Huntian

Huntian

A Short Novel

By Lavren Le'Clore

Copyright 2018

Lavren Le'Clore

First Smashwords Edition

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidences either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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ISBN: 9781370874316

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Six Months Later

Connect with Lavren Le’Clore

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Chapter 1

The late afternoon sky was dark and menacing. Stormy clouds drifted in with the prevailing winds that flowed inland from the restless sea. An unpleasant chill smothered the dwindling heat. Surrounding pine trees swayed in melancholy unison, unhindered by the incoming draft. All other sound had been snuffed out. Only that of the agitated sea and chill which drifted over the landscape.

Aura Lark was curled up in a chair on the front porch of her home overlooking the beach below. She was motionless as the relentless cold penetrated despite the thick blanket which enveloped her. Cheeks numbed, the chill sliding beneath her blanket, she shivered as she continued gazing aimlessly out to sea. Her mind was numb with shock at the recent tragedy.

The funeral attended earlier had been long and difficult. Many from around the city had arrived to pay their respects. Yet despite all the comfort and support, nothing contained her deteriorating emotional condition. She was alone in a large empty house, with hundreds of happy memories surrounding her. She had no close friends and those who accompanied her home, had left her to her own devices. This was far preferable since she was in no mood to entertain.

Detective Dustin Lark, her father, had been the last of her family. There were a few distant cousins, an aunt and uncle. She had adored and respected the man responsible for raising her. He had loved her, unconditionally. It came as a cataclysmic shock when Detective Carter Hunt, accompanied by two police officers arrived at the door to break the terrible news. Her beloved father, brutally murdered three days ago on his way home. Apparently a car accident, late at night. Yet from the state of his undamaged vehicle and mutilated body, this was no accident.

Detective Chief Inspector Lark was well known throughout the district. He had gained notoriety with almost all of his cases, successfully closing most. As a result crime was reduced and a safer town created for all. His instinct was so true that it permitted him to heed his gut feeling ahead of training and experience. Criminals came to fear his detecting abilities. His reputation as an uncompromising law enforcer was known and feared. There were few escapees.

Yet alongside the fame, he had also attracted twice as much hate and three times the need for revenge. Only those in prison sought retribution to please themselves. Those who had served their time did not want to face him again for another extended holiday behind bars. He was well respected by members of the public as he was fair and unbiased. His demise would leave a huge gap in the lives of those who had encountered him.

Aura had inherited some of her father’s talent along with a fair dose of intelligence. She had pursued a career to become a successful corporate lawyer, leaving her father to convict the criminals he unerringly pursued to the end. Having followed some of her father’s footsteps, she was aware of the daunting effort his job had required. She feared the risks her father had continuously faced, swearing she would not do the same to her children.

Aura shivered uncontrollably as she clutched the blanket to her. She replayed the last moments spent with her father, over and over again. The contented expression on his face before he left that fateful morning, proudly beaming down at her. Each replay forced down the immense weight of grief. The sudden and unexpected manner of his demise repeatedly washed over her.

Warm tears slipped from beneath her eyelids, freezing the path down her cheeks. The cold wind spread them, further numbing her stiff face. Aura could not come to terms with the fact that he was no longer coming home. She half-expected him to arrive at any moment. He had always comforted her when she had been distressed or worried.

She struggled to reach closure. She had not identified the body. Detective Hunt, the Officer in Charge had refused her access. He believed that her father would want her to remember him as he was when he was alive. She trusted the detective but could find no solace in his words.

Regaining control, Aura wiped away the stinging tears from her cheeks. She dabbed her eyes with the sleeves of her shirt. Memories associated with her mother calmed her as she stared out to sea. Her father had always told her that the sea was a favourite place. She watched the uneven waters ripple towards her, felt the instability invade her world. This was a spot they had all enjoyed but now everything had been turned upside down.

Miss Lark, you should not be out in the cold! Detective Hunt's concern halted her slide into despair.

My dad and I used to sit out here for hours, gazing out to sea. Aura’s trembling voice broke.

It’s a spectacular sight.

It reminded us both of my Mother.

I know, he’s finally with her, came the sympathetic reply.

Now I’m all alone, emotion overcame her.

You’re never alone, even though it may feel like it.

Thank you, Detective.

Let’s get you inside and warm, he insisted.

Aura remained silent making no effort to move. She was too cold and stiff. He made his way to her as she lifted her head. Aura reluctantly removed the blanket for the detective to assist. But, Hunt surprised her by wrapping it around her. He slipped his hands under her knees and behind her back to lift and carry her through the door.

Stepping into the silent, empty house, the detective gently set her down on a large couch. Quiet and distant, she gazed aimlessly around her. Straightening, the Detective watched, worry etched on his face. Her skin was ice cold and she was trembling. He was concerned that she had gotten to that state. Covering her with the blanket he returned to the front door and closed it, shutting out the cold. Flicking on the light switch and forcing out the darkness, he turned back to study her again.

