Read Soul Fire for Free Online

that finished ages ago. This is something the police mentioned.
It’s called Burning Truths and . . .’
    Lewis is already at his computer. Or, one of them. The site loads instantly, in all its gothic crudeness.
    ‘Blimey, that’s not subtle, is it? I’ll bet whoever did this also loves nineties heavy metal, and is planning to get a secret skull tattoo when he’s sixteen.’
    I try to smile but I can’t. ‘It’s not a joke. The design isn’t important. It’s what it says.’
    He looks up at me and his expression changes. ‘You’re right. Sorry. Attack of the dangerously socially inept.’
    This time I do manage to smile. ‘I know it looks like one of those awful tribute sites, but it’s not. Whoever wrote this is convinced Tim is innocent.’
    ‘ You think he’s innocent, Ali.’
    ‘That site isn’t mine ,’ I say. ‘Apart from anything else, I don’t have the computer skills. The thing is, whoever it is might know something important. Read
it yourself. The person behind this knew both of them, you can tell by the way it’s written. So they might be the final piece in the jigsaw.’
    ‘Or they might just be another conspiracy theorist who has become fixated on their stories the way stalkers do.’ He turns his chair round to face me. ‘Is it not time to let it
go, Alice? Tim’s death could be a full stop instead of a question mark. A chance to move on.’
    I say nothing.
    Lewis sighs. ‘OK. OK. That’s not an option. Silly suggestion, obviously.’
    ‘Could you find out who built the site for me?’
    ‘Probably. Anyone putting together something this ugly is unlikely to have the know-how to keep their identity a secret. I’ll make a start, shall I? I should have known this was more
than a social call.’ But he’s smiling as he says it.
    Within seconds, lines of numbers and letters are streaming across the screen, and he’s gazing at the code with the adoration men usually save for supermodels. I guess it’s good news
that Lewis doesn’t have a girlfriend because then I’d have to try to get to the bottom of this on my own.
    The thought of being without my only real-world ally makes me feel cold.
    ‘What?’ he says, catching me staring.
    ‘Just wondering how you can make sense of that stuff.’
    ‘By looking for patterns. People mystify me, but, with patterns, I can make some sense of the world. Isn’t that what we’re here for?’
    ‘Is it?’ I whisper. ‘After Meggie died, any ideas I had about life making sense kind of went out of the window. I’ve given up trying to make sense of anything.’
    Lewis’s eyebrows go up.
    ‘What?’
    He shakes his head. ‘Nothing.’
    ‘Come on, Professor. If there’s something you want to say, come out with it.’
    ‘Just that if you’ve really given up trying to make sense of stuff, Ali, why are you asking me to do all this ?’
    I don’t have an answer to that one: not one that I can tell Lewis, anyhow.

11
    Almost an hour goes by. Lewis types away and makes the odd growling noise while I read yesterday’s paper. Finally I get up and walk over to him. On the screen,
there’s a map of the world, with dozens, no, hundreds of orange dots on the screen.
    He growls again.
    ‘Is everything OK, Lewis? You sound a bit . . . like a wild bear.’
    ‘I might have been slightly . . . overconfident about how easy it would be. Look at this.’
    ‘Are these where the site visitors come from?’
    Lewis looks at me. ‘Decent guess. But, no. These are the locations of the person who made this site. According to the IP addresses.’
    ‘Wow! They must have collected a few Air Miles.’
    ‘Their locations for the last twenty-four hours.’
    ‘But . . .’ The locations range from the west coast of the States to southern Africa, to New Zealand. Even the North Pole. ‘That’s impossible.’
    ‘Yes. Even with a private jet, you’d never do it. And I suspect the person behind this hasn’t actually shifted a millimetre from their beanbag.