H.E.A.T. Book Bundle (H.E.A.T. Books 1-3)

by Nicola Claire

  I nodded. It didn’t make any sense. And yet my gut was telling me I had everything I needed to solve this thing. I just had to line it up and take a step back to see the bigger picture.

  “Your place or mine?” he asked, slipping an arm around my shoulders and leading us in the direction of the exit.

  “Mine,” I offered, just as he stilled mid-stride. I glanced up at him, then toward where he was looking, eyes narrowed, frown in place. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure.”

  “Do you want to check it out?”

  “Nah, it’s nothing.” He started to walk forward, but I remained rooted to the spot.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” I started, making him turn to look down at me. “But Carl had a saying.”

  “He did?” His smile said it all.

  I ignored the way it made me feel. Like warm sunshine and a fresh, clean breeze. Like heat and him, and a lung full of air.

  “‘If you think you saw it, you probably did. If you pretend you didn’t, it never exists.’” He raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Never exists?” he queried. “Or never existed?”

  “Exists,” I confirmed. “Kinda like the tree in the woods saying.”

  “The tree in the what saying?”

  “‘If a tree falls in the woods and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?’”

  “Of course it does.”

  I shook my head. “How do you know unless you’re there?”

  “And this has what to do with Carl’s saying?”

  I sighed. “Observation. Knowledge of reality. It’s a thought experiment.”

  “Like Schrodinger’s cat?”

  “Yeah. But not as macabre.”

  “OK,” he said, sounding lost.

  Ah, crap. Philosophical discussions right now were not a good idea. Too much was fogging my brain.

  “My point is..”

  “I’m so glad you’ve got one,” Damon joked.

  I gave him a mock scowl. “If you think you saw something, then believing it helps to prove it. A cop has to follow their hunches, or in this case, a moment in time where you thought you saw something then weren’t so sure immediately afterwards.” Damn Carl for fucking up my brain. “Basically, if you ignore it, you’ll never know and it might as well have not existed at all.” I took a breath then added, “It’s as if it doesn’t exist at all.”

  “Fucking hell, this is what you have inside your head? This is what he put there?”

  I shrugged, suddenly feeling uncomfortable.

  “Hey,” he said, taking a step after my rapidly fleeing body. “It’s… deep, that’s all. And I never took Carl Forrester as being particularly deep. It explains a lot.”

  Maybe it did. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe I read too much into his wise words and they weren’t in fact wise at all. Maybe I was the one fucked in the head.

  “What did you see?” I asked, as we came out into the entrance foyer of the Town Hall.

  “Oh, just an old boyfriend of Carole’s.”

  The world stopped on its axis.

  “Lara?”

  “Good or bad boyfriend?” The words were whispered.

  Damon immediately pulled me to the side of the foyer out of the stream of brightly dressed foot traffic.

  “It probably wasn’t him,” he argued. “I’ve just been thinking about all her boyfriends and he must have been on my mind.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be him?”

  “Not his scene.”

  “Good or bad boyfriend?” I repeated.

  He sighed, looked out across the packed foyer - everyone was making their way from the benefit now - and then rubbed at his jaw.

  “I didn’t like any of her boyfriends, but this guy was the worst of all.”

  Oh, this was bad. My fingers itched to pull my cellphone from my handbag. To play the message for Damon and admit what I’d held back. Now would be the ideal time to confess.

  “And you’ve been thinking of him because Carole’s missing,” I said instead.

  He nodded his head, offered a wry smile and then shoved his hands in his pockets looking infinitely lost.

  “Could he be a suspect?”

  “I thought he’d left town,” Damon admitted. “When I managed to get Carole into her last rehab he disappeared.”

  “How close were they?”

  “Too close.”

  “Be more specific.” His eyes darted down to mine and his body stilled.

  “You’re acting like a cop.”

  “Because I am a cop, Damon.”

  “Does my sister have anything to do with the murder case?” Right to the point, that was Damon. Also capable of seeing through the shit to what was really important.

