Chalmers wouldn’t look him in the eye. ‘Bumped into Agnes at a house near Fyvie. Literally.’ Chalmers fiddled with the oxygen mask, twisting the soft plastic back and forth. ‘And when I woke up, I was tied up in a grubby little kitchen. . .’ She wiped a hand across her eyes. ‘I didn’t tell her anything. . .’

‘You wouldn’t have been in that situation if you’d called for backup.’ Logan took a step back, pulse thumping in his neck, heat spreading behind his temples. ‘Because of you, PC Sim nearly died. Rennie nearly got electrocuted. And I was this close,’ he held up his hand, thumb and forefinger almost touching, voice getting louder with every word, ‘to being shot in the face!’

‘I just wanted. . . It wasn’t meant to work out like this.’

‘Really? Well that’s OK then, isn’t it? Everything’s forgiven!’ He poked her in the shoulder and the space blanket crackled. ‘You listen up and you listen good: I’m the one who’d have to tell Sim’s husband and kids she died because you couldn’t face sharing the bloody credit!’

Tears spilled down Chalmers’s cheeks. ‘It wasn’t my fault. . .’

‘Hope you’re proud of yourself.’ He turned his back and walked away.

Thursday

Thursday

Chapter 50

50

The wub-wub-wub of a floor polisher dragged Logan back above the cold green waves and thumped him down in the visitor’s chair in Samantha’s room.

‘Gagh. . .’ Someone had sneaked in at some point during the night and replaced his spine with sharp rocks and broken glass. He creaked himself upright. Yawned. Stretched. Slumped. Then shuffled through to the bathroom, rubbing the grit out of his eyes.

The face in the mirror peered back at him with two beautiful black eyes.

Then frowned: there was something he was meant to do. . .?

Nope, no idea.

Time for a pee and a wash.

Samantha didn’t move as he pulled his shoes back on, just lay there like a corpse, all wires and tubes and lank brown hair.

He cleared his throat. Forced a smile. ‘Probably going to be a long day today. Do you fancy pizza or something for. . .’

What was the point?

Something heavy settled on his shoulders, trying to crush him down into the grey terrazzo floor.

And then his phone went – ‘If I Only Had a Brain’.

Logan hauled it out. ‘Do you have any idea what time it is? ’

‘Nearly half seven, Guv.’

It was? He checked his watch. Sodding hell. ‘Why didn’t anyone say? ’

‘They’ve turned up another body at the farm. Looks like the poor sod was stabbed all over, throttled, then buried in the ruined chapel. Dr Graham says the bones in that cook pot in the kitchen are definitely human too: scapula, skull, five ribs, and an ulna. Apparently they’re a bit on the ancient side. PM’s at ten if you fancy it? ’