Page 43 of When You're Safe

“Good evening,”he said, with a tightness in his voice indicating his distress.

“Hello,” Winterssaid. “I’m Inspector Winters, and this is Finn Wright, a consultant detectivewith the Home Office.”

“You better comein, then,” he said. “Some of your colleagues are already here. Terriblebusiness…”

Finn andWinters followed him into the conservatory, and the humid air, filled with thescent of exotic plants, immediately enveloped them. Among the tangled canopy ofgreen, the crime scene lights illuminated a chilling tableau. Two policeconstables stood nearby and nodded when Winters showed her badge.

NathanielDeGrey was sprawled at the base of a beautiful old metal fountain, his bodycontorted as though he had fallen over and then drowned in the fountain, hisface still submerged in the shallow pool. Water from the fountain had soakedthe front of his clothes, and beside him was a broken bottle of Scotch.

“Seems like anaccident,” the caretaker murmured, wringing his hands. “He could’ve trippedover one of the water tubes. Nathaniel used to come here sometimes and drink. Ialways thought it would end badly for him.”

Winters, witha practiced eye, surveyed the scene. “Looks can be deceiving,” she muttered,nodding at Finn.

Finn wasalready crouched next to Nathaniel, examining his surroundings. “These watertubes,” Finn pointed out, “they’re neatly coiled at the sides. Not stretchedout.”

She looked at Finn,eyes sharp. “You think it’s staged?”

“Everythingseems too… perfect,” Finn responded, feeling Nathaniel’s cold wrist. “And there’sthis bottle of Scotch, just to let us know this was a bad adventure by alcohol.”

The quietmurmur of conversation from the forensic team echoed through the conservatory,making it seem even more cavernous. The glass walls shimmered withcondensation, and every so often, a droplet would fall, adding to the eerieambience.

Amidst theeerie silence, Finn’s eyes caught something peculiar—a faint reflection in thewater pooled around Nathaniel’s face. He leaned in closer, the smell of waterand blood making him blink. There it was, a small gash on the side of Nathaniel’stemple.

“Winters,” hecalled, still examining the wound.

She bentbeside him, looking at where his flashlight beam centered. “What did you find?”

Withmeticulous care, Finn used a pen to lift Nathaniel’s head slightly, revealing asmear of blood on the metal lip of the fountain.

“It doesn’tadd up,” Finn whispered. “See this? The angle of the cut, it’s too deliberate.If he’d fallen forward from drunkenness or a misstep, it wouldn’t look likethis. It’s as if someone struck him from the side of his head.”

Winters’s facegrew more serious, her eyes scanning the fountain and then moving back toNathaniel’s face. “If this were an isolated incident, we might have brushed itoff. But the third DeGrey in just over a fortnight? No. Our killer staged this.”

Theconservatory, already filled with shadows, grew more oppressive. Somewhere inthe distance, an owl hooted, its mournful cry carried by the wind. The glass panesof the conservatory rattled gently, and the rustling leaves from the plantswhispered secrets in languages long forgotten. The continual dripping of waterfrom the fountain created a rhythmic backdrop, each droplet echoing in the vastspace and echoing Finn’s pulse. It was as if the water was struggling to washaway the pointlessness of it all, choking on a stream of death,

Finn tried toshrug off the unease that was creeping up on him. “It’s like… like they want usto think it’s an accident. They’re playing with us.”

“Or,” Wintersadded, voice low, “the killer is scared and hoped this one would look like anaccident.”

Finn nodded. “Yeah,that’s a great idea. Maybe it’s because we’re getting close or because of thereporting in the press. They’re showing the two of us, the killer must haveseen that. That could make him feel under pressure. But yet he still kills. Hestill has a plan.”

As the two detectivescontemplated the gravity of the situation, a gust of wind blew through a gap inthe conservatory’s doorway. The surrounding foliage rustled ominously, and distantthunder growled, warning of an impending storm.

Finn’s gazedarted around the conservatory, analyzing every nook and cranny, every leaf andvine. “Mistakes, Winters,” he murmured. “A killer under pressure is bound tomake one. Maybe we’ve overlooked something.”

His eyessettled on a shiny object entangled within the dense foliage of a hangingplant. Curious, he gestured toward it. “Did you see that?”

Winters followedhis gaze. “What is it?”

Before Finn couldanswer, he turned to the caretaker. “Do you know of anyone who vapes here?Maybe Nathaniel or any visitors?”

The caretaker,who had been observing the scene from a distance, frowned in thought. “No, sir.I’ve never seen Nathaniel or anyone else use such things here.”

Winters, notwaiting for more, quickly donned her forensic gloves. With delicate precision,she reached into the plant and extracted a slim, blue device. Holding it up tothe conservatory’s dim light, it became clear: it was one of those disposablevapes, the kind that had recently become all the rage.

Finn’s brainwhirred into action. “This could be our breakthrough,” he said, excitementtinged with gravity. “Look at its location. If this vape fell here during astruggle, the killer might have inadvertently left us the very clue we needed.”

Winters noddedin agreement, her face grave. “We need to get a DNA test on this immediately.It might give us a lead, or better yet, a match.”

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