lies!’
‘Jesus, Richard, calm down!’ A large woman – one of Knox’s minders from Sacro – was crouching behind the sofa, popping her head up over the dusty fabric, then ducking down again as a shire horse turned into porcelain shrapnel.
‘They’ve no right!’
Logan froze on the threshold, head pounding. ‘What the hell’s going on here?’
Knox snatched a Scotty dog from the mantelpiece and drew his arm back to send it flying. Logan stepped forward and grabbed it off of him.
‘All right, that’s enough!’
Knox span around, eyes wide and shiny. Lips twitching across his gritted teeth. ‘Give it back!’
‘Constable Guthrie?’
Guthrie bumbled into the living room, clutching greasy paper bags from the baker’s they’d stopped at on the way over here, a wodge of flaky pastry in his other hand. ‘What?’
‘Lying…’ Knox’s eyes darted left, then right, then he snatched up a fishing teddy bear and sent that flying instead. ‘BASTARDS!’
The constable dumped his baked goods on the ancient couch and grabbed Knox’s arm, twisting it up behind his back, then slamming him into the wall. ‘Behave yourself!’
Knox struggled, screaming abuse. Guthrie glanced over at Logan, and got the nod. He pulled Knox back a couple of feet, then rammed him forwards again. Making the photos above the mantelpiece rattle.
‘Aaagh…get off us!’
‘You want another one?’
Knox didn’t reply, but he did keep wriggling, so Guthrie introduced him to the wallpaper again.
This time the struggling stopped.
‘You want the handcuffs?’
Silence.
‘OK.’ The constable let go and stepped back.
Knox staggered towards one of the cat-shredded armchairs and collapsed into it, rubbing his wrist and staring at the dead television. ‘Liars…’
The woman crept around from behind the sofa. ‘Thanks.’ There were little flecks of white china in her hair.
Logan pulled out his notebook. ‘Richard Knox, I’m arresting you for assault. You do not have to say anything, but if you fail to mention—’
‘I didn’t assault anyone.’ He kept his eyes on the ghosts in the TV screen.
Logan glanced at the woman, raised his eyebrows.
She shook her head. ‘Didn’t touch me.’
‘Where’s your partner? Thought there was supposed to be two of you.’
Knox shifted in his seat, muttering, ‘Got me rights…’
‘Harry’s stuck in the bog. Had a dodgy chicken chow mein last night. I was going to send him home if he doesn’t get any better.’
Logan looked around at the wreckage, then rubbed at his gritty eyes. ‘You want to tell me what the hell this was about then?’
She pointed at a tattered copy of the
Logan bent and picked up the front page, letting the rest of it fall back to the floor.
Exclusive by Colin Miller
Everyone knows a leopard can’t change his spots: once a dangerous animal, always a dangerous animal, but the people of Aberdeenshire are being expected to believe that convicted serial rapist Richard Knox can live amongst them without posing a serious risk to the population. Knox (39), a vicious sexual predator, served eight years in a high-security prison for the brutal abduction and rape of Newcastle grandfather William Brucklay (68)…
It wasn’t exactly the journalist’s best work. Sensationalist, melodramatic, and obviously designed to whip up outrage and panic. Further in it got even worse, with quotes from people in Newcastle, and William Brucklay’s grandchildren: teenagers more than happy to share the family’s anger. Castration’s too good for him, they should bring back hanging. That kind of thing.
And in Richard Knox’s case, they were probably right.
Logan folded the page up, then dumped it on the coffee table.
Knox was clutching his carrier bag again, the thing rustling as he rocked back and forth in his seat, muttering. ‘It’s all lies.’
‘All of it?’
‘“Convicted serial rapist”.’ He scowled at the TV. ‘Was convicted of one rape.
