Secrets and Lies

Neither Sally or I were the least bit surprised to find Inspector Carter back in Dr. O'Conner's office. Whatever the two were discussing their conversation ended abruptly when we arrived at the door.

"Did you find anything useful?" Carter asked me.

I shook my head, "Not especially, no. Although I can confirm Jane Doe number one did not appear to have been tampered with. Her hair and fingernails looked just like they did in the file photos. So either our persons of interest never made it down to the catacombs, or if they did they weren't interested in collecting samples from the earlier victim."

"Sally made an interesting observation though. Something that wasn't in the file," I added. Then I nodded to her, "Dr. Stewart why don't you share what you told me, regarding the first five bodies' DNA results."

The cute goth's cheeks actually flushed slightly once more, which I chalked up as another victory in my favour.

Then she cleared her throat and explained, "It wasn't in the report since we usually don't go into that sort of thing. We normally wouldn't even look at it, I just happened to be curious since these cases were so strange? Anyways what Detective Trillium's alluding to is the fact that Janes the First through Fifth all had Y chromosomes, which is unusual for women who otherwise appear to be completely cis-normative. And according to the detective, that further rules out any connection with the spell that folks have been using over the past few months."

"Right," I nodded. "That magic changes its users right down to the genetic level. Which can actually make it difficult for some spell users to prove their identity, since they can't guarantee either their DNA or fingerprints will match afterwards. Which I assume is one of the reasons why they instruct folks to video their transformation."

The inspector looked thoughtful for a moment then frowned, "I appreciate that we're ruling things out, but unfortunately that's not bringing us any closer to finding out who's responsible for all this. Maureen just suggested an interesting theory though, after I caught her up on the rest of our discoveries over the weekend."

"Not a theory just a suggestion," the doctor insisted. "And I'm still not entirely sold on the idea that our six Janes Doe may have originally been your six missing men."

Then she continued, "Anyways all I was saying was if these two suspects of yours are both working for an import firm in Wales, perhaps they've been involved right from the start. If we're assuming that this case is magical in nature, then maybe the origin was something their company imported. Whether that be some sort of supernatural creature or a cursed object, it's obviously escaped their control. Maybe they're out here trying to clean up after themselves."

"And if that's the case," Carter stated, "Then they're murder suspects after all."

I asked, "Is there anything we can do to establish that link though? Do we have enough information to get a search warrant? Either for the cottage they're renting here, or their office in Cardiff?"

"Not yet," the inspector grumbled. Then he shook his head and sighed, "It feels as though we're going in circles here, all we have are theories and suppositions. What little evidence we did have has now been compromised, and the lot of it is so far-fetched I doubt any court in the country would even listen."

"What about that latest DNA report? Has it come in yet?" I asked.

Carter and O'Conner exchanged a dark look, then the doctor answered. "I just received an email from the lab a few minutes ago. Their systems were hit by the same 'bug' as ours. The data's lost, they asked me to forward another tissue sample so they could start over."

"Which puts us back a full week on that," Carter sighed. "And at this point I doubt we can trust any such evidence, since it seems as though everything's been tampered with right down to the body itself. I really don't -"

He cut himself off as his phone started to ring, then he apologized as he pulled it out of his coat pocket.

"Carter here," he answered. A few seconds later his expression darkened and he muttered a very soft curse, "Damn it! Was anyone hurt? ...Alright we're on our way. We'll be there in half an hour, forty-five minutes at most. Thank you Mary."

The inspector was already on his feet by the time he ended the call. Then he announced, "There's been a fire. Someone's fancy holiday home burned down just outside Castleton. Fire and rescue are already calling it suspicious. No word yet on the whereabouts of the owner, but two volunteer firefighters were injured trying to get the blaze under control. Needless to say, we have to go."

"Good to see you again Maureen," he added. "Sorry about the extra workload. Sally, try and stay out of trouble. Sharpe, let's get moving."

The doctor responded, "You as well James. And do be careful."

"Fare well my love," Sally called after me as Carter and I headed for the exit. "I'll be waiting for you!"

I just waved before ducking into the stairwell. Then as we hurried down and out of the building I asked, "Do you think this is related to our case?"

"Unlikely," Carter replied. "George should be on scene already, he'll protect any evidence and start taking statements. If it was arson then we'll need to dig into it though, especially as two people were injured."

• • • • •

Unfortunately there was very little for us to investigate by the time Carter and I reached the scene of the fire. What had once been a large luxurious holiday home overlooking the River Esk was now a pile of smouldering ruins, and the surrounding property was a mess of footprints and tyre tracks from the firefighters and their vehicles. So any evidence had either been burned up or utterly trampled.