  “I honestly don’t know.” He opened his mouth, but I spoke before he could get a word out. “But I’m not ruling it out.”

  “Why?”

  Why indeed? It would have been too easy to shake my head and admit defeat. But this was Damon. His sister, who ruled his world like Carl had ruled mine. If anyone understood that type of devotion it would be me.

  “She was at Sweet Hell,” I said.

  “Yes, but only seen there once, and even then it was hearsay.” Now it was his turn to play devil’s advocate? He wasn’t going to make this easy for me.

  “The informant who’s been playing Cawfield used you. Why you and not another HEAT member?”

  “I don’t know. Convenience? Coincidence?”

  I huffed out an unamused laugh.

  “The lure was Carole. The web the Irreverent Inferno. The murder is tied up with Sweet Hell.”

  “Are you sure?” I wasn’t, but I was getting closer after today.

  “I’ve been getting silent phone calls all week,” I said, instead of answering that.

  “Oh?”

  “The last one was on the way here.”

  “The one you said was from Cawfield.” Sometimes I hated that he was so fucking astute.

  “Yeah.”

  “And it wasn’t. The silent caller?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What aren’t you telling me, Lara?”

  I turned and looked up at him. It was written all over his face. Worry. Fear. Hope.

  “I suspect they’ve been from Carole.”

  “Jesus,” he whispered, turning away and starting to pace. I watched him, as I felt my heart pull apart at the seams. Not just for hiding this for a few hours and the guilt associated with that. Not just because I thought this was a breach of trust he’d use as a reason to walk away from me. But also because he was frantic. Beside himself with utter panic. And I felt every torturous emotion along with him.

  He stopped pacing and walked up to me. Loomed above me. Looking down and searching my face. His was so still, so devoid of emotion, and yet I could tell he was drowning in it.

  Because I was.

  “How do you know it’s her?” he asked, quite reasonably, I thought.

  “I don’t. Not for sure. She hasn’t ever said a single thing.”

  “But you know.” Meaning my gut did.

  I looked him in the eye, heard Carl’s words inside my head.

  And said, “Yeah. I know.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “Gotta love a cop’s penchant for not mincing words.”

  CIB was deserted, save for the light on in Inspector Hart’s office. The Venetian blinds were angled, but still open, allowing light from within the glass walled room to filter out in horizontal stripes. Pierce’s jacket was draped over the back of his chair as we walked past it. Low voices hummed louder as we approached Hart’s partially open door.

  I knocked twice, but as the door wasn’t closed, walked in without waiting for an answer.

  “Afternoon, sir,” I said, interrupting whatever Pierce and Hart had been discussing. “Sarge,” I added, nodding towards Pierce.

  “You’ve come straight from the banquet?” Hart asked, moving to take a seat behind his
desk. Damon walked in behind me, making Hart sit up straighter and a scowl to appear across his lips. “Michaels.”

  “Inspector.” Damon and Pierce shared a male chin lift.

  “Well, out with it then,” Hart grumbled. “Clearly this is an ambush.”

  I settled myself into one of the vacant chairs, determined to not show any emotion. The fact I had to do this dressed up to the nines in an out of date ball gown did not help matters. Thankfully, both Hart and Pierce were beyond office type jokes.

  Where to start? Pierce must have seen something on my face, because he spoke before I could.

  “Malcolm Francis Warren has provided a statement.” I grasped the diversion with relish.

  “And his assailant?”

  “Hooded.”

  “In a robe?” Damon asked.

  “The exact same robe worn by Irreverent Inferno members.”

  “Could he identify his attacker?” I pressed.

  “No,” Pierce offered. “At least, not willingly. But he did confirm he never completed his initiation.”

  “What about the NDA?” I asked.

  “Hadn’t made it to that part, apparently,” Hart provided. Which meant Warren dropped out before the third circle: Gluttony.

  “Did he give up anything else?”

  “He’s scared, that’s why he stalled on giving a statement,” Pierce said. “Hardly surprising considering the beating he got. But it was more than that.”

