Page 45 of Secrets of the Forgotten Heir

‘No good comes from jumping to conclusions,’ Yanni chastened gently, the same way she’d spoken to me about doing exactly that, but this time I could hear the tightness in her voice.

She’d been telling me the truth when she’d said that people were scared. They were scared because theyautomatically recalled what my grandmother had done. If Selena and her family still had a security camera on their property ten years after that incident, the memories were still there.

I felt like I needed to say something more. ‘You have our number. If you hear anything, call us. We’ll do the same. We promise.’

Selena sniffed again. ‘Thank you.’

As we got back into the car, Yanni glanced at me. ‘What are your thoughts now?’ she asked. ‘Still think Toby’s the murderer and he’s done a runner?’

‘I don’t know,’ I admitted. ‘But we’ve still got the stepmum, Angelica, to question. We could always head there now.’

Yanni looked pleased, and for a moment I got the impression that she liked working with me. ‘That’s exactly what I was thinking, too,’ she said. ‘Let’s see if we can’t find some more evidence to follow.’

I pulled on my seatbelt. Angelica might have answers or she might have more secrets. Either way, we were about to find out.

Chapter Thirty

As we drove through the village, I leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes. I’d not had the best of sleeps last night with the echoes of the day’s high emotions rippling through me, and I still hadn’t had my early morning coffee fix.

I didn’t realise quite how much I needed caffeine until the days when I didn’t get it and my temples started pounding and my eyes needed matchsticks to hold them up. If coffee ever became sentient, I would immediately pledge my allegiance and fight for its cause. But there was no chance I was going to ask Yanni if we could swing by Sonny’s to pick up a takeaway; time was of the essence and Mrs D was still locked up.

As the police car rumbled down the lanes, I thought about all the other tasks that I still had to do. I was no closer to solving the original problems Maddie had asked me to return to Witchlight for. Other than getting thrown out of Old Jacobson’s house and realising he hada serious amount of magic, plus learning Fraser Banks was ludicrously rich, and handing over that mysterious bank account number to Donovan, I was treading water and moving nowhere fast.

The reminder spurred me to send Donovan a quick text:This is urgent. Please update when you can. Also, if you have any miraculous investigative breakthroughs, now would be an excellent time to share.

With that done, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Much as I wanted to focus on the Flame, finding Warren’s murderer had to take priority. Hopefully his ex-wife would give us some much-needed clues.

Angelica Loren, formerly Storcrest, lived in an exclusive development on the edge of the village: twelve luxury houses that, according to the large sign outside the gated community, came with open-plan living areas, hot tubs in the gardens and prestigious views. It hadn’t existed when I’d lived here and I was surprised the council had given permission for buildings of that size, but I supposed needs must. Magical people needed somewhere to live and Witchlight Cove was one of the loveliest places for them to do that. Big houses also meant that these magical residents had money. I wondered if Banks had built the development.

‘Come on,’ I said to Eva as I opened the car door. ‘Let’s go.’ Immediately, she pointed her nose toward the house and gave a low growl. ‘Hey, what’s got into you?’ I asked. She didn’t move and growled again.

‘Is she a trained police dog?’ Yanni asked, eyeing Eva with the same curious caution as me.

‘She’s come with me on a lot of cases, but nothing formal,’ I replied.

Yanni nodded grimly. ‘Well, I don’t like that reaction and I trust her after she found Warren. Stay behind me, will you?’ She pulled out her revolver, holding it ready as we approached the front door.

I felt pretty useless: I wasn’t carrying a gun and I regretted having next to no magical skill. That was a regret that stayed with me regardless of the situation, together with many others like not studying for a practical degree. Wearing shoes that pinched my toes. That time I’d once waved back at someone who wasn’t waving at me. Still, I let Yanni take point. This was her gig, after all.

She knocked once. Although it wasn’t the most forceful of knocks, the door swung inwards. She looked at me and I knew we were both thinking the same thing: an unlocked front door wasn’t a great sign.

‘Hello? Mrs Loren?’ Yanni called. ‘Witchlight Police. We’d like to ask you some questions.’

Eva growled againand tried to push in front of me. ‘No. Stay back, girl,’ I said firmly.

I might only have minimal magic but if something happened I was more likely to survive than Eva was.

‘Stay close,’ Yanni murmured to us as we stepped inside.

The house seemed to pulse with tension. ‘Mrs Loren?’ Yanni called again. Nothing. Not a sound.

The house epitomised fashionable minimalism: white marble floors, whitewashed walls, a couple of bright art prints, a clean white kitchen island and a large white sofa. It was the kind of place that screamed ‘wealth’ but also whispered, ‘No one is allowed to have sex on the sofa.’ It didn’t exactly give off a homely vibe – and it didn’t offer many places for someone to hide. At that moment, that was something I was grateful for.

‘Upstairs?’ I whispered. Yanni nodded.

As we crept up the stairs, we continued calling Angelica’s name. I tried to home in on any emotions because I assumed that if a murderer was hiding somewhere, their emotions would be strong enough for me to feel even without any connection. But there was nothing. Either they could cloak their emotions or we were alone in the house.

We cleared the rooms one by one. ‘She’s not here,’ I said unnecessarily. ‘Do you think she hasn’t come back from her dance class yet?’

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