BURY ME DEEP an utterly gripping crime thriller with an epic twist (Detective Rozlyn Priest Book 1) JANE ADAMS (fox in socks read aloud TXT) 📖

you did to Charlie? Though I’m forgetting. You can’t. You lost that weapon back at the dig site, didn’t you. That pretty spearhead. You’d have to make use of something else from your collection.”

The dogs were snarling, their handlers allowing them to close the gap. She could feel hot breath and spittle on her hand.

“No, Inspector,” Richards said steadily, though she could hear the anger in his tone. “I’m taking you back to the house so I can call your colleagues in the police and report you. As I told you before, I have some friends in some very high places. You’ll be out of a job before you can say . . .” he paused, drew a little closer, leaned in, “Charlie Higgins.”

It was as though everything suddenly became very clear. She knew beyond doubt that once he had her inside the house that would be it. She’d turn up later, dead in a ditch somewhere, stabbed in the back or with a bullet hole in her head. The two men with the dogs stood stony faced. They’d say nothing.

Richards was smiling now and Rozlyn’s first thought was that she had to get away. Her second that she wanted to wipe that smile from that arrogant face. She hit out with the torch, catching him beneath the chin. He stumbled back.

In the split second of confusion that followed, she turned and ran, knowing she could not outpace the dogs, but knowing that she had to try — or she would be as dead as Charlie Higgins.

Behind her, she could hear Richards cursing. She could also hear the shouts of the handlers and . . . the howling of the dogs. What was going on? She dared not look back but it was clear that something wasn’t right. The dogs no longer snarled — they yelped and whined as though something scared them far more than the shouts and threats of Richards or his men. She ran harder, her muscles screaming and her breath rasping in her lungs and throat. This time, Rozlyn was not alone. Running beside her was a man, tall and strong and battle hardened. A man that turned as the dogs and handlers made up ground and threatened to surround them once again.

What the hell? Rozlyn leaped for the wall, scrambled to the top and paused briefly to look back. She saw a shadowy figure fighting with a sword, his hair and cloak streaming out behind him and a cry of victory on his lips as he laid into both dogs and men. The man she had seen, or thought she had seen, standing by the half-imagined watchtower back at the dig. She was certain it was him.

Rozlyn dreamed that she dropped from the wall and ran, as she had run the night before, back towards the car, the familiar weight of the spearhead in one pocket of her coat. The round brooch, enamelled in red and set with a crimson stone, rested heavily in the other.

CHAPTER 39

It was well past midnight when DCI Brook hammered on Ethan’s door and was duly admitted. On being told that Rozlyn was asleep upstairs he asked for no permission but opened the door and stomped up the enclosed staircase and then stood at the top of the stairs wondering which room to try. Two uniformed officers had followed him and, by the time Ethan had arrived, his tiny landing was somewhat overcrowded. Ethan pointed to the door.

“She’s not well,” he said tetchily. “And I don’t like people bursting into my home.”

“I didn’t burst in, you invited me,” Brook told him acerbically.

“I didn’t invite you upstairs.” He took a deep breath. “She’s in there, but you’ll clear out as soon as you’ve satisfied yourself. I’m expecting the doctor.”

A door further along the corridor opened and Cassie looked out, rubbing her eyes.

“What’s going on, Ethan?”

“Nothing. It’s all right. These are colleagues of Rozlyn’s. They want to see her.”

“What’s up with her?” Brook asked, ignoring Cassie.

“The doctor says it’s some kind of flu, but she’s been very bad. How did you know she was here, anyway?”

“Call it an educated guess,” Brook sneered. “Mark Richards reported an intruder last night, reckoned they came back tonight and assaulted his security guards. Beat one of them badly enough to need hospital. His place is only five miles from here and Rozlyn didn’t go home last night.”

“Oh? Well, take a look, but I think you’ll agree that Rozlyn isn’t in a fit state to get out of bed, never mind assault anyone.”

“According to Richard’s people, the intruder wasn’t alone.” Brook said.

* * *

The sound of their voices had permeated Rozlyn’s consciousness. She felt cold again, though she knew that she was hotter than ever, her body burning with a dry heat that had Ethan worried and determined, despite Rozlyn’s hoarse protests, to call the doctor out again.

She turned her head as the door opened and Brook flicked the light switch, filling the room with an unbearable brightness. Rozlyn groaned and hid her eyes.

Brook sniffed. “You stink, you know that?” He approached the bed and lowered his head over Rozlyn, his body blocking out sufficiently enough of the glare for Rozlyn to try and focus on him.

“What the hell’s going on?”

“Been on a little trip, have we? Small excursion to see Mr Mark Richards?”

“Don’t know what you mean.”

“No? Well he can’t prove it was you last night, but we’ve got a pretty good description from tonight’s little escapade. Who’s your friend, eh? The red-haired bloke with the fancy sword.”

“The what?”

“I thought,” Ethan said mildly, “that you said they’d been beaten. Surely, if someone had a sword . . .”

He let the query hang upon the air and Brook swore, then cast himself into the low chair beside the bed. “What the hell’s going on? I’ve had the bloody