Blurred Lines

‘Detective Logan Fraser,’ I said, raising my voice to be heard. ‘I’ve been asked to assist the Justice Department with the case.’

I’d slipped through the people gathered around the crime scene tape without anyone noticing me. They clustered together, a mix of reporters and the public trying to discover what had happened. The buzz of their conversation hummed in my ears. Most of it was rumour, so far from the truth that it was an effort not to roll my eyes.

Of course, it wasn’t hard to understand why there was so much interest. A murder itself might not have been news in Edinburgh, but this body had been found in an old Gothic church that had been converted into a theatre. The news was going to eat it up.

The building was large, with pointed arches that framed multi-coloured stained-glass windows. Tall spires rose from the roof, years of water pouring down, turning the aged stone varying shades of brown, making it look like the walls were weeping. The front doors were massive, painted a bright scarlet.

The atmosphere was only partially ruined by the cheap marketing posters for upcoming plays, mostly tragedies. It looked like Calamity Theatre was playing to the strengths of the building’s ambience. With an actual murder on site, it wouldn’t surprise me if that only added to their marketing campaign.

Beyond the crowd, a few police uniforms were scattered about, sweating in their gear due to the mild February weather. For once, my old knee-length leather jacket fit the temperature. Normally it was too cold or too damned hot. But it was a gift from my daughter, and that balanced out the rest.

As I’d pushed through the last of the group, a few reporters had finally noticed me and called for a comment. I ignored them, showing my ID to one of the police uniforms.

The man raised his eyebrow at me but lifted the tape to let me through. ‘Isn’t it a bit early for Justice to need someone to play fetch?’ he said.

‘Just doing what I’ve been told,’ I said, shrugging, irritation rising. But it wasn’t the officer’s fault, and he wasn’t wrong. Justice didn’t share jurisdiction well and treated the police like their personal errand boys. Fetch was a nicer term than most would have used. ‘How long has the scene been set up?’

I quickly scanned the area as I waited for him to answer. There was still a lot of activity. At least one Seer walked with her assistant around the outside of the building, one hand close to the wall as she Delved for visions of the past.

Early in my career, I’d once heard Delving compared to catching spiderwebs with your bare hands. Each vision was a tiny wisp of silk that stuck to their fingers; if you weren’t careful, it would break apart before you could catch all the image. It took patience and skill, and some threads were easier to catch than others.

‘The Seers arrived maybe three or four hours ago,’ the man said, glancing behind him at the old church. ‘You draw the short straw or something?’

I shook my head, unease sliding down my neck. No wonder they were still here. A building the size of Calamity Theatre would take hours for the Seers to Delve. But why the hell would Justice have invited a police detective into a murder scene before all the evidence had been collected? There was too much risk of contaminating the Seers’ visions.

‘Maybe they already have the killer?’ the man said, shrugging again, attention shifting back to the crowd as they tried to inch closer. ‘Who knows with Justice? The Seers never tell us anything.’

‘Maybe,’ I said, but I doubted it. They wouldn’t have needed me if they had the killer already. Not that it mattered either way. I was going to have to report in, regardless.

‘Go on in, and good luck,’ the man said, giving me a tight smile. ‘It’s Galloway in charge.’

Sophie Galloway. Just what I needed. I forced my shoulders down and back straight. The Head of Edinburgh Justice was an icy woman with no patience. The one time I’d met her, it had left me feeling like I was back to the first day on the job. Nearly fifteen years of experience meant nothing under her scrutiny.

The man stepped back to stop a reporter as she tried to slip under the tape. I hesitated before continuing. The cop hadn’t even looked at my ID. At least that meant I didn’t have to explain the London credentials again. I’d been stationed with the Edinburgh Police for a month, but the transfer had been anything but smooth or organised.

I shook my head and headed towards the church. A man in a suit was stationed in front of the large wooden doors. He stood at an angle to avoid the glare from the blue lights reflecting in the old stained-glass windows. He looked more like a bouncer than a crime scene assistant with his wide shoulders and a thick tree-trunk neck.

Not seeing any other obvious entry points, I headed in his direction. As I got closer, there was no doubt he worked for Justice. One side of his suit jacket showed the bulge of a hidden gun, and his stance was just a little too tense and watchful. A crime scene warden, most likely. A combination of police, bodyguard and general dogsbody, except unlike the police, they got to carry guns. They worked directly for Justice, providing security for the Seers, giving them a different set of rules than police like me.

