Billy choked and wheezed and gulped, his whole respiratory system suffering some major malfunction. His eyes met Logan’s. They looked feral, like a frightened animal backed into a corner.

“Did you kill Archie and his family?” Logan asked.

The reply came not as a word, but as a shake of the head. Logan regarded him for a moment, eyes narrowed, then gave the solicitor the nod. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s call it a night.”

Heather turned to him in surprise. “What?”

“We’ll have someone come and escort Mr Pinnock down to the cells.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, do you?” the solicitor asked.

“Well, it’s that, or he tells us where his wife has taken the baby,” Logan said. He pushed back his chair and stood, his shadow falling over almost the entire table. “I’ll leave that decision up to him.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Heather watched in silence as Logan dumped his coat on one of the canteen tables, sidled up to a half-empty vending machine, and secured himself a late dinner of a Coke Zero and a Twix.

The canteen was empty, as it often was at this time of night, the serving hatch where more substantial meals might be secured having long-since been shuttered for the day.

“You wanting anything?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder as he waited for the machine to stop whirring and the chocolate bar to drop.

Heather answered with a shake of her head, then crossed her arms and waited for him to return.

“What was that?” she asked.

Logan looked over at the vending machine. “I didn’t get a chance to eat anything, so—”

“Not that. In there,” the other DCI replied. “Pinnock. We nearly had a confession.”

Logan cracked open his can and took a gulp. “We got a confession. They took the baby.”

“To the murders. He was about to crack.”

“No, he wasn’t,” Logan said.

“You going soft in your old age?” Heather pressed. “The DCI Logan I knew would’ve kept at that wee runt until he broke him.”

“Seemed pretty broken to me,” Logan said.

He set the can on the table and peeled open the wrapper of his chocolate. “Sure you don’t want a bit?” he asked, offering out the Twix.

Heather smirked. “You offering me a finger, Jack? God, just like old times, eh?” she teased. “But no. I’ll pass, thanks.”

Logan shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“I could go a drink, though. If you fancy one?”

“There’s more Coke in the vending machine,” Logan said. “No Irn Bru left, though, as per bloody usual. Some things never change.”

Heather raised an eyebrow. “I meant a real drink. It’d be good to catch up. Properly. Just the two of us.”

Logan nodded. “Aye. I know what you meant. But best not, I think,” he said.