Flesh House

'Come on, Honey,' Duncan knelt in front of her,'Don't do this.' 'Blood to blood.' She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and plunged the knife in. Once. Twice. Three times. Ripping it back and forth, slashing herself wide open, staining the mattress dark, shining red. 'The knife's not real.' Stabbing, stabbing, stabbing ... A dry hand wrapped around her own, holding it still.'Heather, it's not real. You're imagining it.' She opened her eyes, looked down at her stomach. Nothing broken, nothing torn. Not even a drop of blood on her hands. 'But ... but the knife ... the Dark said ...' Feeling the tears start to come. 'The knife ...' 'Shhh ... it's OK.' Duncan wrapped her in his arms, holding her close. 'But it was real! It was--' 'Shhhhhhh ... you've gone mental, remember? There never was a knife.' He kissed the top of her head as she cried.'It's just what's left of your mind playing tricks on you. Like talking to dead people.' He placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up until she was looking into his beautiful eyes.'Even I'm not real.' 'I don't want to be crazy ...' He kissed her, then told her it was too late to worry about that now.

59

The lead firearms officer pointed back towards the house. 'Place has been deserted for years, we've been all over it from attic to basement and there's no sign of anyone. IB can tear the place apart, but I'll bet you pound to a penny there's nothing there.' DCS Bain nodded, then gave Logan what could only be described as a fucking horrible look. 'Well?' Chief Constable Faulds stepped in. 'Just because Jimmy Souter isn't here, doesn't mean it wasn't a solid piece of police work. We now have a suspect with a connection to the abattoir and one of the victims. That's a lot more than we had this morning.' 'We're still no closer to finding PC Munro.' Faulds asked Bain if he could have a quiet word, leading him away out of earshot as the firearms team piled back into their vans and sodded off before the rain started. 'I can see why you're thinking about leaving.' It was Jackie, dressed in her full ninja police gear: black shoes, black trousers, black T-shirt, black stab-proof vest with a black fleece over the top. 'A Chief Constable who's not an arsehole.' Logan nodded. 'And you're going back to Strathclyde.' 'If they'll have me after this ...' They stood and watched as the IB marched into the old Souter house, armed with crowbars, pickaxes, and shovels to tear the place apart. 'Jackie ... I'm sorry.'