It made me miss my time in America and really hate the stupid UK laws about guns. It was a fight that had long since been lost by people far more articulate than me, but it didn’t make me like it any better.

‘We already have enough uniforms doing perimeter security,’ the crime scene warden said as I climbed the steps and drew level. He didn’t even wait for me to tell him who I was as he rubbed the stubble on his chin. A lanyard hung around his neck, Justice Department printed in large letters, and just one name was written underneath. Grady.

I might have made it past the police tape, but despite being invited, I doubted getting past this guy would be as easy. But again, if they weren’t ready to hand over the scene, why waste my time and invite me here?

‘I’m not here to provide crime scene security,’ I said, giving the man a tight-lipped smile. There was no way he’d missed my lack of uniform, even if he was pretending not to pay attention. ‘I’ve been told to report to the Seer in charge of the scene.’

‘This is a Justice Department case—a murder,’ Grady said, the emphasis on the last word so heavy he might as well be saying I was an idiot. I wasn’t. I knew where the jurisdiction of murder fell. ‘If Justice’s Seers need your assistance, I’m sure they’ll send you the details of where to go.’

‘They have,’ I said, waiting a heartbeat for the man to look up and make eye contact. His gaze was hard and unwavering. I should probably try to be polite since he looks more than happy to shoot me. Hell, he might just enjoy the opportunity. ‘My boss said to report here. My name is Detective Logan Fraser.’

The man’s lip twitched like he wanted to tell me to shove it. The Justice Department didn’t like working with the police at the best of times, but that twitch gave him away—he already knew to expect me, regardless of what he said. Looks like someone wasn’t interested in playing nice today. Or someone had told him not to. Politics was another reason I hated working with Justice.

‘The Seers are still working. Until they’ve finished, I’m not supposed to allow anyone not authorised inside,’ Grady said, smiling with his teeth. ‘You understand, I’m sure.’

Which took me back to my first question. If they were still investigating, why had I been invited?

I gave him a tight smile, fighting to hold on to a semi-polite tone, but I didn’t get the chance to speak. The door opened, revealing a familiar face: Sophie’s assistant. I’d worked with Charlotte once before, and that was enough. She was a large woman with dark auburn hair and a round face. Today, it was screwed up in a disapproving scowl.

‘You’re late,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘You should’ve been here half an hour ago. I’ll be having a word with your DCI about your punctuality.’

I ground my teeth together like I could crush the response I wanted to give. She wouldn’t care that I’d got lost on unfamiliar streets or stuck in traffic. I was pretty sure I could’ve been half an hour early, and it still wouldn’t have been enough.

Grady lifted his chin. ‘He hasn—’

‘I don’t have time for this. Miss Galloway has asked for DS Fraser,’ Charlotte said, giving Grady a nudge with the door so she could open it the rest of the way. ‘If you’ve got an issue with that, then please feel free to raise it with her. Later.’

The man hesitated, but he just couldn’t seem to let it go. ‘I’m under orders to not allow anyone in.’

‘How else do you think we’re going to hand this shitshow over to the police?’ Charlotte said, giving the man a disdainful look. His eyes widened in surprise. I didn’t doubt mine mirrored his. That trickle of unease became a river.

‘This isn’t a murder?’ Grady said cautiously, giving me another look like I was the one who’d done something wrong.

‘Of course it’s murder. Do you really think we’d have wasted this much time having Seers Delve the building if it hadn’t been? Now, enough questions. Miss Galloway doesn’t have all day,’ Charlotte said, turning back to me. ‘DS Fraser, follow me.’

I kept my mouth shut as I slipped past Grady, mostly because I wasn’t sure what to say. Justice rarely passed murder investigations on. Unless there were no visions. But that wasn’t what Charlotte had said. What the hell was going on, and why had I been the one picked to deal with it?

***

Calamity Theatre’s lobby was a large, two-storey high room that had held onto its original architecture and then spoiled it with modern displays of sweets and merchandise stalls. More advertisement posters covered the walls, along with signs directing people to the different seats. The sickly sweet smell of popcorn filled the room.

