Rowan marches after him, staying far enough back to not be touched by his filthy stench: the cracking lines like burning blood. The beasts are too powerful and so was the woman with the aura of black, but a witch. . . Now that’s something different.

The Kirk is my mother and father. It is my rod and my staff. My shield and my sword. What I do in its service lights a fire in God’s name.

Chapter 13

13

‘It’s not my fault, OK? ’ Logan grabbed his jacket off the hook by the filing cabinet in his office. ‘Not like I ordered them off the bloody internet.’

Steel blocked the doorway. ‘How could you no’ know they were human? ’

‘Yes, because you’re such an expert on anthropology. Who leaves actual finger bones on someone’s doorstep? ’ He picked up the phone on his desk, punched in the number for the CID main office. ‘Who’s this: Guthrie? ’

Little sod sounded half asleep. ‘Yes, Guv? ’

‘I need you to go through the missing persons reports. Looking for someone between forty-five and sixty-five, right-handed, with arthritis. Five-one to five-six.’

‘Aye, right.’ Steel had a dig at the underside of her left boob, one side of her face all creased up. ‘Like that’s no’ going to throw up a million hits.’ Dig, dig, dig. ‘Think my boobs are getting bigger? ’

‘Male or female? ’

‘Probably female, but check both just in case.’ Logan put the phone down on the grumbled complaints.

‘I think they’re getting bigger. . .’ She squidged them together, making a crevasse of wrinkly cleavage. ‘Look.’

‘No.’

‘What about your mate the scumbag journalist? He got his fingers lopped off, maybe he’s sending you the bits as a wee gift? ’

‘I need a search warrant for Reuben’s house. And he’s got a workshop, or a lockup or something, out in the countryside – we need to search that too. He’s killed someone, maybe a rival dealer, that’s where he’s getting the bones from.’

‘You’re no’ right in the head. When did you last hear of a little old lady drug dealer? ’

Logan hauled open the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet and pulled out a bundle of empty evidence bags, held together with an elastic band. ‘There was that one in Torry last year with the cannabis farm in her garage. And the granny selling coke in Northfield. And the bunch of pensioners running that meth lab in Huntly.’

Steel scowled at him. ‘They were retired chemistry teachers, it doesn’t count.’

The drawer clanged shut again. ‘Reuben’s the only—’

‘God’s sake, you’re obsessed. Why would Reuben boil the bones clean? Why no’ just send you the fingers? ’

‘Well, who else would it be? ’