  I looked at Pierce, he was looking at Damon

  “Your sister was definitely at the Irreverent Inferno at the time of his introduction. Post limbo.”

  All the colour washed from Damon’s face; I was sure his legs were about to buckle. But he locked his knees, scrubbed a hand over his stubbled cheeks, and just nodded. Eyes wide and perhaps unseeing, but back straight as a rod. Both Pierce and Hart were impressed with his stoic control. I was melting on the inside.

  We all knew what it meant for Carole Michaels to be in that cavern when the initiates passed the limbo circle and tested themselves in lust. We’d all seen it. No one needed to say the words. But where was she now?

  “And afterwards?” I asked. Allowing us all to skip the whole second circle of Dante’s Hell.

  “He couldn’t confirm that, but she was there willingly.” Just like the woman draped in a flowing white dress that we’d seen on the Irreverent Inferno’s altar.

  Still, we had nothing. Other than confirmation that she was tied up in this mess and was in theory alive at midday today.

  “When did this happen?” I asked, Damon seemed incapable of questions.

  “Last Saturday night,” Hart provided. The night Damon had been in the Sweet Hell part of the building.

  He did sit down on those words. With his hands clasped knuckle white together, he rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the floor. It reminded me of how I reacted to the knowledge my father collared a woman as his sexual pet. Stunned. Mortified. Worried.

  But Damon’s worry was for his sister, not for his reputation being harmed by her choices. I didn’t like what that made me.

  “You said there was more to his fear than just the beating he received?” I asked, wanting desperately for my own reasons to move on from Carole’s plight.

  I was a bad person, I knew it.

  “This is where it gets complicated,” Hart said, his eyes on Damon, just as Pierce’s were as well. I started to feel uncomfortable. “Warren says he passed the lust test in the cavern.”

  Oh, shit.

  “What?” Damon demanded. Both Hart and Pierce stilled. That readiness a cop gets before it all hits the fan and punches are thrown. My hand came out and rested on Damon’s arm in warning. Both detectives’ eyes glanced down at the move, but immediately raised them again to hold Damon’s angry stare.

  “You heard right,” Hart said carefully. “He was the initiate chosen by Carole Michaels whilst she was in the lust circle.”

  Oh, fuck. Gotta love a cop’s penchant for not mincing words. Hart was a hard-nosed bastard, but he also respected Damon in a warped kind of way. He wasn’t pussy-footing around, because Damon wouldn’t have wanted it that way.

  “So he passed the lust circle test?” I asked. Damon just sat statue still beside me. I couldn’t begin to fathom what he was thinking, processing. I gave him his space to work through it the only way I knew how. By asking the questions he’d be thinking, but was unable to voice aloud.

  “He passed,” Pierce offered. “And was beaten to a pulp because of it.”

  Silence.

  I leaned back in my chair and let out a slow breath of air.

  “What have you got, Keen?” Hart pressed, seeing the move for what it was. Clarity.

  “Why so many days afterwards?”

  “Don’t know,” Hart snapped. “What have you got?” he repeated.

  I flicked a glance towards Damon. He was watching me as well. Pain, worry, anger, fear. All of it was there in those dark eyes. He nodded. Just a small shift of his head. Enough to let me know he was ready.

  “I’ve been getting phone calls,” I said, thinking it was the best place to start. “A silent caller for the past week.”

  “And you didn’t report it?” Hart demanded.

  “I thought it was Carl.”

  “And now?”

  “I think it’s Carole.”

  “She give you anything to go on?” Hart asked, jotting a few words down on a pad. He didn’t question my theory, he rolled with it. It was an acceptance I hadn’t been sure I’d still get.

  “Nothing, but I did pick up a higher pitch in gasp yesterday when I called her Carl. Made me realise then it wasn’t, but I still didn’t put it together until today. I’m not sure why.” My eyes flicked to Damon’s again. The words were woefully inadequate as an apology.

  “And today?”

  “She was scared.”

