Flesh House

'It makes me feel bad.' 'Sure you don't want any?' 'Positive.' 'PLEASE!' 'Did you hear something?' Kelly's voice was low and urgent:'He's coming back ...' 'What do--' 'I'M A POLICE OFFICER!' 'Close your eyes! Pretend you're asleep.' Heather peered out into the darkness. 'But--' 'Roll over! Away from the bars! Keep your eyes closed, or he'll know you've not taken your medicine!' And he would hurt Kelley. Heather rolled over onto her side and screwed her eyes shut, lying perfectly still beneath the duvet. A metal clunk ... and then the groan of un-oiled hinges - the door opening - and light flooded their prison, she could feel it burning through her eyelids. Some rustling, and then Kelley said,'She's sleeping.' The light went out and everything was darkness again, then the boom of the door closing echoed through the metal cell, momentarily drowning out WPC Shouty. 'I'M A POLICE OFFICER! THEY'LL FIND YOU! YOU HEAR ME? THEY'LL ... Oh God ... No, please, I didn't ...' Then there was screaming. Heather waited for the bolt gun's'Crack' and drifted off to sleep.

57

Logan tried HM Customs and Revenue, but no one would speak to him without a warrant. It was the same story at Elizabeth Nichol's bank, so he gave up and put a call through to the PC they'd left guarding the woman's ruined home - asking him to have a poke about and see if he couldn't find any payslips or bank statements. Twenty minutes later the constable was back with the name of a haulage firm in Inverurie and a complaint about the number of journalists and TV people crawling all over Nichol's street.'Had to chase two of the bastards out the back garden. Bit of backup would be nice!' Logan said he'd see what he could do, hung up, and tried the hauliers. 'Hello, Garioch United International Distribution Limited, hope you're having a GUID day. How may I direct your call?' It took a while, but eventually Logan managed to persuade her to put him through to someone in charge. 'Oh for God's sake. What now?'