Captcha Thief (Amy Lane Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF Page B

smirk would stay with him, he knew, as she walked away down the ramp and Jason followed. He couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Chapter 6
This land is my land
    Bryn watched Owain out of the corner of his eye, as the young detective put together the murder board.
    The detectives’ office at Central Police Station was open-plan, the walls lined with vast windows to look out onto Park Place. On the other side of Cathays Park and the Wales National War Memorial was their crime scene, the noble building in white marble a stark contrast to the ugly concrete the police force called home.
    The museum was completely shut down for the day, the staff falling over themselves to give the police every chance of returning their precious painting. But art theft wasn’t exactly Bryn’s area of expertise – hell, even murder was a rare event in the Welsh capital. He had phoned for assistance from the National Crime Agency and they’d promised to send someone down within the week.
    But by the end of the day, the painting could’ve left the country. It wasn’t like airport scanners and coastguards were set up to hunt down masterpieces shoved down the side of a suitcase. They didn’t have a sniffer dog for that.
    Bryn clicked on the folder in the corner of his desktop, called simply ‘updates’. A dozen CCTV stills and a file full of notes appeared, which he moved to a different folder – creatively named ‘old updates’ – and printed for Owain’s board.
    He hadn’t wanted Amy involved in this case, but Jason had pushed him and, like a fool, he’d relented. The acting detective superintendent wanted to fend off any hint of irregularity after the scandal that had hit the department earlier in the year, and Amy was definitely an irregularity.
    He handed the pictures to Owain, who pinned the series of CCTV images around the crime scene photos. ‘These images fit with Indira’s preliminary report, though she hadn’t realised the hammer was … lodged like that. He was dead within a minute, she reckons.’
    A few curious onlookers came over to gawp, but they retreated at Bryn’s glare.
    ‘Anything else?’
    ‘Prints and DNA still processing, but he’s gloved and masked, so not much chance of transfer. I’ve asked Catriona to compare this to European art heists from the past five years to see if the MO matches.’
    Catriona Aitken was only a detective constable so Owain technically outranked her, but as lead investigator, Bryn should be giving the orders. Maybe Owain was trying on the rank of inspector, seeing how it fitted. Because the rumour mill had it that the new detective superintendent would be coming from within the ranks, leaving a vacant detective inspector post for the taking.
    And all eyes were on Bryn.
    Of course, he should be ranked detective chief inspector to apply for the post, but their last DCI had retired three years ago and the higher-ups had never got round to appointing another. Interview phases would come and go, but it worked out better for the budget if the existing inspectors shouldered the extra responsibility.
    The chief constable had come sniffing round the office once or twice, but Bryn had hidden in the stationery cupboard until he’d gone. If he was asked to apply for the job by the big boss, he’d have no choice but to say yes. And be confined to a desk for the rest of his days.
    But if he didn’t apply, what then? He was getting on in years and how would the department look with a complete stranger running it? The acting super was from North Wales, which was bad enough, but what if an Englishman took the helm? It didn’t bear thinking about. Maybe he owed it to his boys – and girls – to become their super.
    ‘Bryn? Bryn, are you listening?’
    Owain’s words brought him back to the task at hand and he gestured at the board.
    ‘Good thinking, the MOs. Let me know if she finds something.’
    Owain smiled half a smile, forced to put on a