Page 144 of Better the Devil

Hamza’s voice was faint and crackly, the limits of Highland mobile phone coverage making themselves known once again.

Across the room, Sergeant Fleck finished logging into the database, and keyed in the registration details.

Pressing the phone to his ear, Dave managed to get the gist of what the detective inspector was telling him. Blackmail plot. Callum Walker. Two of the younger members of HAWKS.

Ben bobbed from foot to foot as he rushed back and forth between both desks. On Fleck’s screen, the registration search came back with a hit.

Over the phone, Hamza gave the one name that Callum had known. The man who had orchestrated the blackmailing of Victor Belov.

‘Curtis Neil,’ Dave repeated. He looked over at the Big Board, like he was expecting to find a photograph of the man already pinned up there. ‘Who the fuck is Curtis Neil?’

Across at the other desk, Fleck turned the monitor so Ben could see it. The sergeant’s face had turned a shade of ash-grey.

There, under the registered keeper section of the DVLA listing, was the same name.

‘Curtis Neil,’ Ben read.

‘Who is he?’ Dave asked. He scanned the Big Board again, but they had nothing there about the man. Not a sausage.

That wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Fleck cleared his throat as he rose to his feet, one hand pressed on the desk to steady himself.

‘Someone dangerous,’ he whispered. ‘He’s someone very, very dangerous indeed.’

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Eleanor Belov wasadamant that she hadn’t been anywhere near the site of her second husband’s death, and she had the receipts to prove it.

Security camera footage from outside the house and her front gate showed her car hadn’t moved. Her phone’s GPS tracking had her at home all day, and she told Logan that at least two delivery drivers—one dropping off a package, the other bringing a food order—would be able to verify that she’d spoken to them directly.

It was the car that confused Logan the most. If it had just been Eleanor herself at home, he could’ve worked on the assumption that someone else had been driving the vehicle when it was picked up on the camera.

But the car hadn’t budged. It wasn’t her.

The security camera footage could be faked, of course. It would be easy enough, especially for someone of her means. The fact she’d been so quick to access it from her phone had set some alarm bells ringing, but another thought had crept in at the same time.

The car. The bag.

Her car. Her bag.

What if Victor Belov had never been the target?

What if?—

There was a knock at the door. A thump-thump-thump that demanded a response.

‘Excuse me,’ Logan said.

He announced he was pausing the recording, then stopped the tape. By the time he was out of his seat, Ben had already cajoled the Uniform on guard into opening the door.

The look on the older man’s face told Logan not to waste time asking questions. Not in front of Eleanor and her legal team, at least.

‘Sorry, I’ll just be a few minutes,’ he told them. Then, ignoring the lawyer’s objections, he stepped out into the corridor and closed the door. ‘What?’

‘We’ve got him,’ Ben said. ‘The van. The driver. We found him.’

‘What? Where is he?’ Logan demanded.