Eight
Ambrose pulls up the magical tape for me to duck under. The crime scene looks completely different in the stark light of day compared to how it was on Friday night when everything was still smoking.
The house is completely destroyed. The windows have all been blown out, shards of glass scattered everywhere. The walls are streaked black with soot and the lingering smell is harsh on my nose.
A chill runs down my spine. Somehow, this is worse than it was when the fire brigade had just finished putting out the flames. An entire life has been erased, and it didn't even take very long.
"Somehow, it's not what I expected," I admit.
"I'm sorry, I know it's not pleasant."
"It's okay, you don't have to apologise. I'm here because I want to help," I assure him. "Although I'm not sure why