  “That’s it?” Hart demanded.

  “This is all connected,” I explained. “Damon saw an ex-boyfriend of Carole’s at the banquet.” Pierce let out a whistle, recognising the significance before I’d even gone on. “Not his usual scene. But he was there. Why? Cawfield’s informant set him on Damon. The bomb at his house is linked through the accelerant to the HEAT arson attacks. Carole was the lure. The Irreverent Inferno was the web. And the murder occurred across the street from Sweet Hell.”

  “We still going with coincidence not being a part of this?” Hart asked, it seemed a genuine query.

  “Definitely not,” I said with conviction.

  Both Pierce and Hart sat up straighter. Somehow my words meant something.

  “Then walk us through it, Keen.”

  I stood up. I worked better when I paced. All three men turned so they could watch me as I moved.

  “We’ve always suspected the HEAT attacks have been revenge based,” I started. “Dragging Carole back into that lifestyle is definitely vengeful. Not to her. But to Damon. He worked hard to get her out of it. So hard, in fact, he destroyed his relationships.”

  Damon slowly closed his eyes, but didn’t show any further signs of emotion. They were steady when he looked back at me.

  “This arsonist is fucking with Damon. Why?” I asked. I was answering before anyone else could. “Because Damon took Carole from him and locked her away.”

  “The name of the ex-boyfriend?” Hart demanded, looking at Damon with his pen poised. Pierce had his cellphone out, ready to act on the identity immediately.

  “Andrew Falkner,” Damon supplied.

  “Don’t know him,” Pierce said, tapping away on his screen. “Name’s not in the Wanganui.” The Wanganui Computer was the National Law Enforcement System.

  “Could be an alias,” Hart suggested.

  “More than likely,” Damon concurred. “He dealt in drugs.”

  Pierce lowered his cellphone at the exact same moment Hart lowered his pen. Dead end.

  “And this connects to the murder, how?” Hart asked, eyes back on me.

  This w
as where the dots started straying.

  “David Gordon is a dominant sexual predator, but otherwise not a good fit for this,” I said, picking up my pacing again.

  I noticed Hart leaning back in his chair, no longer straight backed, ready for me to blow him apart with my detecting skills. He’d picked up on the shift. Either in my tone of voice or general confidence.

  “Superintendent Keen…” I stopped. I hadn’t even discussed this with Damon. But he’d seen the jewel studded chain that was undoubtedly a collar. He’d figured out who my father was with behind those curtains. He’d even tried to converse with the strangely mute Haydee. But discussing this with Inspector Hart and Ryan Pierce was too much.

  Even for an ice princess like me.

  “Superintendent Keen?” Hart pressed, even though his tone was careful, not forceful.

  “Superintendent Keen has provided an alibi, sir,” I pointed out. “Even though it took him twenty four hours to do so. It still stands.”

  Silence. Hart didn’t trust my father’s alibi. I’d already suspected this, otherwise he wouldn’t have been pushing for me to get more. I hadn’t seen the alibi, but I was betting it involved Haydee; his pet.

  Was she or was she not a strong alibi?

  “He did confirm he was a member of the Irreverent Inferno, but I don’t like him for this crime,” I added in an extremely lame display of detecting skills. “Kyan Marcroft, however, is a superb actor,” I went on. “And I can’t make out what exactly he is hiding. But he is hiding something. And Nathaniel Marcroft is a psychopath somehow managing to function in normal society.”

  “Anything solid?” Hart asked, voice level.

  “Not a damn thing,” I admitted.

  “Your gut?” Pierce pushed.

  “If I had to pick one?” Both men nodded. I shook my head. “I’m happy to rule out Gordon and Keen…”

  “Why Keen?” Hart finally pressed. “I need more, Detective.” He really hadn’t liked my father coming into CIB and throwing his weight around.

  “His life is the law,” I said, staring off into the distance. “His world is controlling himself within it.”

  “Even though he’s confirmed his involvement in the Irreverent Inferno?” Hart asked.