Page 54 of Better the Devil

‘No idea,’ Hamza admitted. ‘He new to you?’

‘Never seen him in ma puff.’

‘He’s, eh, he’s the new DCI, I think. For Aberdeen. I mean, Grampian.North East.’ The sergeant tutted. ‘Whatever it’s called.’

Hamza looked back over at the man. He was in his early forties, at a guess, with a head of curly ginger hair, and shoulders like a rugby player on steroids.

There had been talk of some restructuring at MIT North East in recent months, but Hamza had been so fixated on his own promotion, then so stressed out by the new job, that he hadn’t been paying too much attention.

Now, though, a name popped into his head, like it had been shoved in there through an earhole.

‘Reeve. Something Reeve,’ he said.

‘Oh, yes. God, aye. I remember!’ Ben said. ‘There was something about him just before I left.’

He clicked his fingers in a way that suggested that last remark had been a lie, then jumped in with a name.

‘Daniel?’ He shook his head. ‘No. David? Davie? Davie Reeve?’ Ben wrinkled his nose. ‘Don’t think that’s right. Donald?’

‘Nathan,’ Hamza said. ‘There was a briefing about it. Last month. Nathan. Nathan Reeve. I’m sure that’s right.’

He looked to Ben for confirmation, but the former DI just shrugged. ‘Damned if I know. I had him down as a Daniel, a David, and a Donald. I’ll take your word for it.’

He lifted the cordon tape and held it for Hamza to pass under, like a trainer escorting a boxer into the ring.

‘Whatever the bugger’s called, let’s go tell him to sling his bloody hook!’

‘Jack?’

Shona was shouting to him before she’d even got the front door closed. She rushed in, almost tripping over Taggart, who came racing along the hallway to meet her.

‘In here,’ Logan called, and she followed his voice to the kitchen, shrugging off her jacket as she ran.

‘What is it? What’s wrong? Your message, you sounded?—’

She choked on the final few words as she arrived in the kitchen and saw who was sitting there at the table, holding a bag of frozen peas to the bridge of his nose.

Olivia sat across from him and one chair to the left. It was the furthest possible seat from her father’s, like she was deliberately putting herself beyond his reach.

Logan stood with his arms folded, leaning against the sink. There was a wooden block filled with kitchen knives beside him, right within grabbing range.

Shona was fairly certain they hadn’t been sat there when she’d left.

‘What…? What the hell is this?’ she asked.

She knew who Bosco Maximuke was, of course. She had a pretty good idea of preciselywhathe was, too. Andwelcome in her housewas not one of them.

‘Please, do not be concerned,’ Bosco said. He smiled, but his teeth were still pink, and his appearance did nothing to put Shona at ease. ‘I come in peace, yes? I am here for good reason. Best reason.’

He slid a hand across the table towards his daughter. She didn’t move or even acknowledge the gesture.

Bosco continued, undeterred, his fingers stopping a few inches from hers.

‘Olivia. My Olivia. Apple of my eye, fruit of my loin.’

Olivia’s nostrils drew up in distaste. ‘Ew. Jesus.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Shona asked. She didn’t wait for him to answer, and turned her attention to Logan instead. ‘What’s he talking about?’