Crime scene assistants clustered in the lobby, stacking boxes of evidence into a growing pile. A Seer with emerald-green eyes paced the room, guided by another assistant with a notebook in her free hand.

For a case the Justice Department was supposedly handing over, there was a surprising amount of activity.

A large bucket of used blue crime scene gloves was overflowing by the door. The gloves didn’t entirely stop the bleed-through of psychic energy into a crime scene, but they helped reduce passive contact. The sheer number of used gloves wasn’t a good sign. A single murder victim, even in a high-profile place like a theatre, shouldn’t require this many people. I pulled a new set of gloves from the box and shoved them into one of my pockets.

‘Have they found anything yet?’ I asked Charlotte as she picked up a clipboard by the door and wrote my name and the time in clear, flowing handwriting.

‘Lots,’ Charlotte said, putting the clipboard back as she turned to watch the Seer.

The Seer’s green eyes were focused on a point near the floor as she ran her hand over the wall. There was a certainty in her step that spoke of years of being blind. But that was true for almost all crime scene Delvers. It took a long time for them to train to work in the field. By then, they’d learned how to deal with the blindness that always came with the Seer abilities. One sight in exchange for another. Blind to the world around them, and eyes that turned green. Be it Truth Seeking, Delving, or Foresight, it was always an exchange. One that could come at any point in their lives.

‘The Scene Delvers are doing the best they can,’ Charlotte added with a sigh. ‘But it’s giving us nothing relevant to the murder. I hate crime scenes like this; too public. Too much information.’

Delving would let a Seer view the recent history of what they were touching, letting them watch fragments of the past. It was the primary source of evidence used by the government to convict killers. Since a conviction would mean execution, they would never rely on any other evidence, especially not anything scientific. Even if America had been doing just fine with fingerprints and DNA for years.

Of course, even science would still have struggled with a crime scene like a theatre. There were too many fingerprints and similar evidence that could have been left at any point over the last few weeks.

‘A murder should still stand out among the rest of the visions,’ I said, not mentioning science. I’d been back from America for almost ten years, and I’d long since learned a suggestion like that would do little to help anyone. Justice was happy with how things worked, and they’d no desire to change anything.

‘And yet it hasn’t,’ Charlotte said, frustration evident in her voice as well as her motions. ‘But enough dawdling, let’s—’

‘This is my crime scene, Louise, and I’ve already made my decision.’ Sophie’s voice was as sharp as a whip as it slashed through the room. I wasn’t the only one who turned to stare at her.

She stood at the far end of the lobby. Her hair was chopped short in a pixie cut, grey throughout, and her eyes a deep forest green. She shouldn’t have been imposing at her sixty-plus years and five-foot height, but the way she held herself, stiff and unbending, made everyone stop and pay attention. The one case I’d worked with her so far wouldn’t be one I’d forget soon, if only partly because it was my first case when I’d arrived in Edinburgh.

She was facing a bronze-skinned woman, Louise, I presumed from the snip of conversation. With her dark brown eyes, she wasn’t a Seer.

Charlotte marched towards the pair as if sensing the frustration and settled next to Sophie after saying a quiet word.

Going by the way Louise tugged at her short frizzy black hair, she wasn’t any happier than Sophie.

‘The Head of Scottish Justice has asked—’

‘Then she should’ve raised her concern before I initiated the transfer,’ Sophie said, interrupting Louise. ‘It has already been completed.’

Louise’s skin flushed darker as she was interrupted. ‘She wasn’t aware of the circumstances we discussed before. She wishes me to ensure that the case is resolved promptly.’

Whatever was going on, it was obvious they weren’t about to include me, despite the fact I’d been summoned. I resisted the urge to insert myself into the conversation. I’d been dressed down by Sophie in the month since I’d arrived here already. No need to give her more ammunition against me.

‘Then, I’m sure you’ll be able to assist DS Fraser in his investigation,’ Sophie said, turning in my direction. Though I knew she couldn’t see me, there was a sense of being watched and judged. For a woman who barely reached my shoulder, she somehow managed to make me feel small.

Louise choked, struggling to get words out.

‘Unless you think that’s beyond your abilities?’ Sophie added. ‘I can assign another to the case.’

