Burning Secrets (Lily Larkin Mysteries #8)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

The boutique hotel near Truro station was small and cosy, but not so intimate that Lily felt self-conscious. After almost six hours on trains from London, she’d opted for dinner in the hotel restaurant and was happy to find it busy enough that the staff didn’t have time to attempt small talk.

After devouring a chicken salad, she moved to the lounge area and sipped a glass of red wine by the wood burner.

A businessman tapped on his laptop at the bar, and a young couple chatted quietly over drinks at a table close to Lily.

From her bag, she retrieved her own laptop along with the stack of Christmas cards she’d retrieved from Richard Harper that morning.

Setting her computer on the table, she took the cards from their paper bag and let her eyes linger on her grandmother’s handwriting. She’d spent most of the day staring at them and searching for hidden meanings or messages.

But there was nothing. All she ever signed was her name: Clara Cotton.

Just looking at her handwriting made Lily’s emotions riot. Could her grandmother really be alive? And if she were, why hadn’t she ever tried to contact Lily?

Breathing through her nose, she opened her laptop and was faced with the simple website which was her only clue as to how she might track down her grandmother.

The antique clock chimed in the corner, and she leaned her head against the wing of the armchair. She should message Flynn and let him know she’d arrived.

Her phone vibrated as she took it from her pocket.

“Did you read my mind?” she asked, smiling as she answered. “I was just about to message you.”

“You made it to Truro then?”

“Yes. The train was annoyingly slow, but it gave me space to think. And time to pore over the Christmas cards.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Not apart from the shop where they were bought.” She’d messaged him about it on the train when she’d spotted that they all had either a logo for Marcie’s Gifts, or a price label with the shop name on.

“So all the cards were bought from the same place?” Flynn asked.

“Yes. A gift shop in Malporth.”

“How small is this place? It’s just a village, right?”

“Yeah. It’s a couple of miles outside of Truro, by the river. There’s pretty much one road – and that’s a dead end. The village has a pub and a church and a couple of rows of houses, but that’s about it.”

“And a gift shop,” Flynn said.

“Yes.”

“I wonder if your gran still lives there.”

“I can’t imagine so, but if she does, it should be very easy to find her.” Her throat tightened. “I should have gone back to Malporth after Uncle Derek died. I was living in Truro for almost six months while I trawled Cornwall to track down the ice cream shop.”

“You never went back to where you grew up?”

“I went once. But I didn’t recognise anything and I got a bit freaked out, so I didn’t hang around. It really didn’t occur to me that there might still be people there who knew my parents.” She let out a frustrated breath. “Or my long-lost grandmother, back from the dead.”

She felt like an idiot now. A little over a year ago she’d been in Truro hunting for the ice cream shop from her childhood memories, and now she’d come full circle. Except this time she was searching for her grandmother.

“What’s the plan?” Flynn asked. “You’re staying in the hotel tonight, then going to Malporth tomorrow?”

“Yes. I can pick up the rental car from nine tomorrow, but I can’t check into the accommodation in Malporth until three.”

“You could just go there earlier and have a look around. Check out the gift shop and ask around about your gran.”

“I think I’ll wait until I can check into the accommodation – that way I have somewhere to retreat to if I need it.”

He sighed. “I’m sorry I can’t be there.”

“It’s fine.” A hum of contentment buzzed through her. “Of all the reasons for you not to join me, having to stay in London and pack up your life is about the best I can think of.”

“Me too. The next couple of weeks are going to go so fast. Starting tonight, I have four night shifts and then I’m done with the Met.”

She scratched her earlobe. “I thought you were working for two more weeks.”

“I have two weeks before I start work on Scilly, but they said if I can do the night shifts, I can have a bit of time in between.”

“That makes sense.” She relaxed further into the chair as the fire crackled beside her. “I guess we’re both going to have an interesting week or two.”

“How long do you think you’ll stay in Truro?”

“I’ve booked accommodation in Malporth for a week.

But I’ll play it by ear. Maybe I’ll be back to hunting all over Cornwall.

Or maybe Clara’s not in the area any more.

Who knows? If I can’t find her within a week or so, I’ll head back to Scilly and keep digging from there.

I plan to be there when you get back at the latest.”

“Good.” He paused. “Are you going to ask questions about the fire, or are you focusing on finding Clara?”

“Both,” she said wearily. “I really don’t know what to expect. I’ve no idea if any of my old neighbours will still live in the area.” She sat up straighter. “I can probably find that out. I could check the Land Registry to see who owns the houses on my old road.”

“It’s worth a look,” Flynn said. “The electoral roll might give you some information too.”

“That’s a good idea. Hopefully, there’s still someone living in the area who knew my parents.”

“If anyone can figure out what happened back then, it’s you.”

“I hope so. Investigating my own past feels very different, though. It’s all so personal.”

“Every investigation has been personal for you. That’s why you’re so good at it. You don’t give up.”

“But this one feels more important. I’m desperate to find out what happened. And being so desperate feels like a road to disappointment.”

“You’ll be okay,” he said softly. “I’ll be available to chat during the day whenever you need me.”

“You may need to sleep at some point,” she pointed out.

“No.” The teasing in his voice made her smile. “Sleep is for weaklings. I’m above it.”

She chuckled, then cast a serious glance at her laptop. “I can’t imagine I’m going to get much sleep tonight. Maybe staring at government websites while I try to track down my old neighbours will be a good way to lull me off.”

“I’ll let you get on with it.” His words came soft and comforting. “Seriously, though, call me anytime. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

After ending the call, she sat staring into the fire.

She had no idea what the next few days might bring, but her instincts told her she was in for an emotional rollercoaster.