Stuart MacBride - In the Cold Dark Ground

Logan lowered his armoury and stuck it through the balustrades onto the stairs, then pushed through into the kitchen.

She was standing at the cooker, shoogling a frying pan that hissed and sputtered. Singing away, oblivious:

‘ Making friends and having fun,

Doing stuff for everyone. ’

He leaned against the work surface. ‘What are you doing?’

Steel froze for a second, then went back to her shoogling. ‘Making breakfast.’ Then she looked around and raised an eyebrow. ‘Laz, how many times? I’m flattered, but I’m no’ shagging you. Now get dressed.’ She waved a spatula at him. ‘Sight of all them scars is putting me off my grub.’

He folded his arms across his chest. Then lowered them to cover the shining puckered lines that snaked across his stomach. ‘How did you get in here?’

‘No point being a keyholder if you don’t use your key, is there?’ She went back to poking at the pan. ‘Five minutes. And stop picturing me naked! We had words about that.’

Gah...

Logan turned and headed back into the hall. Maybe if he poured bleach in his ears it’d get rid of that particular mental image.

He stopped with one hand on the newel post at the foot of the stairs. ‘Who was on the phone?’

But she was off again.

‘ Adventure Cat, Adventure Cat,

Foiling evil Dr Rat,

And his schemes most dastardly,

To save the world for you and meeeee! ’

Why did he bother?

Through in the lounge, the red light on the answering machine blinked at him.

On the TV, two newsreaders tried to be chatty with a permatanned couple who had big hair and unnaturally shiny teeth.

‘ ...amazing. And did you ever think you’d be this popular? ’

‘ We have to say the fans have been absolutely fabulous, haven’t they, Jacinta? ’

‘ Oh yeah, totally fabulous. I mean, completely . Me and Benjamin been— ’

Mute.

He pressed the button on the answering machine.

‘ MESSAGE ONE: ’ That same dark voice that had been barely audible through the floorboards oozed out of the speaker. ‘ Sergeant McRae? It’s Chief Superintendent Napier, I got your message about the... project we discussed. ’

Oh crap.

Logan lunged across the carpet and thumped the living room door shut.

‘ I think it would be prudent for you to come in and discuss it in person. That way you can review the evidence.’

Well, Napier would have to wait. He had more important things to do than undermine and manipulate a Professional Standards investigation into Steel today. And tomorrow was blocked out for the hangover that came afterwards.

‘ I think it’s important we get this underway as soon as possible, don’t you? After all, the longer it exists in limbo, the more chance there is of the papers getting hold of it. I think we can all agree that a trial by media would be regrettable for all concerned. If you’d like to call me back, we can set up a mutually convenient appointment. Thank you. ’

Bleeeeeep .

Logan glanced at the wall separating the room from the kitchen. No way she could have heard any of that. Not still singing her lump-filled head off.

Unless, of course, she’d turned up when the call came through in the first place.

‘ Message Two: ’ Steel’s voice came from the machine. ‘ Laz? You there?... Laz?... Pick up if you’re there. ’

On the TV, they cut from the permatanned talentless toothmerchants to the ident for local news.

‘ You better no’ still be in your scratcher, you lazy wee sod. Probably lying there, playing with yourself, aren’t you? Well stop it, you’ll go— ’

Delete.

The Scottish newsreader was replaced by a mob outside one of the oil company headquarters in Dyce. The words, ‘ ... S CENES O F U NREST A S P ROTEST E NTERS T HIRD D AY... ’ scrolled along the bottom of the screen.

‘ YOU HAVE NO MORE MESSAGES. ’

Logan held down the delete button until the message count went back to zero, blanking Napier’s incriminating call.

The protests at Dyce gave way to woodland and a line of blue-and-white ‘P OLICE ’ tape.

‘ ... H UMAN R EMAINS I DENTIFIED A S L OCAL B USINESSMAN, P ETER S HEPHERD... ’

He switched the TV off. Time to get dressed.

Steel put one foot up on the dashboard, scratching at her ankle, mobile phone pinned between her ear and shoulder. ‘Yeah... Did he?... Nah...’

Logan drove them along the winding road, west out of Banff. Taking his time.

White lines scratched along the sea’s blue face. Pounding against the cliffs. Sending up walls of spray. It glowed in the warm golden light that ramped up the colour of everything.

‘When was that?... Oh aye?... I’m no’ happy about that, Becky. I put you in charge of babysitting the wee scumbag, no’ Spaver: so sort it... Yeah.’

Samantha leaned forward from the back seat. ‘Still don’t see why she’s got to come with us.’

‘She’s worried about me.’

A huge puddle spread across the tarmac and he slowed for it. The tyres growled through, making their own walls of spray. Only grey and gritty instead of shining white.

‘She’s a pain in the backside. Always has been.’

‘That’s true.’

Steel put her phone away, then swore as it blared into life again. Dragged it back out. ‘Yes?... Superintendent Harper— Yes, Yes I know... Me?’ She cast a glance across the car at Logan. ‘Yeah, I’m following up a couple of things at the moment... Definitely. Be back in the office in a couple of hours? Ish?... What?’ Steel had another scratch. ‘Oh for God’s sake. How’d he get away with that?... The greasy goat-molesting scumbag — What?’

‘Thought it was going to be you and me today. My final morning on earth. Who invited the Wrinkled Witch of the West?’

‘Can you two not fight today? Please? Just for once?’

‘...No. Of course. We’ll get a cordon up. Malk the Knife’ll no’ make contact if Milne’s got half the world’s media camped outside his front door... Uh-huh. Will do.’

A sign loomed into view. ‘S UNNY G LEN 1 è’

Samantha put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Not long now.’

‘Am I the only one who feels sick?’

‘Uh-huh... Uh-huh... OK. Thanks.’ Steel hung up, took her foot off the dashboard, and put her phone away. ‘What you chuntering on about, Laz?’

He shrugged. Indicated. Took the road to the right, heading closer to the cliffs.

Steel had a wee burp, then rubbed at her stomach. ‘Where’d you buy your tomato sauce, Halfords? Stuff’s like battery acid.’

‘Or it could be the three bacon butties you wolfed.’

‘ No , it was your cheap-and-nasty own-brand bargain-basement sauce.’ She had another burp. ‘Apparently the media’s been camped outside Martin Milne’s house since we released Shepherd’s name. It’s like a rugby scrum.’

‘Not to mention the four cups of coffee.’

‘They caught some tabloid tosser shinnying over the back fence, having first pumped the neighbour and the wifie that does the school run for everything they had.’

‘So get Milne to make a statement. They won’t go away until he does.’

Sunny Glen appeared around the next bend: single storey for most of its length, with a balcony overhanging a large patio area where the ground fell away towards the cliffs. A couple of wheelchairs were out, their occupants positioned in the February sunshine.