Stuart MacBride - Shatter the Bones

Logan watched Mark squirm in his seat.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And I want every chiz handler we’ve got, out there pulling in their sources — someone, somewhere has to know something. DI McPherson, you can handle that.’

Which was bloody doubtful, McPherson could barely handle tying his own shoelaces. But at least this would keep him out of trouble: Covert Human Intelligence Sources were OK for burglaries and low-level drug trafficking, but whoever snatched Alison and Jenny McGregor weren’t going to brag about it over a pint in Dodgy Pete’s, were they?

Finnie pointed at the crumpled mess sitting next to Logan. ‘DI Steel will be coordinating with all the other forces in the UK. Just because they were snatched in Aberdeen, doesn’t mean they’re being held here.’ Finnie turned to his boss, Chief Superintendent Baldy Bain. ‘Sir?’

Bain stood, gave the standard motivational — we’re all in this together/everyone’s depending on us/justice for Jenny — speech. Then he turned and nodded at the newcomer, sitting with the bigwigs. ‘Right: we have Superintendent Green from the Serious Organized Crime Agency with us. Superintendent, I think you want to say a few words?’

‘Thanks.’ He got to his feet and flashed them a smile, straight white teeth and furrowed brow. ‘Before we go any further I just want you all to know that SOCA isn’t here to tell you how to do your jobs, or take the investigation away from Grampian Police. I’m just here to provide a fresh pair of eyes, a sense-check, and all the support I can.’

And now Acting DI Mark MacDonald wasn’t the only one squirming in his seat. But no one stood up and called Green a lying tosser.

‘OK, so, while I’m up here: other options. How about background checks?’

Finnie’s smile looked painful. ‘Ongoing. I’ve got six teams working their way through Alison McGregor’s colleagues and neighbours. We’ve already interviewed everyone on her course.’

‘Family?’

‘Adopted when she was three. Foster parents are both dead — one cancer, one heart attack. Husband’s parents went in a house fire seven years ago.’

Green nodded, chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment. ‘What about the production company?’

Finnie looked at Acting DI MacDonald.

Mark fumbled his way into a blue folder and pulled out a trembling sheet of paper. ‘I spoke to the Met this morning and they say they’ve been through Blue-Fish-Two-Fish Productions with a nit comb. Company has a reputation for some pretty extreme publicity stunts, but DI…’ Mark checked the sheet again, ‘DI Broddur thinks they’d draw the line at kidnapping their own artistes. And they certainly wouldn’t kill a wee-’

‘OK.’ Green nodded. ‘Good work.’

Finnie cleared his throat. ‘So, if there’s nothing else-’

‘Apart from the obvious? Don’t just profile the offender, we need to profile the victim too.’ Green turned, sweeping his arms out, indicating the scribbled whiteboards, scrawled flip-charts, and crowded corkboards that lined the incident room. ‘We need to go back to the start, sift through everything we’ve got. There’s a connection here — something that links Jenny and Alison McGregor to the bastards who kidnapped them. We just have to find it.’

Acting DI Mark MacDonald got as far as the window of DI Steel’s office, turned round and paced back towards the door, about-faced and did it all over again. ‘“There’s a connection here, we just have to find it.”’ Round again. ‘Could that bastard be any more of a cliche if he tried?’

‘Oh, park your arse and stop whining.’ Steel pulled the e-cigarette from her gob, tilted her head back, opened her mouth in a wide ‘O’ and puffed. But instead of a perfectly-formed smoke ring, a mangled amoeba tumbled its way towards the ceiling. ‘You’re just jealous, because he’s sex and chips.’

‘He’s a cock.’ Mark slumped into the visitor chair next to Logan’s and glowered. ‘Coming up here, telling us how to-’

‘Least you’re on crowd control. I’ve got to play nice with Officer Tosser from every sodding force in the country.’ She tried for another smoke ring. Failed. ‘Laz, get a statement together: inter-force cooperation, agreed response times, service levels, utmost importance to catching Jenny’s killer, blah, blah, blah.’

‘Can’t.’ Logan stuck his mug on Steel’s desk and stood. Groaned. Stretched. Slumped. ‘Was supposed to be out of here at twelve, remember? I’ve got-’

‘“A thing”, aye, you’ve been banging on about your mysterious “thing” for weeks. It really more important than finding out who killed a wee girl and hacked off her toe?’

‘Oh no you don’t — I’ve been on duty for…’ He checked his watch. ‘Christ, thirty hours straight.’ Well, with one hour off to clamber into his empty bed, but that hardly counted. He threw in a yawn for good measure. ‘Shattered…’

She pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes. ‘ Fine , I’ll get Rennie to do it. Happy?’

‘I’ve got to go.’

Steel pointed a finger at him, the skin stained yellow, the cherry-red nail varnish chipped. ‘Tomorrow morning, seven o’clock, on the sodding dot. And bring-’

The phone on her desk rang. ‘Sod…’ She peered at the display, then snatched up the receiver. ‘Susan? What’s… No… Susan, calm down, it’s…’ Steel crumpled forward, until her head was resting on the desktop. ‘No. No I’m not saying that, Susan, it’s… Yes…’

Logan slipped out through the door.

‘You sure you want to go through with this?’ Samantha squeezed his hand.

Logan swallowed, blinked, cranked his smile up a notch. ‘Yes. It’s fine. Really. I want to do this.’ He ran a finger around the inside of his shirt collar. ‘Just a bit … you know.’

‘You’re … not just doing this for me , are you?’

Of course he was. Well, maybe. A bit anyway.

The Church was bathed in sunlight, the walls glowing with bright colours, a bunch of flowers in a vase perfuming the air.

‘No. I really want to do this.’

‘Only, if you want to back out, I’ll understand.’ She looked away. ‘Because, you’ve got to commit to this for the rest of your life…’

A shadow fell across them, and Logan looked up to see a large bald man beaming at him though a Grizzly Adams beard, a dog collar just visible through all that hair. ‘Are we ready?’

Sam squeezed Logan’s hand again. ‘Last minute nerves.’

The big man nodded. ‘I understand. It’s a big step, but I’m here to make it as easy as possible.’ He patted Logan on the shoulder. ‘Shall we?’

Deep breath. Glance at Samantha — smiling with her brows all furrowed, the silver ring in her nose sparking in the sunlight. Back to the Reverend. Nod.

‘Excellent.’ The big man steepled his fingers. ‘So if you’ll just take off your shirt and climb in the chair, we’ll get started. Won’t hurt a bit.’

03:07, SEVEN DAYS AGO

Darkness. Black, like the cat that sleeps on the wall at the bottom of the garden. The one that hisses and scratches.

She blinks.

Teddy Gordon’s eyes sparkle like a crow’s. He’s sitting on the end of the bed grinning at her. She hates Teddy Gordon. Hates his nasty blue fur. Hates his horrid stitched-on smile. Hates the way he smells of smoking.

Teddy Gordon knows she hates him. That’s why he’s friends with the monster.

If she had her way, Teddy Gordon would live at the bottom of the wheelie-bin, all dirty and stinky with the green-brown water that leaks out of the bin-bags. But Mummy says she has to be nice to Teddy Gordon, because Teddy Gordon was a present from a man Mummy likes. A man who gives her nice things. Much nicer things than Daddy ever did.