Would he ever be able to visit another National Trust site without being reminded of Samantha’s murder? Probably not.
Nervous energy twisted his gut and made his wolf uneasy. He pressed a hand to his belly.
Falkington CID were already waiting for them, coat collars raised and eyes down.
“Afternoon,” Blake said, towering over a pretty, dark-haired woman in a tan overcoat.
She looked up at him with wide eyes, her gaze trailing down his chest and hovering over his badge. “Oh, you must be the West Newton DS. Nice to meet you, I’m DC Isla Wilson.”
She took Blake’s hand and shook it, even though it wasn’t offered. She held on to it for a fraction too long. Pember jammed his tongue into his cheek. He couldn’t tell if it was a come-on, or if she was just socially awkward. Either way, he had the urge to step on pretty little DC Isla Wilson’s pump-clad toes.
He swallowed, ignoring the unreasonable bodily reaction, and held out his own hand for shaking. “Pember McArthur. Forensics,” he said, taking her hand and shaking it a touch too aggressively.
She blinked, looking as though she’d only just noticed his presence.
“Shall we?” Pember said, doing his best not to scowl.
“O-oh, yes! This way,” she said, holding out a hand towards the far end of the mill. A group of forensic officers stood together, holding clipboards, in white scene suits.
Blake chuckled quietly overhead, looking down at him with an eyebrow raised. A flush rose up Pember’s neck, and he hung back behind the two of them as they wandered through the mill.
He ran his eyes over the huge looms either side of the central walkway. The weaving strings had long since rotted, but the dark wooden frames remained. As did the musty smell of sheep.
“Sorry about that,” Isla said, suddenly dropping back and bumping his shoulder. “It’s my first real crime scene and I’m nervous as hell.”
She looked at him with the same wide-eyed expression she’d given Blake, and Pember realised he’d just been a total fucking arse-hat. Letting out a breath, he smiled. “It’s okay, just do your best.”
She gave him a grateful look. “I will. Oop, sorry! Inner cordon,” she said, jumping in front of Blake. “Do you have a scene suit?”
Pember snorted, bending down to pull an XXL forensic suit from within his hard case. He grinned at Blake as he slapped it against his chest, giving Isla the thumbs up.
When they were changed, Isla swept an arm under the scene tape and let them through. Their footsteps changed from the slap against stone to dull thudding over centuries-old wood. The atmosphere immediately shifted. Gone was the stuffy nervousness of everyone around—now the only thing Pember felt was impending dread.
A wooden trapdoor sat propped open with a metal bar in the middle of the room, a collection of yellow evidence markers dotted around its entrance. Despite the afternoon sunlight pouring in from the multitude of holes in the slate roof, the trapdoor looked almost like a black hole. Nothing. No light.
No life.
The smell of death was strangely absent, eclipsed by the overwhelming stench of dust mites.
Pember stared at the hatch, unable to tear his eyes away as it seemed to stare back. Samantha was down there. Cold. Alone. He may not have known her well. May not have even liked her. But no one deserved that fate.
“Ah! West Newton.”
Pember snapped out of his thoughts as a man in a scene suit put down his clipboard and walked towards them.
“We’ve got a slight problem.”
Blake grunted, inclining his head. “Yes?”
The man pulled down his blue mask, revealing a large nose and ruddy cheeks. “We want to sample the body in situ. But with how it’s placed, we can’t send someone through the trap door without a major forensic disturbance. It’s a mess down there. If we try to pull the body up, the dust and wool fibres will stick to every inch of it, contaminating our samples.”
“Samantha,” Blake said, pulling up his own mask. “Notit.Her name is Samantha and she’s one of ours.”
“O-oh, yes. Of course, I?—”
Blake let out a breath and strode towards the trapdoor. Pember kept his eyes glued to his back, watching as he dropped his gaze and touched the top of his head as though doffing his cap in respect. Without even thinking, Pember did the same.
Blake hung over the hole for a moment, his shoulders unbearably tense. Pember let out a sharp breath and went to his side.