‘That will not be necessary,’ Louise said, turning to me for the first time. ‘Providing he can keep up.’

I gave her a smile, but I don’t think it helped as Louise narrowed her eyes and turned away.

‘Excuse me. I need to make a phone call. I’m sure DS Fraser could do with a moment to become familiar with the case,’ Louise said, already pulling out her phone and turning away.

Sophie waited until Louise had stalked out of range before she spoke. ‘DS Fraser, please don’t antagonise one of our Senior Justice Assistants. You may have got away with this in London or America, but I expect a higher level of professionalism here.’

I smiled again instead of rolling my eyes at her warning. Sophie might be blind, but she saw a lot more than she should. Charlotte had a lot to do with that.

‘And yet you asked for me personally,’ I said, then wished I could take it back as Charlotte glared at me.

‘Yes, well, our choices were limited,’ Sophie said, mouth twisting like she wanted to spit out a sour taste. ‘We needed an investigator, and you fit the bill.’

An investigator. The word was heavy with emphasis. She could have said detective, but she hadn’t. I suspected the choice of word was deliberate here. But why? Maybe it had something to do with what Charlotte had said about the Seers not finding anything on the murderer?

‘Were the Delvers or Corpse Whisperers not able to see what killed the victim?’ I asked, feeling five steps behind. Usually, a Corpse Whisperer could see the victim’s last moments. It was the most common way to find a murderer.

‘No, there are visions of what happened,’ Sophie said, letting out a small sigh. ‘Multiple of them.’

I exhaled sharply. Why was I here if they knew what had happened? ‘So, what was the cause of death?’

They spoke at the same time.

‘Stabbed,’ Charlotte said.

‘Shot,’ Sophie said.

‘Which one?’ I asked, looking between them. I was beginning to feel like I was the butt of a joke I wasn’t following.

‘Both,’ Sophie said.

‘I’m sorry?’ I asked. They stared at me with straight faces, with no sign of humour or mocking.

‘The Corpse Whisperer saw him stabbed and shot,’ Sophie said, shaking her head. ‘The victim was the lead in multiple plays, it would seem. He’s died on stage so many times that none of my people have been able to confirm the true cause of death for certain.’

Watching the crime scene Delvers moving carefully through the room, I finally saw the real issue. Justice’s usual methods were failing because the emotions from the play were leaving impressions just as strong—or stronger—than the murder itself.

I’d lost count of how many times someone from Justice had told me, with absolute certainty, that nothing could surpass a Seer’s vision. But this case proved otherwise. Here, emotion was clouding the truth—and the Seers couldn’t see past it. I wisely kept my mouth shut.

‘You’ll provide us with answers, Detective, quickly. I won’t have this dragged out,’ Sophie said, her lips pressed into a thin line, warning me to be careful with my words.

‘You think it’s going to be that simple?’ I asked. Seers’ visions replaced the need for science. But without one or the other, finding evidence wasn’t going to be easy.

‘You’re an investigator, are you not?’ Sophie said, stepping closer with a confidence that made me forget she couldn’t see me. ‘Investigate.’

I exhaled slowly. Sophie was angry. I could see it there under the surface. Whether it was at me or the fact her people couldn’t solve this on their own, I wasn’t sure. But either way, I’d have to be careful. This woman could make life very difficult for me.

‘I understand,’ I said at last, forcing my jaw to unclench. There really wasn’t any other answer I could give, even if I wanted to.

‘Good. You’ll have Louise as your link to my people. If you need something, ask her, and she will organise it,’ Sophie said, turning away, then she stopped and added, ‘You’re in charge, Logan. For now, at least. Don’t make me regret it.’

Charlotte led Sophie away towards the front door without another word. I turned, finding Louise behind me. There was no doubt she’d heard Sophie’s last words because Louise looked like she’d bitten into a lemon. The police did what the Justice Department asked, not the other way around. Any hope I might’ve had of a good working relationship with Louise evaporated. Sophie had just found an excellent reason for Louise to hate me. Not that she seemed to need any.

‘I want to see the body,’ I said, deciding the best bet was to start at the beginning. Treat it like any other investigation.

‘Follow me,’ she said, spinning on her heel and heading towards an open door. She didn’t wait to see if I was following. I sighed and hurried after her. This wasn’t going to end well.