'Did he now?' Faulds leant on the railing, staring down into the trough at the toothed screw at the bottom. 'And what conclusion did the great Chief Superintendent come to?' 'The Flesher probably has ties to the cleaning company that does the offices.' 'Clever. So he's got an excuse to be on the premises in the middle of the night, get a vehicle close to the building, and nobody's going to look twice if he's seen carrying bin bags.' 'We interviewed everyone who works for them: full-time, part-time, and casual. No joy. Bain's widened the net to friends and family.' 'Worth a try I suppose.' Faulds pushed himself upright and headed down the stairs. 'But it's not a cleaner.' 'How do you know?' The Chief Constable stopped and turned to look at Logan. 'I've been chasing the Flesher for over twenty years.' He smiled. 'Who knows him better than me?'
44
The walls pulsed in the darkness, she could feel them, making the air taste of sparklers. Heather lay on her back, one arm thrown across her face, the pressure keeping her eyes from rolling out of her head. 'Kelley ... I don't feel good ...' On the other side of the wall, the new girl was screaming again. Shouting. Swearing. Demanding to be let out. For a blissful couple of hours she'd been quiet - then she'd told them all about her sister and how she'd opened the door expecting the pizza guy, only to find the Flesher standing on the top step. How everything was covered in blood ... Still, the calm had been nice while it lasted. 'Kelley?' 'Shh ... I'm here, Heather. It's OK. You just need a bit of sleep, that's all.' 'I think there was something wrong with the meat ...' Silence. 'What? What was wrong with it?' 'Maureen. The new girl. She said her sister was diabetic. She'd be injecting herself with drugs ... I thought it tasted funny ... Oh God ...' Kelley reached through the bars and gave Heather's hand a squeeze. 'They inject with insulin. It occurs naturally in the body. I doubt it'd even survive the cooking process. Maybe you got concussion when you banged your head?' 'Maybe.' The screaming settled down for a minute and Heather breathed a sigh of relief. Then it started up again. 'That bloody racket isn't helping.' She waited for Mr New to appear and tell her she was being cruel, but nothing happened. Maybe he was off giving Duncan's ghost a hard time? The sulky sod had barely showed his dead face since Kelley arrived. Or maybe it was Heather's fault? Maybe Duncan wasn't coming round so often because she was getting a little bit less mad every day? Now that she wasn't trapped in here on her own any more, maybe she was going slowly sane. Heather laughed. Then groaned. Then thought about throwing up.
