Broken Skin

the air like a dying seagull.

‘Be surprised how many people do both, you know: the scene and performing. Always thought about giving it a try myself. That’s how come I’m prompting. Next year-’

‘Hang on a second…’ Logan’s phone was ringing. According to the caller ID it was R TULLOCH — DPF. He stood, staring at the illuminated display as it rang, debating whether to take the call or pretend to be busy. Not really wanting to do either.

Rennie: ‘You going to answer that then?’

He’d speak to her. It wasn’t fair not to. He … the ringing stopped — it’d gone through to voicemail.

Now he’d have to ring her back. ‘Shite.’ He dialled in and checked his messages. There was some hissing and clicking, then one from his mother he’d been avoiding for nearly a week — he skipped it; one from DI Steel about some stolen office equipment; and last but not least:

‘Hi, Logan? It’s me … er … Rachael. Look, I had a good time the other night and I wanted to know if …’ the volume dropped, as if she was muttering to herself. ‘Bloody hell, this was easier when I thought about it in the car … Look: dinner, tomorrow night. I’m making something scary out of an old Delia Smith book. Make it half-six, and you can keep me going with wine while I cook.’ A pause, then she remembered to leave him the address and hung up.

Logan’s thumb hovered over the ‘delete’ button; now he had to call her back. ‘Fuck, fuck … fuck.’

Rennie smiled at him. ‘Good news?’

‘Shut up.’ Logan stuck the phone back in his pocket, message intact, and trudged away to Insch’s rehearsal. Maybe a bit of very amateur dramatics would make returning Rachael’s call a bit easier. Or maybe he was just being a spineless bastard.

He knew which one his money was on.

41

… and his eyes flickered open in the darkness, the dream coming to a sudden halt. Logan screwed up his face and peered out blearily from beneath the duvet — according to the clock radio it was nineteen minutes past four. No wonder it was cold: the heating had been off since half eleven.

He stuck a hand out, feeling along the mattress for Jackie, finding nothing but a deep-frozen expanse of bed. Still not home yet. No change there then, she was never … A noise from the hall — probably the same one that had woken him — someone fiddling with the flat’s front door. Cursing quietly, he shivered out of bed, grabbed his trousers off the chair in the corner and pulled them on, followed by what felt like a sweatshirt, and padded barefoot out into the hall just in time to see the door swing open and a familiar figure bundle in from the stairwell. Jackie, wearing her cat burglar outfit.

She clunked the door closed behind her, trembling as she peeled off her coat and gloves and headed for the kitchen.

‘Jackie?’

She froze for a moment, not looking round, then carried on, stripping in front of the washing machine, throwing everything in — hat, scarf, jacket, gloves, shirt, trainers, trousers, underwear — then added a couple of detergent pouches and switched the thing on. The hiss of rushing water sounded in the kitchen. Arms wrapped round her pale, shivering body, she marched through to the bathroom without a word. Her knuckles were swollen and red.

‘Jackie? What’s going on?’

Click: the shower power cord was pulled, then another click and the blow heater filled the bathroom with a deep whubwhubwhoooo and the faint smell of burning dust. The light came on, and Jackie’s pale skin fluoresced white as she clambered into the bath, goosepimples disappearing behind the blue plastic shower curtain. Wafts of steam billowed out into the cold room.

Logan closed the door. ‘Jackie, what the hell happened? What’s going on?’

‘Nothing.’ Her was voice muffled by the water, curtain and noisy heater, but he could still hear the tremor in it. ‘Nothing’s happened. If anyone asks, I was here all night.’

Oh fuck …’ Jackie?’

‘All night, OK? We spent the night here. You and me.’

‘Jackie what happened?’

‘Nothing happened. I was here all night: remember?’

‘Jackie?’

No answer. He hung around but she wouldn’t say anything else. As far as PC Jackie Watson was concerned, the matter was closed.

DARKNESS 42

Logan was up and out as soon as the alarm went off. They’d spent the night back to back, Jackie smelling of the large whisky she’d poured herself after her shower, Logan staring at the alarm clock’s glowing numerals. Waiting for the night to be over.

He was half an hour early for the start of his shift, sat in the CID office with a big waxed-paper cup of fancy coffee from the canteen and two buttered rowies, hoping the caffeine would kick in soon and make the world a better place. Knowing it was too much to hope for.

‘Right,’ said Steel when the morning briefing was over and they’d all done their best rendition of We Are Not At Home To Mr Fuck-Up, ‘what you got on just now?’

Logan didn’t have to think about it for long. ‘Nothing much, all the big stuff’s with the PF’s office. Just wee things to tidy up …’ He finished off with a huge yawn.

‘Good. You can take a couple of days off — you look like shite and the DCS’s been nagging me about the overtime bill. Like I care!’ Which was fair enough; he’d spent most of his three days off in the office anyway, so as far as Logan was concerned he was due some time in lieu. Steel got her cigarettes out, one winding its way into her gob where it bobbed and wove unlit while she talked. ‘When you come back we’ll take a look at some hate-mail wee Sean Morrison’s parents been getting.’

‘Hate-mail?’

‘Aye, well, nothing special. “Your kid’s a murderin’ wee shite”, that kind of thing. Just some arsehole blowin’ off steam. Meantime, finish up anything you’ve not done and fuck off out of it.’

There was a box of DVDs in the corner of the CID office — seized from Ma Stewart’s shop then signed in and out of evidence so people could borrow a couple of films for the evening. Not surprisingly all the hardcore ones had been first to go. Logan pawed through the remainder, looking for anything that might fill the awkward silence permeating the flat, unable to face another night of Insch’s Mikado.

A policewoman sauntered over, carrying a handful of Hollywood blockbusters — most of which weren’t even in the cinema yet — and dumped them back in the box, saying, ‘That new one with Tom Cruise is OK, but a couple of the others were well dodgy copies.’

‘Mmm?’ said Logan, not really paying attention.

‘Yeah. Is it OK if I borrow this one?’ Holding up a case for something animated with a penguin on the cover. ‘Got my niece coming to stay tonight.’

‘Just make sure you get it back by lunchtime — they’re shifting this lot to central storage tomorrow afternoon.’

‘Will do.’

Nine o’clock and he was all set to go home, hoping that Jackie wasn’t there. He grabbed a handful of DVDs