A light blossomed above the door. 'Inspector?' Clunk, jingle, and the door drifted open a crack. Then came the sound of someone shuffling off back into the house. 'Inspector? Hello?' Logan put one hand on the wood and pushed. The hallway was in darkness, but down at the far end he could just make out Insch's rounded bulk as he placed a foot on the stairs and began to climb. Logan stepped inside and closed the door behind him. 'Are you OK?' Insch just kept on climbing, the stairs creaking as he disappeared from view. 'Oh God ...' Logan peered into the lounge: it was a disaster area. The settee and armchairs upturned, stuffing ripped out, wooden frames buckled, coffee table a heap of twisted metal and broken glass. The dining room was just as bad: chairs broken, table on its side - a perfect circle of scorched varnish just visible in the gloom. Insch must have run out of steam by the time he'd reached the kitchen. Logan backed out into the hall and crept up the stairs. He found the inspector sitting on the floor in the corner of a small bedroom, surrounded by stuffed animals. The faint orange glow of a plug-in nightlight glittered back from dozens of black plastic eyes. A hand-painted sign on the door said,'SOPHIE'S SECRET PALACE [?]BEWARE OF THE DRAGON!!!' Logan stopped at the threshold. 'How's Miriam?' Insch sniffed, wiped his nose on the back of his hand, then picked up a fluffy unicorn. His voice was small and ragged:'She was going to be a doctor. Or a ballerina. Or an astronaut. Depended on what day it was ...' He hadn't showered or shaved in a couple of days; his jowls covered in dark-blue stubble, heavy black bags under his eyes, clothes rumpled and stained. The smell of stale alcohol oozed out of him. Logan picked his way through the furry minefield of bears and dinosaurs and pigs and dragons, then sank down with his back to the unmade bed. 'Everyone at the station's asking for you. They're getting up a collection. Going to get a park bench dedicated to Sophie.' It had sounded so appropriate when Steel had told him about it yesterday, now it just sounded hollow and crass.' ... I'm sorry.' 'She left me. Miriam. She got out the hospital, took the girls and went to her mother's.' Another sniff. 'Said she couldn't bear to look at me anymore. That it was my fault.' 'Sir, I--' 'Wiseman was after me, and they paid for it.' He wrapped his huge arms around the little unicorn, buried his face in its fur. Logan closed his eyes and stepped off the cliff:'I wasn't your fault, it was mine. If I hadn't chased Wiseman--' 'He was going to sell her to a paedophile. Right now, she'd be ...' The huge man shuddered. When he looked up his eyes sparkled with tears. 'How do you explain to a child's mother that her little girl's better off dead?' 'I'm so sorry ...' Logan pulled open the carrier bag, and dragged out four tins of Guinness. 'Got them at that wee supermarket in Newmacher. Still cold.' He held one out. Insch took the tin, clicked the ring pull and drank deep. 'Here,' Logan went back into the bag for a family-sized packet of jelly babies and a box of Terry's All Gold,'The chocolates were for Miriam.'
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