Blood and Ashes Read Free

nerve endings were charged with static. ‘It just takes a little coming to terms with, Don. How could a dead man be threatening your family?’
    ‘It’s gone way beyond threats, Hunter. Didn’t you hear what I told you? Brook is dead .’
    The tingling in my skin was becoming painful, and a seething rush shot through my veins. I resisted the urge to scratch and bunched my fists in my pockets. ‘Brook was killed in a car crash. The police ruled it an accident.’
    Don grunted. Next to his battered chair was an equally worn cabinet. He pulled open the top drawer and drew out a folder which he opened and held out. I was still thinking about the gleeful faces that had only moments before flickered on the screen and didn’t want to see what Don offered.
    ‘Take it,’ Don said. ‘Have a good look and tell me if you still think my daughter died accidentally.’
    I’m no stranger to death in any of its horrible forms. To some I’ve inured myself, but not all. Once, I bore witness to the aftermath of an attack by guerrilla fighters on a village of innocents. Some of the victims – mostly women and children – had been burned alive. The images of their bodies twisted into blackened husks still occasionally plagued my nightmares. I didn’t want to see Brook like that.
    But I looked.
    The rushing heat in my veins went cold.
    There were photographs from the accident scene. They showed a vehicle on its roof, so consumed by fire that even the tyres had been burned clean off their rims. The distance shots weren’t so bad; only when the camera had zoomed into the interior did it became apparent that the bundled form lying amid the ashes and molten components had once been human. That was nasty. But nowhere near as horrific as the follow-up photographs from the morgue where Brook’s remains had been taken. Under the stark glare of lights, surrounded by dull steel, the extreme charring of the woman’s corpse was shocking. There was little left of her, just a blackened skull and the withered husk of a torso. The larger bones of the upper arms, the pelvic girdle and legs had survived, but all the lesser bones of her extremities had gone to ash. She had been twisted by the intensity of the heat into the classic pugilist pose, but it wasn’t that evident with her hands gone.
    My blink was slow, and I held my lids shut for a time afterwards.
    ‘Well?’
    Well, what?
    I handed the file back to Don.
    ‘It’s a terrible thing,’ I said. ‘I can’t begin to imagine the terror your daughter must have gone through. But, Don . . .’
    ‘It was no accident.’
    ‘The car rolled, the fuel tank erupted. A spark from the engine ignited the spilled fuel.’
    ‘That’s what it looks like.’ Don opened the file; thrust the photographs under my nose. ‘That’s what it was made to look like.’
    ‘The report is conclusive.’ I gently closed the flap on the file, covering the images. ‘Before you say anything, I’ve read it. I already had Rink get me a copy of both the police and ME files.’
    ‘And you believe a couple of hick cops and a washed-up medical examiner over me?’ Don snorted. ‘They only saw what they wanted to see.’
    ‘Nevertheless, they didn’t find anything suspicious. No evidence that Brook’s death was anything other than a tragic accident.’
    ‘But now that you’ve seen the photographs?’
    ‘It doesn’t change a thing, Don. Your daughter died by the flames that also burned out the car she was trapped in.’
    Don chewed his moustache again. After a few seconds he lifted a hand, pointed at the stairs. ‘I want you to leave. If you don’t want to hear my take on what happened, then just go. I’ll find someone else who does give a damn .’
    The old man’s words were like a slap in the face. I squinted at him, anger riding on my tongue. But I let it go. I headed for the stairs. I ignored the tug of scar tissue in my thigh, in a hurry now to get away before I said something that I’d regret. There