Dark Blood полностью

‘And tell them to do it properly this time, no fuck-ups.’

‘Knox drugs his Sacro handlers, beats the crap out of them, gets past the surveillance team…Then stops off on the way down the road so he can torture and rape an old man in Cove? Like it’s a service station and he fancies a burger?’ Logan hauled the plug out of the sink, letting the water gurgle away. ‘Do you think he’s the one who snatched Danby?’

He could hear her chewing again. ‘Want to say yes, but…How’s a weedy wee shite like that get the jump on someone like Danby, never mind carry him down the stairs?’

‘So he had help. Would explain where he got the Rohypnol from. Half the heavies in Tyneside are after Mental Mikey’s millions, maybe this is Knox’s price? Help him get revenge on the guy who put him away, and then disappear?’

‘Aye, maybe…’ Pause. ‘Listen, get onto Northumbria Police, I want to know what Danby’s been working on, just in case it’s no’ got anything to do with our wee rapist chum. And while you’re doing the rounds: chase up Lothian and Borders. Andrew Connelly must’ve shown his baldy head somewhere by now. Just cos everything’s going to shite, doesn’t mean I’m letting that big bald bastard get away with what he did to Steve Polmont.’

Biohazard Bob was hunched over a pile of paperwork in the Wee Hoose. He looked up as Logan entered, then went back to his forms. ‘Shut the bloody door.’

Clunk. The noise of phones and harassed constables died down.

Logan settled into his chair and called Northumbria Police. Ten minutes later he had reference numbers for every case Danby had worked in the last eighteen months, and a promise that the relevant files would be with him soon as possible. Then he was put through to a Detective Inspector Walsh.

‘You the one told us about Oscar Renwick? Used to share a cell with Richard Knox in Frankland Prison?’ The Newcastle accent was clipped and angry.

Logan frowned at the receiver. ‘Yes?’

‘You got any idea how many man-hours we wasted looking into that?’

‘Wasted? But he was—’

‘He was nowhere near any of them house fires. None. Had castiron alibis, you know what I mean?’

Logan opened the spreadsheet of Knox’s cellmates from Frankland Prison. ‘But Knox said Renwick told him—’

‘Knox’s a sex offender, remember? They manipulate, that’s what they do.’

‘But—’

‘Knox managed to smuggle a mobile phone into his cell, and Renwick sold him out to one of the prison officers. Knox knew Renwick was going to be up for parole soon, so he told you a happy little fairytale about murdered families. Bang: big investigation and no parole for Renwick. Knox was using you to get his own back, and you fell for it!’

‘But I didn’t know—’

‘And now I’ve got me guv’nor breathing down me neck for all the overtime I’ve blown on this, Sergeant. Thanks. Thanks a bloody heap.’

‘But…’

He was talking to a dead line. The DI had hung up.

Logan leant forward, banged his head on the desk, and swore for a bit.

‘You ever think about the job?’

Logan sat up. ‘What?’

‘The job.’ Bob was facing the wall, but he was speaking to Logan. ‘What the point is?’

‘Every sodding day.’

Bob nodded. ‘It’s like the whole bloody city’s on fire, and all we can do is piss on the bit in front of us.’ He thumped his pen down on the desk. ‘I’m fucking sick of getting my pubes scorched off.’

Logan laughed, but Bob wasn’t even smiling.

‘You talked to Deborah, didn’t you.’