Aura was still shivering violently, even with the thick blanket around her. Although he had stopped the cold air the house remained chilled. She was not warming up. The Detective crouched before the fireplace next to the couch. There was wood already prepared. He located the gas lighter on the mantle ledge and lit the paper set beneath. Ensuring it was burning properly, he hauled himself back up to his feet.

Miss Lark, may I make you some tea or coffee?

I’m fine Detective, thank you.

Let me make you something, it won’t take long, he insisted.

Coffee, two sugar, she turned back to the sea, still crashing outside the window.

Relieved, the Detective found his way to the kitchen. Switching on the light, he headed for the coffee maker, found it prepared and turned it on to percolate. Stretching up to a cupboard he located a coffee mug which he placed on the counter. While waiting for the coffee, leaned across the gas stove to close the blinds. Repeating the action on the other side of the kitchen, he continued into the living and dining area. Soon he had closed out the miserable weather throughout the house, upstairs included.

On his return to the kitchen, the coffee had percolated. Stirring up a steaming cup, he went back into the lounge. Aura had slipped off the couch onto the carpet, lured by the warmth of the fire. The blanket was wrapped loose around her and she appeared to be thawing. She gratefully accepted the coffee, thanking him with the semblance of a smile. He crouched to stoke the fire and realised there was no more wood. The basket was next to the fireplace so he picked it up and left the house through the front door. He returned shortly after replenishing from the stockpile outside. Aura had not moved from her position while he was out. Placing the basket in its original position, Hunt stoked the fire and then took a seat beside Aura, absorbing some of the heat. Watching the flames, his mind drifted. He could not help but pity her. It was a brutal experience for anybody to suffer.

Detective Hunt, have you any new leads? Aura finally broke the silence.

I’m afraid not Miss Lark, but I assure you I will not give up, he said. He had been the first person to attend the scene of the accident.

You sound just like him, she whispered.

I will find out who’s responsible.

Please call me as soon as you do.

Of course, you’ll be the first to know.

The vibration from within Detective Hunt’s coat caught their attention. He retrieved the mobile phone from his coat pocket and read the message from his partner. Weaver updated him on recent events and discoveries.

Pardon me, Miss Lark, I need to get back to the station.

Is it about my father’s case?

Yes, although it’s nothing of relevance.

Keep me informed, she pleaded.

I’ll update you once I know more, will you be okay on your own?

I’ll be fine, thank you, Detective.

Call me Carter, and I’ll check up on you when I’m done, he said, hauling himself to his feet.

There’s no need Detective, Carter, I’ll be fine, she repeated.

Very well then, I’ll stop by in the morning. If you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to give me a call.

Good night.

Aura felt the chill after Hunt left and leaned in closer to the flames, absorbing the radiating heat. She finished her coffee and carefully placed the cup on the table beside her.

With the departure of the Detective, the silence of the empty house was daunting and eerie. Suppressed grief overwhelmed her again. The gaping hole in her heart ached as she gazed into the flames, watching images unfold, remembering the happy and sad times. The silence of the empty house was oppressive.

Clenching her fist in anger, Aura longed for justice. Who was responsible and why? She had skills, training, and instinct. From that moment fury replaced her grief and sadness. This was what she needed to save her sanity. The images in the fire began to fade and it was not long before she found herself focusing on recent events. Aura realised that her father had been obsessed with a case with which he had been struggling for well over a year. Despite the time and effort, he had been unable to place the pieces of the puzzle. It occurred to her that although she was no detective, she did have the knack of ferreting out hidden information.

Warm from her coffee, Aura was reluctant to leave the fire. She wrapped the blanket around her and climbed to her feet. Using the couch as a temporary crutch she stretched her stiff muscles and joints. Lack of movement had slowed circulation and she staggered towards the stairs. Each step strengthened her focus and determination. By the time she made it upstairs to her father’s study, Aura moved with purpose, now alert. The room was large and square graced by his solid wooden desk. A spacious office chair backed by an enormous window overlooking the beach below. The sea beyond framed by bulky curtains which adorned the window. The wall to her left was pasted with pictures and scribblings. These related to active cases on which her father had been working. On one side was another fireplace, a replica of the one downstairs. To the wall on the right, a television screen, facing the desk and window.

Her father had spent most of his time in this study when he was not on the front porch. She had been rarely permitted to enter as he was reluctant for her to witness some of the active cases. Murders, although not common in the town, were sometimes gruesome. Her father did not like her to see the graphic images pinned on the wall.

This was the first time she had entered since sometime before his death. A quick glance at his picture wall revealed nothing unusual