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i lo the local airport, sec if they had any record of her and Gavin buggering off to su
Wherever they'd gone, they'd turn up soon enough. All ta
He got as far as turning the car round before his mobile phone started ringing: DC Re
31
Logan was to collect DC Re
Re
Logan stuffed them in his pocket; she'd just have to wait until they were through at the prison.
Re
A blush. 'Sorry, sir, I was just wondering what you'd done to upset DI Steel'
'Why?'
'Er…' Re
Swear to God, made me promise: word for word.' He threw another glance in Logan's direction. 'Sorry…'
'I see.' God knew why he was surprised – hell hath no fury and all that. 'So tell me about Jamie: what happened?'
'They released him from hospital yesterday morning went to court on the possession charge and straight back to Craiginches. Found him half an hour ago in the exercise yard. They think it's an overdose.'
'In prison? How the hell did he manage that?'
Re
'Didn't bring it in from the hospital did he?'
'No: I checked. After we found the drugs up his bum, he wasn't even allowed to take a dump on his own. What a great job that would be, eh? Standing in the corner while some wee scroat has a crap, checking to make sure they don't pick anything out of the bowl and stuff it back where it came from.'
Logan pulled into the prison car park, between a patrol car and a familiar top-of-the-range Mercedes. 'Oh Christ…' he said, staring at Isobel's car. Just what he needed, someone else to give him a hard time.
They found her at the furthest corner of the exercise yard, dressed – like everyone else – in a flattering white paper romper suit, hunkered down over the twisted remains of Jamie McKi
He was lying on his side, one arm twisted up behind his back, the other draped across his face. The bandages on his broken fingers were dirty and streaked with vomit. His left knee was up against his chest, right leg pointing due east.
'Right said Isobel to an IB technician with a huge digital camera. 1 want everything photographed. Particularly the hands and soles of the feet.' She looked up and saw Logan as he ducked in under the blue plastic lean-to, out of the rain. Scowled. 'When you've done with the pictures, get him back to the morgue.' The photographer got to work, the hard clack of the flash making the raindrops spark as it caught them on their way to the ground. She stood, picked up her bag and started marching for the exit, accompanied by a mountain of muscle in a guard's uniform. Probably to ensure she didn't get free and maul one of the inmates.
'Isobel?' said Logan as she tried to walk straight past him.
'Yes?' Staring straight ahead. She really did look terrible: puffy and tired, as if she hadn't slept in a week.
'I need to know what happened.'
She scowled, looked at her watch and then back at Jamie McKi
'Aye, aye…' said Re
They grabbed a pair of spare SOC suits and clambered into them as the IB team finished off the photos and got ready to bag up the body.
'You want we should hold on a bit?' asked the head technician, water droplets sparkling on his dirt-grey moustache. 1 can't give you long though, all this rain'll play havoc with any trace evidence.' He tucked the body-bag under his armpit and huddled with his colleagues next to the prison wall, keeping out of the downpour.
Logan hunkered down next to Jamie. The bruises from before had faded slightly, but new ones had taken their place.
Whatever was going on in here, Jamie looked like he was on the receiving end of most of it. There was vomit in his hair and jumper, the acrid reek of bile slowly mingling with the stink of fresh urine. 'So,' said Re
'Are you serious?'
Re
'Er… Sergeant?' it was Dirty Moustache again, clutching his empty body-bag as if it was a hot-water bottle. 'We're really going to have to get him back to the morgue now.'
Logan left them to it.
Inside the prison, the social worker in charge of Jamie McKi