‘She always wanted a yorkie. Mad, eh? Smelly, yappy, little dog like that. So I got her one off a mate.’ He sniffed. Scrubbed at his eyes again. ‘Before that talent scout tosser spotted her, she was. . .’ Whyte gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘Then she did that bloody advert for tampons – “Look at me, I’m roller-skating with a penguin!” and that was it. Suddenly she was too good for us.’

‘So you hacked the head off a Yorkshire terrier? That made sense to you? ’

‘Didn’t even take the dog. Can you believe that? Walked out and left us both behind, like we were nothing to her. What sort of person does that? ’

‘What sort of person decapitates their own dog? ’

Whyte hunched over into himself, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. ‘Nichole’s mine. She’s not anyone else’s. She knows that. . .’

Logan slid the hatch shut again, pulled out his phone and scrolled through his contacts until he got to the one marked, ‘NUTJOBS-R-US’.

It rang, and rang, and rang . . . then a broad Liverpudlian accent boomed out of the earpiece. ‘Logan, haven’t heard from you in ages, is everything OK? Are you persevering with the talking therapy? ’

‘Yeah, I need you to come in and look at someone. . .’

Chapter 24

24

DI Leith cracked a yawn, showing off a mouthful of fillings. He blinked, rubbed a hand across the stubble on his chin: grey to go with the short-back-and-sides clinging precariously onto his scalp. The washboard wrinkles on his forehead deepened. ‘I’m just asking you to take a look at it, McRae. Half an hour. Forty-five minutes tops.’

Logan shifted the folder to his other arm, balancing the polystyrene cup and grease-windowed paper bag on top as he reached for the door handle. ‘Can’t. I’ve got a stalker in the cells on animal cruelty and assault charges who’s probably going to need sectioned, and Steel’s on the warpath about the necklacing case. You heard her.’

Leith slumped against the wall and let loose another yawn. ‘We both know it’s not going to happen, OK? We can’t just pluck a result out of thin air because she wants to stick it to the review team. The trail for our torture victim is still viable. We need to chase it down before it goes cold.’

‘So you do it then.’ He turned the handle and pushed through into his office. A rumpled-looking Rennie was slouched in the visitor’s chair, blond hair sticking out at random angles, as if he’d had a fight with the styling gel and lost. The bags under his eyes were even more impressive than Leith’s.

Rennie scrambled out of the chair. ‘Guv.’

Leith slumped into the vacated spot. ‘Thought I told you to go home.’

‘Need to talk to DI McRae, Guv.’