Back An Isolated Incident
Chapters (53)
  1. Dedication
  2. COPYRIGHT
  3. Chapter One
  4. Chapter Two
  5. Chapter Three
  6. Chapter Four
  7. Chapter Five
  8. Chapter Six
  9. Chapter Seven
  10. Chapter Eight
  11. Chapter Nine
  12. Chapter Ten
  13. Chapter Eleven
  14. Chapter Twelve
  15. Chapter Thirteen
  16. Chapter Fourteen
  17. Chapter Fifteen
  18. Chapter Sixteen
  19. Chapter Seventeen
  20. Chapter Eighteen
  21. Chapter Nineteen
  22. Chapter Twenty
  23. Chapter Twenty-One
  24. Chapter Twenty-Two
  25. Chapter Twenty-Three
  26. Chapter Twenty-Four
  27. Chapter Twenty-Five
  28. Chapter Twenty-Six
  29. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  30. Chapter Twenty-Eight
  31. Chapter Twenty-Nine
  32. Chapter Thirty
  33. Chapter Thirty-One
  34. Chapter Thirty-Two
  35. Chapter Thirty-Three
  36. Chapter Thirty-Four
  37. Chapter Thirty-Five
  38. Chapter Thirty-Six
  39. Chapter Thirty-Seven
  40. Chapter Thirty-Eight
  41. Chapter Thirty-Nine
  42. Chapter Forty
  43. Chapter Forty-One
  44. Chapter Forty-Two
  45. Chapter Forty-Three
  46. Chapter Forty-Four
  47. Chapter Forty-Five
  48. Chapter Forty-Six
  49. Epilogue
  50. DCI Logan Returns in…
  51. Hoon. Coming soon.
  52. JOIN THE JD KIRK VIP CLUB
  53. Also by JD Kirk

“Well, maybe not as such, but that was definitely the root of it,” the driver said. “Call a child ‘Pete Hill’ and you’re painting a bloody target on their backs, aren’t you? That’s why I joined the army, so I could learn to kick shit out of the little fuckers.” He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Course, they were brutal there, an’ all.”

“Eh, aye, I can imagine,” Hamza said. “Couldn’t you have gone with ‘Peter?’”

It was Pete’s turn to miss a beat. “What?”

“Couldn’t you have used ‘Peter’ instead of ‘Pete?’”

The driver turned and faced forward again. For several seconds, he just stared ahead at the bus station that stood tucked in at the side of the supermarket.

“Fuck,” he mumbled, after some thought. Then, he gave himself a shake and went back to addressing Hamza via the mirror. “Anyway, your man sure saw the funny side. Cracked him up it did. Pete Hill. He was firing them out, the jokes. Jokes about holding twenty times my own body weight in water, about capturing and storing carbon dioxide, about drying me out and throwing me on a fire! I tell you this much, he knew a lot about the uses for peat. More than most, anyway. More than me, even, and I thought I’d heard them all over the years. He was relentless, though. Relentless.”

Hamza had a nagging feeling that this interview was starting to slip away from him, so he shunted it back on track with a question.

“This is the car you took them in, yes?”

“It is. They needed something roomy. Had quite a bit of luggage with them, so this was ideal,” Pete said. “This’ll carry pretty much anything. I can get my bike in. Fishing rods. Furniture. You name it. I’ve had a fridge freezer in here once. One of them big American ones. With the ice dispenser on the front. It wasn’t turned on at the time, obviously—I mean, where would you plug it in? But still, it fit in with the seats down. The back ones fold right into the floor. Flat, so you wouldn’t know they were there. Makes a difference.”

Hamza grasped at the thread of the conversation and clung tightly to it. “You took them from here to the house in Glen Coe? Any stops along the way?”