PC Mallory had some statements from the firefighters, and the good news that the owner had been located alive and well in Newcastle upon Tyne. So apart from the two injured firefighters it sounded like there weren't any other casualties. We didn't have any witnesses either, apparently the fire was already in progress when it was reported by passengers on the Esk Valley Line as their train passed between Danby and Castleton Moor stations.

The inspector and I wrapped things up at the scene, but after that everything seemed to slow right down such that the next three days felt like both cases were stagnating. Carter and I did what we could, but that was frustratingly little. Mostly we were waiting for reports from other people. Dr. O'Conner was re-doing her autopsy report, the lab was re-running the sixth victim's DNA, and a different lab was analyzing various samples recovered from the house fire.

As yet we'd found nothing to link those two cases together, or nothing concrete at least. By that point it seemed like both Carter and I were almost ready to treat anything unusual as potentially supernatural. It didn't help that we were now in the window of expected activity for the serial case. Which meant the inspector and I were practically waiting for the next missing persons report, or worse, for another female body to be discovered.

So that was the sort of mindset I was in late Thursday afternoon when the Fire Investigation Team's preliminary report arrived in my inbox. I was dressed comfy-casual again in sneakers, well-worn jeans, and my favourite hoodie overtop of an old t-shirt as I settled down behind my desk to review the report on my laptop. And sure enough a few details stood out almost immediately.

The fire was definitely suspicious, they were treating it as arson and a potential case of insurance fraud. Except the report admitted there was no clear motive for that. The owner didn't appear to have any financial concerns, and he seemed to be quite devastated when he learned the property had burned to the ground. Possibly because he'd just completed a half-million-pound upgrade to the place the year before.

On the other hand the techs were convinced that accelerants had been used, due to the ferocity of the blaze. Apparently firefighters had originally thought perhaps a gas line had ruptured beneath the home, as the fire simply refused to be doused for the first half hour they were battling it. It wasn't until the structure was completely consumed that they'd finally been able to get the blaze under control.

That was also how two of their men came to be injured. They got a little too close in an attempt to direct their fire hose in through a window towards the heart of the flames, when the outer wall came down ontop of them. One suffered a broken shoulder while the other fractured his wrist, and both experienced second-degree burns. Fortunately both men were expected to make a full recovery.

The last few paragraphs of the preliminary report were where things got a lot more interesting, by which I mean strange.

Despite the fire acting like it was fed by some large source of accelerant no trace of one was found on site. There was no odour of natural gas or petrol, or any other substance typically used by arsonists. And although the home was unoccupied at the time of the fire, several lumps of organic remains were found arranged in a large circle on the main floor.

They didn't seem to be human, but nobody could say for sure what they were as they'd been charred beyond recognition. There was some speculation though, based on the size they could have been animals of some kind. Whatever they were, those answers would have to wait for the final report, as samples of the organic remains were sent for laboratory study. So were various traces taken from the structure, in hopes of determining what accelerant was used.

I ended up re-reading that last part of the report as my thoughts drifted back to something Sally Stewart said on Monday. She'd commented that harvesting hair and fingernail samples from the dead sounded witchy. Now we had a mysterious unstoppable fire seemingly centred on a circle of mysterious dead things. To me that sounded like some kind of occult business, and I couldn't help wondering if the fire had been a sacrifice of some sort. Then again I also had to remind myself not to get carried away. My job was to deal with evidence, not wild fantastic theories.

"Sharpe," Carter suddenly called from his office. He emerged a moment later with his phone in hand, "We've got a bit of a break. Let's go."

He continued for the door as he spoke into his mobile, "The suspect vehicle is a copper coloured Vauxhall Grandland. Just keep an eye on it please Nigel, don't try and approach the suspects. If it looks like they're leaving then call me back immediately. We're on our way right now."

The inspector paused there to disconnect the call and pull on his trench coat.

"What's happening? Where are we going?" I asked as the two of us climbed into his ancient Land Rover.

"The Ainthorpe Arms," he replied as we pulled out and set off to the east. "It seems Campbell and Smith are having incriminating conversations in public again. I just got a call from the pub's owner, apparently a waitress overheard the men talking about going hunting this evening."

He added, "A lot of folks here in the national park like to protect the wildlife from poachers, but something tells me that's not the kind of hunt our suspects have in mind."

I nodded slowly, but I couldn't help worrying about one thing in particular. "Are we going to be safe? Considering we probably confronted them Friday evening and ended up losing a few hours' worth of time."

Carter hesitated a moment before nodding, "I believe so. Constable Goodland will be there as back-up, plus I'm hoping to speak with them while they're still in the pub. Whatever they did to us Friday, with luck they won't be inclined to try it again in front of an audience."

That didn't actually fill me with a lot of confidence, but I didn't protest. I knew we'd have to deal with them sooner or later, otherwise we wouldn't be doing our jobs. Instead I asked, "Then what? Are we going to try and bring them in for questioning? Or arrest them for tampering with evidence last week?"

