Stuart MacBride - In the Cold Dark Ground

With pleasure.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Steel’s voice grated down the corridor as Logan’s hand hit the doorknob.

‘Home.’ He hauled open the door. ‘My shift ended at three. It’s nearly quarter past six.’

‘How many times do I have to tell you, Laz? Shifts are for the weak.’

Outside, the rain had given up. Or at least called a truce. The road was slick and shiny in the orange streetlight glow.

He turned. ‘Detective Superintendent Harper has made it perfectly clear I’m not wanted. And that’s fine with me.’

‘Come on, Laz, don’t be like that.’

‘Oh, and thanks for the support, by the way. When she was tearing me off a strip and calling me an idiot. Thanks. I really appreciate it. Hope you liked your coffee.’ He stepped out into the night and thumped the door closed behind him.

It opened a moment later. ‘What did you do to my coffee? Did you put bogies in it? You did, didn’t you? You filthy wee—’

‘You told Inspector McGregor you wanted me for local knowledge and experience.’ Getting louder and louder. ‘So why am I in there playing SODDING TEABOY?’

Steel took out her e-cigarette and stuck it in her gob. Sucked on it, setting the LED in the tip glowing blue. ‘Are we finished having our whiney little strop?’

‘Get stuffed.’ He stuck his hands in his pockets and marched off.

Her voice rang out behind him. ‘So you’ll no’ care that Martin Milne’s just turned up.’

Logan froze. ‘Is he alive?’

‘Get in the car.’

The car screeched to a halt on the kerb, outside Milne’s house. Logan yanked the keys out of the ignition and scrambled out into the darkness. Wind slammed into the garden, making the bushes writhe, snatching the breath from his throat as he jammed the peaked cap on his head and followed Steel up the drive to the front door.

Only when they got there she slapped him on the arm. ‘Round the back, you great lump. What if he does another runner? Count of ten.’

Logan ducked and ran, keeping low past the front of the house and around the side. The wail of a siren grew louder in the distance. Backup on its way.

Nine. Eight.

Around the side of the house. He vaulted the gate, set into a knee-high drystane dyke. Stumbled in the darkness beyond. Kicked something plastic. Swore at it. Then hobbled around the back.

Five. Four.

The lights were on in the kitchen, spilling out into the garden.

A paved patio stretched almost the length of the house, with built-in barbecue and raised beds around the outside. A shovel, a trowel, a fork and a hoe were stacked against a water butt, their wooden handles faded and cracked by the winter. The set of rattan garden furniture hadn’t fared much better.

Three. Two.

Logan eased himself along the wall and peered in through the kitchen window.

Katie Milne stood by the sink, glass of wine in one hand, the other massaging her forehead. Black streaks on her cheeks where the mascara had run. So where was... There. Martin Milne sat at the kitchen table, slumped over a very large tumbler of whisky. His face was either dirty or bruised, difficult to tell from the garden.

One. Zero.

Then Steel must have rung the bell, because they both jerked upright and turned to face the front door.

Katie said something, but Milne shook his head and stood. His whole body trembled.

Outside, the siren got louder. Couldn’t be far away now.

Then Katie shook herself. Pulled her chin up, and headed for the kitchen door. As soon as she closed it behind her, Milne was up, running for the French doors.

He flung one of the doors open and leapt out onto the paving slabs.

Logan stepped out of the shadows. ‘Leaving so soon, Mr Milne?’

Milne’s mouth fell open, eyes wide. One of those high cheekbones of his was coloured purple and blue, another bruise on his dimpled chin. Another on his forehead. Crusts of dried blood made dark rings around both nostrils.

He tensed, legs bent. One hand reached for the shovel.

‘You’ll get four, maybe six, feet tops.’ Logan pointed. ‘And if you pick that up, I’ll be doing you for resisting arrest and assaulting a police officer as well.’ He unclipped his extendable baton and clacked it out to its full length. ‘Want to risk it?’

The siren’s wail died away, followed by the slamming of car doors.

‘Come on, Martin. It’s over.’

Milne sank down to the patio floor, curled his arms around his head and sobbed.

The convoy of police vehicles threaded their way through the damp and the dark — a glowing caterpillar of crisp white headlights and scarlet tail-lights, following the flashing blue-and-whites of the lead car.

Last in line, Logan followed them down the hill, then up again.

Steel shoogled back and forth in the passenger seat. ‘Does this thing no’ go any faster?’

‘We could’ve taken your car.’

‘You’re no’ man enough to drive my car. That’s why you own a manky old Fiat Punto. I’ve seen BBC costume dramas that move faster than this.’

‘Feel free to get out and walk.’

She folded her arms and scowled out of the window. ‘All the way to bloody Fraserburgh. We should be interviewing the murdering wee sod, no’ driving halfway across the country!’

God, it was like sharing a car with a sulky teenager.

He gritted his teeth, squeezing the words out between them: ‘It’s not halfway across the country, it’s twenty-five miles. And we’re going there because it’s the nearest station with a custody sergeant and up-to-date interview rooms. OK? This is how it works now.’

‘Waste of time, that’s what it is.’

‘Then why don’t you wave your magic wand and give me another dozen full-time officers? Go on. It’ll make my life a hell of a lot easier.’

Steel shook her head. ‘You’re such a moan.’ She dug out her phone and poked at the screen. Listened to it for a bit. Then, ‘Detective Superintendent Young, you’re sounding very sexy this evening... No... Oh, she told you. Yeah, we caught Martin Milne. And when I say “we” I mean me and grumpy old Sergeant McRae... That’s right. We’re wheeching him off to Fraserburgh now.’

They roared through New Aberdour without slowing down.

‘Uh-huh... Uh-huh... No, Superintendent Harper turned up and called dibs. He’s riding with her... Yeah, well I wasn’t quite so polite about it... Yup.’ Then Steel threw back her head and laughed, setting her cleavage wobbling in the dashboard light. The laughter faded, replaced by a frown instead. ‘She did? Seriously?... Hold on.’

Steel stuck the phone against her chest. ‘You’ll no’ believe it, but Madame Bipolar Panties told the Boss that catching Milne was all down to me. If it wasn’t for my magnificent performance on the news, the neighbour would no’ have known to give us a shout when he turned up. Apparently, my initiative is to be lauded, admired, and rewarded with cake and nipples.’

Logan tightened his grip on the wheel, ground his teeth together. ‘Course it is. Because all those interviews my team did with the neighbours and the posters we put up had nothing to do with it.’

‘Blah, blah, blah.’ Back to the phone. ‘You still there?... Good. Looks like someone’s given Milne a bit of a hiding, but nothing a night in the cells won’t sort out... Not sure. If Laz had let Milne take a swing at him we could’ve done him for assault. But no , he had to be all peaceful resolutiony about it.’

A gap in the clouds opened up just long enough for a half-moon to glare down. Pale grey light turned the countryside into a washed-out monochrome as it rushed by the Punto’s windows.