Dying light

Then lower, the kissing becoming more intense. And then she was on top, her long hair spiralling down across his face and chest, grunting and moaning as Jackie sat up in bed next to him and asked what all the noise was about. Click and the bedside light came on, exposing Rachael Tulloch in all her naked glory, straddling him. 'Oh,' said Jackie, 'that's all right then. I thought it was mice.' Logan tried to explain, but she just rolled over and went back to sleep while Rachael buried his face in her pale breasts. And then the door opened and his mother was standing there holding a frying pan, dressed like Henry the Eighth. 'Sir!' Her voice was hissing and urgent. 'I think they've found something.'

'Hmmmmmphf?' Logan sat bolt upright in the passenger seat, banging his head off the car roof. DC Re

'You OK?'

Logan scrubbed a hand across his eyes, slumped back in his seat and swore. 'First bloody dream in ages that doesn't feature dead bodies and you wake me up! Bastard!'

'Sorry, sir, but I thought you'd want to know – Caldwell says she's got a lead on a missing prostitute.'

Logan shook his head, trying to banish the last remnants of the dream, the smell of Rachael's naked body still fresh in his nostrils. This was all DI Steel's fault! If she hadn't said anything about him screwing around he wouldn't be having dirty dreams featuring the Deputy Procurator Fiscal. He'd have been having his usual nightmares about rotting children, battered women and charred corpses. At least he wouldn't have this weird sense of guilt. 'What do you mean they've got a lead?' And the smell of Rachael was gone.

26

'Her name's Joa

'Says she usually meets up with this older woman before the start of their shift. You know, drink strong cider and cheap vodka. Get nice and numb.' The WPC sniffed and glanced back at the staggering prostitute, probably thinking she was old enough to be the girl's mother. 'Only "Holly" didn't turn up for work tonight. Or last night either.'

Logan nodded, it was a long shot. Holly had probably taken a couple of days off, or was up in the infirmary getting a dose seen to, but you never knew. Joa

A plague of purple love bites infected either side of her neck, her breasts wobbling at the top of a grubby, petrol-blue basque, the left nipple poking through a hole in the lace.

Black miniskirt and high-heeled ankle boots. She'd thrown a threadbare maroon coat over the top of the ensemble. Very stylish: if you were into authentic diseased-junkie chic.

'Joa

She looked up at him and smiled, hungrily. 'You looking for a good time?'

'No. No I'm not.' And even if he was there was no way in hell he'd be looking for it with her. 'I want to speak to you about your friend Holly.'

Joa

'When did you last see her?'

She shrugged, and dug her hands into her overcoat pockets. 'Du

That's when she begged the fags off me.' Tuesday night: four days after Michelle Wood was killed. Joa

You bastards have to piss off and leave me alone, or I'll never make any money!'

'Soon as you give us a last name for Holly, and an address too.'

Joa

In the end Logan had to cover Holly's alleged debt: fifty quid and a packet of fags. The address was for a council flat in Froghall, an area of Aberdeen with a less than spotless reputation.

There was no guarantee that Holly from Froghall was actually missing, but it wasn't worth taking the risk. He called FHQ and asked them to send a squad car round to the address.

If she opened the door dressed in a rubber nun's outfit then at least they'd know she wasn't dead. He settled back into the passenger seat of the CID car to wait for the report, drifting in and out of sleep while Re

He surfaced just after one, stiff and sore from sleeping in the car. According to Re

Re

Control called in at half past one: Alpha Two Zero had been to the address in Froghall but no one was home.

Provided nothing more important came up, they were going to try again later, but Logan wasn't to hold his breath.

Operation Cinderella was talking a big bite out of the nighshift as it was. There was a whole city out there that needed patrolling.

By three o'clock in the morning, Davidson and Menzies were playing Eye Spy over their concealed radios, while the rest of the team played If-You-Had-To-Or-Die, picking names like Saddam Hussein, the Queen, A

Not surprisingly, more people were prepared to die rather than sleep with him. Finally Lo an called the operation to a halt and sent everyone back to FHQ.

He left DC Re

'Yeah, she in there?' Logan pointed at the door over the man's shoulder.

'Nope, just that Chib bloke. Inspector's in number two with the other one.'

'You know if he's copped to anything?'

'Doubt it: this one's said bugger all the whole night Been like watching paint dry.'

No surprise there. Logan couldn't see someone with Chib's reputation breaking down and confessing all his sins.

He knocked on the door to number four, letting himself in without waiting for a reply. DI Steel was slouched back in her seat, arms folded, scowling at the man on the other side of the table. He was wearing one of the IB's paper boiler suits, but looked comfortable in it, as if he was at a pyjama party for alien abductees. A WPC stood in the corner, looking every bit as bored as the officer outside in the corridor. It seemed Chib's friend wasn't much of a talker either. There was a Manila folder sitting on the tabletop in front of the inspector and Logan helped himself to it, flicking through the sheets as Steel carried on her silent war of attrition.