"Or are you thinking of my earlier suggestion?" I added as I glanced over at him. "About teaming up with them, I mean?"

The inspector shook his head, "That'll depend on them. Our first step is to take care of the public complaint, and ensure they're not planning on doing anything to harm the local wildlife. Then if they're willing to cooperate we'll see where it goes from there."

We'd already reached the village by that point, and a few moments later we spotted Nigel in his squad car waiting on the side of the road across from the pub. The luxury SUV was parked next to the establishment, and Carter pulled his Rover in directly behind it, leaving the Grandland blocked in.

Constable Goodland nodded to us from his car as we made our way to the front doors, then the inspector and I headed inside. Unfortunately quarter to six on a Thursday afternoon wasn't exactly the busiest time of day for the pub, so there wasn't much of an audience to keep our suspects in line. I counted only five other patrons in addition to Campbell and Smith, plus the barkeep and a waitress.

Our targets were easy enough to spot, the men were sitting across from each other at a four-seat table near the fireplace. From the empty dishes in front of them it looked like they'd just finished an early dinner. Or a late lunch. They had a couple half-full pint glasses that they were sipping from as they talked, but their conversation came to an abrupt end when they noticed the inspector and I approaching.

"Inspector Carter, isn't it?" Martin Smith asked. "You look like a man on a mission."

The inspector was all business as he responded, "That's right. And this is my partner, Detective Sharpe."

The two men exchanged a surprised look as Campbell asked, "You're Sharpe?!"

From their reaction I realized that whatever happened last Friday night we obviously didn't properly identify ourselves to the suspects. Nor did they search me or look at my ID or anything else.

Carter meanwhile carried on, "We're here about a complaint, it seems some people believe you and Mr. Campbell here are planning to do a little hunting tonight? You should know that's illegal. And if you're in possession of firearms or any other weapons I'm going to need to see the appropriate licenses and permits."

The mention of Campbell's name led to another look of surprise from the two men, which told me they didn't expect us to know who he was.

"Bollocks," the Scotsman responded. "We're not doing anything illegal, and we definitely don't have any firearms."

Then Smith suggested, "There must be some sort of misunderstanding, inspector. Actually I think I know what happened. I was talking earlier about looking for a setting for my next novel? I may have used the word 'hunting' in that context, as in hunting for an ideal location."

Carter looked back and forth between the two men, then pulled out one of the empty chairs and joined them at the table. Seeing that I did the same, which meant the inspector and I were also across from each other. I was next to Smith, while he was to the right of Campbell.

Then in a low voice the inspector stated, "How about the two of you come clean with us? Why are a couple new hires at a Welsh import firm snooping about the North York Moors? Why did you two tamper with evidence at the morgue in Whitby last Friday night? What are you trying to hide? And what are you really looking for? What exactly is going on here, who's killing those people? And why?"

The two suspects exchanged another look, then Campbell grumbled to his friend, "You know we wouldn't be in this bloody mess if I'd used the old protocols."

Smith gave Colin a worried look and responded in a warning tone, "Remember Gareth? You're already on the line mate. The boss'll have your head if you keep that up."

That was an interesting exchange, but I hadn't come across the name Gareth in my earlier research. So I decided to press with a bit of info I did have. "Your boss, that's Owen Powell right? Or do you report to Grace Bishop? I take it they're pretty strict? Or one of them's got a bit of a temper?"

"How the bloody hell do you know those names?" Campbell demanded.

"She's a detective," Carter snapped. "And she's damned good at her job."

Then Smith answered my question, "Owen's not the boss, neither is Grace. They're more like local managers. The boss is... Well, let's just say she's something else."

"As for the rest of your questions..." he added, before trailing off.

Campbell stated bluntly, "You wouldn't believe us if we told you. Look, all you need to know is we're on the same side, right? You've had a bunch of deaths and disappearances, me and Martin are going to put a stop to that. Tonight, assuming you people get out of our way and let us do our bloody job."

"Absolutely not," the inspector replied just as bluntly. "This is my case. I've got a half dozen unexplained deaths here over the last two and a half months. The most recent of which was a close personal friend of mine. I won't stop until I know what happened, and brought whomever's responsible to justice."

His tone and expression grew even harder as he added, "So either you tell us exactly what's going on, then maybe Sharpe and I will allow you to assist us in dealing with it. Or you spend the evening repeating your stories in detail to some constables back at the office, while our techs go over your car and rental cottage with a fine-tooth comb. So we can rule out any possibility of illegal weapons, as per the public complaint about hunting."

"Bollocks," the Scotsman muttered under his breath. Then he had a gulp of his ale before suggesting, "You two may as well order yourselves some drinks then. You're going to need them."