Page 49 of Glasshouses

“Whereas you’re investigating. I’ll take my chances; besides, I’m invested now.” He strode ahead, looking in through a window that had been boarded up, only part of the board had dropped away.

“What’s it like?”

“Like it’s been frozen in time.” He carried on to the back of the house. “Someone’s been here recently.”

I caught him up and saw what he meant. Two shiny watering cans were stood next to each other, an old water butt nearby. “They’re new.”

“Look at the garden. Not all of it, but a couple of the beds and the greenhouses.” He pointed across the area. “Someone’s been looking after this.”

Dusk was settling, but I could still tell what he meant. One of the greenhouses was filled with tomatoes and what looked like peppers or chillis, the next looked like something green was growing in there. A path between the two was worn with footsteps, long grass battened down.

I pulled my phone out of the deep pockets of my leggings, taking a few pictures before it got too dark. There was no silence, the place wasn’t still. The breeze picked its way through the trees and the grass; wildlife flitted about the undergrowth. It still lived. It still breathed.

I didn’t believe in ghosts. I understood residual energy, I understood why people might think they’d seen a ghost, or maybe they wanted to have done. The haunted house genre was lost on me because the dead were nothing to be fearful of; it was always the living, and that was what was unnerving me here.

“Do you think there’s someone here now?” I turned to look at the back of the house, sealed up to all intents and purposes, but there’d be a way to get in, some sneaky gap somewhere.

Taz was heading towards the gates at the far side of the house. “There are no vehicles from what I can see, but someone could be around on foot. Abandoned houses attract kids and people looking for somewhere quiet to be. There could be someone living inside.”

“The house wasn’t searched after the fire. It was just boarded up for Amanda to deal with.” It was becoming too dark now to properly explore. “She just left it – why?”

“Grief does funny things to people.” He looked all around him. “I think we should head back.”

“Scared?”

“No. But exploring abandoned houses when it’s going dark isn’t my main idea of fun, and you look cold.” He nodded towards my uncovered arms which did have goosebumps on them.

“I’ll come back here with a couple of the team tomorrow. You shouldn’t be here anyway.”

His expression was blank. “I think we can get in front of the house through there.” He navigated to the edge of the fencing where it joined a stone wall. The wall petered out into more woodland, unenclosed and wild. Eventually, through the trees, it bled into moorland and a different world.

We walked in silence, heading in the direction of the track and the car, taking a jump over a stream that seemed to head nowhere, my landing one that my old gymnastics coach would’ve been proud of and made Taz raise his brows.

I pulled a hoodie on as soon as we got back to the car, swapping my trail shoes again, and then turning on the seat warmer. I’d built up a sweat running to the church, but had then cooled too much.

Taz climbed into the passenger seat, fastening his seatbelt. “You look frozen.”

“I feel it. I’ll get a hot shower when I get back.”

“You mean that shower works?” He sounded incredulous.

“The pressure’s really good and the water’s piping.” Although it did look like it belonged in a nineteenth century hospital.

“What’s the plan for the bathroom?”

I went through my ideas, which, unsurprisingly, didn’t include a hospital theme, and stayed away from my thoughts about the house. Had I broken rules by having a civilian with me? No, I wasn’t on police business, officially, and we’d just been for a run. It would wash, but I was still questioning why I was trusting the man next to me. Was I that easily bought by a few roof tiles?

“Don’t let me find you on my roof tomorrow night,” I said, as he got into his own car.

Taz shrugged. “Don’t be searching for me online. You’ll find nothing.”

He was right; I didn’t.

Chapter Fifteen

With some hesitation, Wrigley signed off on the budget needed to send a team of three CSIs to the Goodhew house. I argued that there was no report about what had been in there after the fire, something Wrigley put down to the house being too unsafe and the equipment Ste had used on Tuesday not being available then. He could’ve been right, but my gut told me otherwise. They were scheduled to go there in the afternoon, which meant I could have another check of Roselea in person, without my civilian friend. This morning, I was due at Millstone Secure Unit to meet with Lily’s psychiatrist, a Doctor Grace McKay, someone I’d never heard of before.

“You’re almost becoming a specialist in secure units, Mac,” Wrigley said as I talked him through what I was wanting to find out from the visit. “We’ll have to get you a special job title.”