The Scent of Death by Simon Beckett

Author:Simon Beckett
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781409043065
Publisher: Transworld

Chapter 18

The woman was a shadow surrounded by sunlight. Motes of dust floated in the air around her, barely moving flecks of light. I could only see her silhouette in the doorway, but I knew who she was. The knowledge froze my heart. Slowly, her face gained form and feature as she came nearer. Long, raven hair. Dark eyebrows above dead eyes and skin white as bone. Her beauty was terrifying. I wanted to scream, to run.

I couldn’t move.

The full mouth was parted in a smile as she leaned towards me. I could smell her scent, a subtle, spiced musk. Her breath feathered against my skin as she put her lips to my ear.

‘Hello, David.’

She was closer now, staring at me with a gaze so empty it burned. Knowing what was about to happen, I watched helplessly as she took out the knife. Its blade caught the sunlight.

‘You let me go,’ Grace said, and slid the knife into my stomach …

I jerked awake with a cry. A ghost-odour of musk and spice seemed to linger, but it was gone even as I searched for it. Gasping for breath, my heart thudded as I stared into the shadows in the bedroom. Outside the window it was still dark, but enough light came from the street below for me to see that the room was empty. I sagged, the tension draining from me.

Christ. What the hell brought that on? The glowing numerals of the bedside clock showed it was after five. Knowing I’d slept all I was going to, I threw back the duvet and stood up. Night-sweat cooled on my skin as I padded over to the window and looked down. The fire engine had gone, but there was still a faint odour of smoke in the air.

That was probably what had triggered the nightmare.

It was the first time in several days I’d had the dream, and I’d begun to think I’d left it behind. I passed my hand over my face, shaky with adrenaline. Dawn wasn’t far off. Even as I stood there, a bird began singing from one of the trees outside. Within moments it had been joined by others, nature’s chorus announcing a new day.

My feet sank into the thick-pile carpet as I went into the en suite bathroom and turned on the shower. I stayed under the steaming jet until the last vestiges of the dream had been sluiced away, then made sure by running the water cold for a few seconds.

Feeling more awake, I switched on the radio as I made breakfast. Scrambled eggs and toast, with coffee. I considered making an effort with the elaborate coffee machine but soon lost interest: instant was fine.

The memory of what had happened with Mears the night before continued to rankle, but less than it had. When it came down to it, I’d done it more for the investigation – and Ward – than him. Even so, once was enough. If he fouled up again he was on his own.

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