The Art of Dying by Amy Cross

Author:Amy Cross [Cross, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-05-18T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Six

Laura

“Bryony Hawthorne!” I shout as I force the door open. “You're under arrest on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say can be -”

Stopping in the middle of the chaotic bedroom, I stare at the bed itself and realize that it's empty. The duvet has been pulled aside and there's a rumpled patch where someone clearly has been sleeping, but for a moment I start to worry that somehow she was tipped off about us and managed to get away. I have visions of newspaper headlines splashing the news that Detective Laura Foster has somehow allowed a serial killer to slip away into the night. There'll be more deaths, more bodies, more horror...

Turning back to the door, I pause before hearing a toilet flushing nearby. A fraction of a second later, a side door opens and a young woman steps out with a startled look on her face, while wearing a faded old t-shirt and some jogging bottoms.

“Who the hell are you?” she asks.

“Bryony Hawthorne?” I reply with relief, as Nick prepares the handcuffs.

“Yeah,” she continues. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”

“Bryony Hawthorne,” I continue as Nick makes his way behind her and starts attaching the handcuffs, “you're under arrest on suspicion of multiple counts of murder. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult legal counsel, and if you don't have a lawyer, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as I've explained them to you?”

“What are you talking about?” she asks, pulling away from Nick and stumbling over a pile of clothes as she heads to her bed.

“Bryony,” I reply, “we need you to come with us.”

Hearing a noise nearby, I turn to see that Bryony's housemates are standing by the door. I guess it's not every day that the police come storming into their shared house.

“Can you leave us alone, please?” I ask them.

No reply. They just stare at us, goggle-eyed.

“Can you leave us alone, please?” I ask again. “This is police business.”

As they head back along the corridor and start muttering to one another, I turn back to Bryony. She looks absolutely shocked, as if she never in a million years expected anything like this to happen. I've seen killers at the moment when they're caught, and there's always a glint in their eyes, the faintest hint that they know the game's up. Right now, I see nothing like that in Bryony's expression; all I see is fear and confusion. If she's acting, she's doing a hell of a job.

“Laura?” Nick mutters.

I turn to him.

“Do you want to do the honors, or should I?”

“I...” Turning to Bryony, I realize that this situation feels very wrong. At the same time, I can't exactly stop now, not with all the evidence pointing at her. “We found your prints at the site,” I tell her.

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