action.
Edwina cleared her throat.
Sophie sighed and pulled her gaze away. “What would you like, a medal?”
“No, I’d like to reassure the staff that you haven’t killed anyone.” Edwina held up newspapers and waved them about. “Isn’t it about time you told them you are not some . . . predator.”
“You say that as if I’m innocent.” Sophie laughed, menacing, cold and was rewarded with a flinch.
“I know you’re far from it.” Edwina folded her arms, her eyes glinting with fear. “But—” She waved the papers around again. “Even I know you had tired of her too much to bother killing her.”
“So you say.” She turned back to Morgan, enjoying watching slender shoulders hunching . . . and yes . . . there she went talking to herself again.
“Ma’am?” Jake, the head groundsman, called in a raspy voice. Panting. Must have run to the house.
She turned and was at his side before he crossed from the door to the stairs. “What is it?”
“Body.” Jake rubbed his gnarled hands together, then his eyes widened and he pulled his flat cap off. “Not one of ours.”
She squeezed his hand and sent every reassurance in her smile. “You need no airs with me.” She glanced up the stairs at Edwina who scowled back then turned back to him. “Get rid of it.”
Edwina sucked in her jaw. “Surely the pol—”
“No one is to know.” She nodded to Jake and strode ahead to the door. “Lead the way.”
––––––––
YOU EVER GET the feeling someone is watching you? Let me tell you, it feels even worse when you’re in a creepy old building where a murder has taken place. I had once been made to guard a crime scene alone, at night, on the edge of a forest as a probationer—a raw recruit. By the morning, the crime scene was fine but I was shaking, talking to myself and ready to quit. I hadn’t missed those days.
“Morgan, um . . . shit . . . Morgan . . . shit.” One of my security team was either very bad at insulting me or he was scared and a grown man being scared just made my skin crawl like some huge creepy crawly was going to dangle down from my head, spindly legs feeling over my face. I shuddered. Big wimp. I snatched the radio off my belt.
“It’s okay,” I said, hyperventilating as much as him. “Just take deep breaths.”
“Edge of the forest,” the guard stammered back between gasps. “He’s . . . he’s . . . it’s . . . body . . .” He gurgled. “I’m gonna chuck up.”
I turned and sprinted from the courtyard, out through the arched gateway, and along the front of the manor. “Are you sure it’s a body?”
Retching came back in response.
I frowned as Sophie strode and Jake, the head gamekeeper or groundsman—was he both?—hurried out of the main entrance.
“Ma’am,” I called out and trotted to catch up with them. “With all due respect, you should be inside. I want you to be safe.”
Sophie flicked her hungry gaze over me. “I’ve seen countless bodies.” She strode on, Jake in tow as I stared after her.
Did Sophie mean dead bodies? Was that a confession . . . ? I shook it off and caught up with her.
“Here,” Jake said, leading us over to a flowerbed in front of the colossal trees. He flicked on a high beam torch and pointed it at the flowers. “Ain’t one of ours.”
I put my hand out to stop him inching closer. Yeah it was a body. A partially dismembered body with a shredded torso . . . no blood, no fluids. No sign of blood smattering from what I could see.
“You don’t know who he is?” I sounded like a detective.
“No,” Jake grunted. His tinted glasses hid his eyes but he rubbed his chin with a dishpan-sized hand. “He’s messing up the flowerbed.”
Sympathy was clearly his thing then.
No weapon I could see nearby, no signs of insect colonisation. Body was Caucasian, late fifties, receding hair. Had no dirt or debris under his fingernails. He’d been placed there? It was possible. Forest was south of the Manor. Must have some access from this direction.
The guard retched to my right and I noted his position. His addition to the scene would need to be accounted for.
“Look far too gauging for stab wounds,” I mumbled to myself. “Larger.”
Sophie eyed me like she was fast realizing I wasn’t just security. “No, Morgan, I would say it was machinery or more likely a sword such as a sabre.”
I frowned at her. “That’s very specific.”
“I know my blades.” Sophie smiled at me like she’d eat me. The light from the torch etched her face into shadows. I could see her with a sword.
“Right. Dare I ask?” And should I have brought body armour?
Sophie smiled that razor-like smile. “No.”
Jake ran his gaze over the body, then looked up to Sophie. “Get rid of it?”
I stared at him. “You can’t.”
He was too busy looking at Sophie whose eyes were deep with some thought. She couldn’t be considering it, could she?
“Ma’am,” I said, trying not to quote a load of laws at her. “You have to call the police. They need to investigate this. We need to keep this scene clear from contamination.”
Sophie studied me, no that wasn’t accurate enough, she scoured me like she could read my blood count. “He wasn’t killed here.”
I’d seen a lot of bodies, I knew what ways officers and staff used to cope but Sophie, she was completely unmoved. The security guard was still hyperventilating between vomiting, there was a mauled body on the ground and Sophie looked like she was examining a weed.
Unease slid over me.
Sophie met my eyes. Hers flickered like she could read me and as if she could sense the fear prickling through me.
“How was someone able to dump him here?” she asked as if that would make her seem less cold.
“I don’t know. Have you had break-ins before?” I really needed to take pictures but security guards didn’t photograph dead bodies.
“Yes.” Sophie held Jake’s gaze and he wrung out his flat-cap.
The obvious retort, “then why don’t you have cameras everywhere,” flashed through my mind but so did the reminder that I was a just security guard and she was my boss.
“The patrol”—I motioned to the vomiting guard—“passes by every fifteen minutes. There must be a way in through the forest.”
“There are plenty of ways, I’m sure.” Sophie scanned over the body like she was still considering what to do. Jake’s gaze was riveted to her, awaiting orders. She sighed. “Very well, call it in.” She glared at the security guard who was bent double. “Do something with him. That flowerbed costs more than your yearly salary.”
She turned and strode back toward the house, Jake in tow.
I just stared after her. Her broad shoulders caught the light from the solar lights along the path, her white hair illuminated as it bounced behind her, her stature and her graceful movements showed that kind of wild animal dominance . . . and ethereal became a person all over again.
I swallowed and tore my gaze away, then helped the security guard to straighten up. “Let’s get you some water, or something stronger.” I pulled the mobile off my belt and dialled nine, nine, nine.
Now to secure the scene.