Logan pulled the spork out of the mound of chicken and chorizo casserole and helped himself to a bite. Well, Henry Scott wasn’t going to miss it, was he? It tasted as good as it smelled, even if it was getting cold.

‘Logan—’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Voices echoed through Grampian Police Force Headquarters as nightshift clocked on and shuffled out onto the rain-misted streets, fluorescent yellow waistcoats on over their black uniforms. Moaning.

Logan ran a hand through his hair and flicked the water off against the painted breezeblock wall of the cell block.

One of the nightshift PCSOs scowled at him from the other end of the corridor, carrying a tray with half a dozen steaming mugs on it. His pornstar moustache bristled. ‘You’re dripping on my floor!’

‘I’m not stopping, Andy. Just checking up on a couple of prisoners.’

‘Bad enough I’ve got drunks puking and peeing on it, without you CID scumbags dripping all over the place.’

Logan helped himself to one of the mugs. ‘Thanks.’

‘Hey!’ He snatched it back. ‘Those are for the guests. You want a cuppa? Get it yourself.’

‘Who stuck an angry badger up your bum? ’ Logan slid back the hatch on the nearest cell, the one with ‘STACEY GOURDON ~ BOTP’ written on the board by the door, and peered inside. ‘She give you any trouble? ’

Stacey sat on the blue plastic mattress with her back against the wall, blood-flecked knees drawn up against her chest. No scabs left, she must’ve eaten them all. She looked up, smiled, then made the universal gesture for ‘wanker’.

Lovely girl.

Stacey stood and padded across the cell floor on bare feet. ‘You here to interrogate me too? Think you can beat a confession out of me? Well, I’ll tell you exactly the same thing I told your hairy little friend: I don’t have to tell you where I was when Anthony went missing, or where I was when he died. And there’s nothing you can do about it.’

Why did it sound as if she was auditioning for the part of ‘Suspect number one’? Making herself look more dodgy than she needed to. Playing him. . .

Logan paused, then sighed. Of course she was. ‘Yes, well done. Very melodramatic.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t you patronize me.’

‘You really think this is the best way to get your daddy’s attention? Get tied up in a murder enquiry? Maybe sell your sordid little story to the papers? Scandalize the neighbourhood? ’

Stacey stuck out her chest, her smile wide, voice silky. ‘I had a threesome with the victim and the girl who killed him. I think I’m entitled to some compensation for my grief and distress, don’t you? It’s not my problem if you—’

Logan slammed the hatch shut on her. ‘Andy, feel free to spit in her tea, OK? ’