No Mark Upon Her

drive’s entrance. As he drove through and pulled the car onto the grass, the stench hit them like a wave. Was he only imagining the distinct signature of charred flesh beneath the acrid tang of smoke?
    Then he looked up and saw the house.
    “God,” whispered Doug beside him.
    The lovely, rosy brick was blackened, the windows shattered, the roof caving in in places. It was clear that the blaze had raged out of control before the fire brigade arrived.
    Two of the pumpers still stood in the drive, like red sentinels, hoses snaking into the house. A group of men in plainclothes stood aside from the firefighters and uniformed officers, and it was impossible to mistake Chief Superintendent Denis Childs’s bulk. As Kincaid and Cullen climbed out of the Astra and walked over, he separated himself and came to meet them.
    “What happened?” Kincaid asked, not trusting himself to say more.
    “The alarm came in at two A.M ., but the entire structure was fully involved by the time the brigade got here. They’ve only managed to get a team inside half an hour ago.” Childs wore his Burberry coat over corduroys and an old jumper, and his usually immaculate dark hair was uncombed and ruffled by the wind.
    The oddness of seeing his chief so disheveled added to Kincaid’s sense of unreality. “Is it true? Both of them dead?”
    Nodding, Childs looked away.
    Kincaid swallowed. “How?”
    “According to the investigator”—Childs gestured towards a man coming out of the house, and Kincaid recognized the arson specialist from the scene at Kieran Connolly’s boatshed—“it looks like murder-suicide. The first assessment is that Mrs. Craig was shot at close range. Then it appears that Craig started the fire before shooting himself.”
    Kincaid shook his head. “I want to see it.” As he started towards the house, Childs clasped his arm in a firm grip. “You can’t go in, Duncan. It’s too hot. It will be hours yet, and then the scene has to be processed. You know that.”
    Shaking him off, Kincaid turned back. “What I know is that it didn’t have to happen this way. We should have used the warrant, taken him in. Craig would be in a cell waiting for his solicitor, and Edie Craig would be alive. I want to know exactly what you said to him.”
    “Guv—” Doug was looking at him in horror.
    Kincaid ignored him. He seemed to have lost control of his tongue. “Did you tell him to fall on his own gun? Did it not occur to you that he might take his wife with him?”
    Denis Childs looked at him impassively, and only someone who knew him very well would have seen the narrowing of his dark eyes. “Superintendent. You are out of line. I did no such thing. I merely—”
    “Extended the courtesy due a senior police officer.” Kincaid didn’t try to keep the disgust from his voice. “And now we have another victim, Edie Craig, and no doubt any forensic evidence linking Craig to Rebecca Meredith’s death is gone. Did Edie Craig not count? Did Becca Meredith not count?
    “And what about the other women whose lives he damaged—or took? Did they not deserve some sort of justice?” Kincaid stopped just long enough for a breath. “But this is all much tidier for the Met, isn’t it? RESPECTED FORMER OFFICER KILLED IN TRAGIC FIRE . ”
    Denis Childs shot Cullen a look that said he’d wish he were dead if he ever repeated a word of this conversation.
    Then, to Kincaid, he said in the level tones that made officers under his command tremble, “Justice? Don’t talk to me about justice, Duncan. Do you really think things would be better for these women, for their families, for their careers, if what happened to them were made public?
    “If it had been Gemma, would you want that? Would she want that?”
    “I—”
    “As for Jenny Hart”—Childs jabbed a finger the size of a sausage at him—“I will guarantee you that those DNA comparisons will be processed, and that the results of those tests will be made public, regardless of damage to the reputation of the Met.
    “And if you can find me anything concrete that ties Craig to Rebecca Meredith, I’ll do my best to see that his involvement in her death is made public as well.”
    “Off the record, is that it?”
    “If that’s the best means.” Childs gave Kincaid a considering glance. “These things can be arranged. I believe you are on close terms with an officer who has a connection to a major newspaper?”
    Kincaid gaped. He’d never repeated to anyone