Read Through the Evil Days: A Clare Fergusson/Russ Van Alstyne Mystery (Clare Fergusson and Russ Van Alstyne Mysteries) for Free Online

Geoff threatening, Mrs. Marshall high-handed, Mr. Madsen pointing out the pros and cons of the plan to anyone who would listen.
    The archdeacon continued to look at her intently. What was he trying to say? Should she take the offer? Should she fight? Was the bishop seeing this as a test? Or as an opportunity?
    One week. Her hands curled over the edge of the black oak table as if she could anchor herself to it. One week.

 
    7.
    Kevin Flynn had expected the wreckage of the burned home to be messy. Cinders, charcoal, melted snow refrozen to ice—picking his way around the rubble of the MacAllens’ life had already coated his boots with a gray slime and stained his uniform pants up to the knee. What he hadn’t expected was the smell.
    “God.” He waved his glove beneath his nose in a vain attempt to clear some breathing space. “Stinks like an industrial accident in New Jersey.”
    “Yeah.” Patrick Lent, the state arson investigator, didn’t look up from his camera, aimed at a stack of debris the rest of the fire marshal’s team was sorting through. “The crap that gets released when a house burns is crazy. Toxic chemicals, asbestos, lead.” He snapped off a series of photos. “The insulation, the electrical system, rubber, plastic—that’s why we’ve got my partner here.” Lent made a gesture, and the dog that had been sitting quietly a few feet away rose and trotted to his side. Unlike most K-9 police dogs, the arson dog wasn’t in a vest or identifying collar. He could have been someone’s mutt, a mix of German shepherd and Lab, maybe, watching the scene.
    “What’s he do?” Kevin asked.
    “Dakota’s trained to sniff out accelerants. Somebody could have gone through this house with a bucket of paraffin-oil blend, and you and I couldn’t tell. But Dakota catches the smallest trace of a fire-starter and can track it for miles.”
    “What about the bodies?” Both men looked to the far corner of the ruined house, where firemen were shifting debris from a towering pile suspected to have been an upstairs bedroom. Part of the second floor had collapsed onto the floor below, making the search a slow excavation rather than a quick retrieval. Nothing had been found yet, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time.
    “He hasn’t been trained to find corpses. He’ll ignore humans, unless they’ve got accelerant on them.” Lent pointed to the charred and listing timbers framing nonexistent rooms. “Dakota. Seek.”
    The dog trotted toward the ruins. He entered through the shell of the front door and veered to the left, picking his way over the wreckage, nosing in what looked to Kevin like a random pattern. Suddenly, he sat.
    “Huh,” Lent said. “That was fast.” He walked toward where the dog was sitting. “Show me.” The dog scratched. Lent bent over and placed a marker where his canine partner had indicated. “I’ll take the evidence sample after Dakota’s run the rest of the house. Seek.”
    The dog sprang up and headed toward what must have been the center hall. Abruptly, he sat again.
    “Does he do that every time?” Kevin asked.
    “Yeah. He’ll only scratch to indicate the spot. Keeps him from injuring himself.” The arson investigator set another marker. “Seek.”
    The dog went a few feet and sat again. Kevin and Lent followed the dog throughout the house, walking, sitting, marking. After forty minutes, they had a trail of fluorescent flags streaming in and out of every room.
    “Jesus,” Kevin said. “Whoever did this wasn’t leaving much to chance, was he?”
    “Doesn’t look like it.” Lent scratched Dakota’s head and gave him a treat.
    In the heap of charred rubble that had been a bedroom, one of the fire marshal’s men straightened. “Hey. Officers. We got remains.”
    Kevin and Lent made their way through the scorched and broken rooms. “If the owners were inside, chances are good it’s not going to be insurance fraud, which is what my first guess would have