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

been.” Lent stepped back while two firemen lifted another timber out of the way. “The other most usual scenario is a pissed-off husband or boyfriend.”
    “They were an older married couple,” Kevin said.
    “Then I’d check out the grown kids. Do they have a daughter who broke up with someone? Left an abusive husband?”
    Two of the fire marshal’s men lifted a ragged panel that might have been attic insulation. “There they come,” another man said.
    Kevin concentrated on keeping his face neutral and his stomach down. He had seen death before, but not like this. The two corpses, blackened, mummylike, were barely identifiable as human. Age, gender, and features had all been burned away. The bodies curled toward one another, as if they had been—“It looks like they were just lying there.”
    “We see that a lot,” Lent said. “The smoke gets them in their sleep. These two probably never even woke up.”
    Thank God for that. Kevin stepped closer as the arson investigator picked up his camera again. “We’ll get the shots, and then you can bag the remains,” Lent told the fire marshal’s men.
    “Wait.” Kevin removed his leather gloves and stuffed them in his parka pocket before tugging on purple evidence gloves in their place. He bent over the two heads. Each skull had charred cracks radiating from a chipped hole. He touched one hole lightly. His finger went all the way through. “The hell? These look like gunshot wounds.” He glanced up at Lent. “Is this some sort of natural result of extreme heat?”
    “No. It’s not.” The arson investigator’s voice was grim. “Better call in your ME.”
    Kevin retreated to his squad car, grateful for the chance to warm up. He held one hand out to the vent as he keyed his mic with the other. “Dispatch, this is fifteen-sixty-three.”
    “Fifteen-sixty-three, go ahead.”
    “Requesting a medical examiner at 52 Crandell Hill Road. We’ve found—” He almost said the MacAllens’ remains, but the chief’s rule stopped him. Never assume. “Human remains. Two adults who appear to have been shot in the head.”
    “Roger that, fifteen-sixty-three. Please hold.” Kevin unscrewed the lid of his thermos and took a swig. He almost spat the mouthful out. His hot chocolate had gone cold and gritty.
    “Kevin?” MacAuley’s voice crackled over the radio. “What’s this about the burn vics having GSWs?”
    “We found remains,” Kevin repeated. “Two adults. Both of them with what appeared to be gunshot wounds to the skull.”
    “What’s the arson guy say?”
    Flynn unzipped his parka and let the heat seep inside. “There was accelerant all over the place. Looks like someone walked around the house with a twenty-five-gallon can of gasoline.”
    There was a pause, during which, Kevin knew, MacAuley was swearing. Finally his radio came on again. “Roger that,” MacAuley said. “Harlene says the ME’s on his way. I’ll let the chief know. I got a feeling this is gonna put a cramp in his honeymoon.”

 
    8.
    Russ closed his eyes. God. “Okay. Obviously this is top priority.” He opened his eyes again. Lyle was still standing there, a sorry-to-be-the-bearer-of-bad-tidings expression on his face. “I’m authorizing any overtime necessary. Call me with updates.”
    “You’re still going off on your vacation?”
    “Jesus, Lyle. You take off every other day during hunting season. I can’t get a week off for my damn honeymoon?”
    “We’re looking at a double homicide! Who’s gonna run the investigation if you’re away? Eric’s—” Lyle dropped his voice, even though the only other person in the station was Harlene, and she knew everybody’s business already. “Eric can’t take lead on this. He’s on night shift right now. He’s barely clocking thirty hours with all his…” Lyle made a vague gesture. “Stuff.”
    Sergeant Eric McCrea’s “stuff” was two anger-management sessions a week and therapy with his estranged wife. All of