Page 6 of Better the Devil

Logan reached for the door handle.

‘It’s just… You know. Like that teacher said,’ Shona continued. ‘It’s not exactlynormal, this whole thing. I just want to do right by her. I don’t want to let her down.’

‘You’re not.We’renot. We won’t,’ Logan said. ‘I mean, it’s a miracle she’s alive, given everything, so anything above that’s a bonus.’

Shona smiled at that, but her heart wasn’t in it. ‘I just don’t want her to lose her way.’

Logan slid a hand on top of hers. The size difference meant he almost enveloped it completely.

‘She won’t. And if she does, we’ll help her find the way back.’

Shona turned her hand, palm upwards, and locked their fingers together.

‘You’re not a bad lad, Jack Logan,’ she told him.

She gave his hand a squeeze, then pulled hers away as she pushed open the door.

‘No matter what everyone else says.’

It took a second for him to process that last comment.

‘Here, what the hell’s that supposed to mean?’ he called after her.

But she was already gone.

He caught up to her just before the cordon tape, which a uniformed constable was already hurriedly pulling aside to let them pass.

‘Thanks. This the car, is it?’ Shona asked, pointing at a black BMW that stood apart from the police vehicles on either side.

‘Uh, aye. Yes. Ma’am,’ the constable said.

Shona grimaced. ‘Oh, God, please don’t call me that,’ she said, producing a sealed pack of surgical gloves from her pocket. ‘Makes me sound like one of you lot.’

She raced on towards the waiting car, and Logan realised what the rush was about. There was no tent erected over or around the vehicle. Scene of Crime was yet to arrive. Shona wastrying to get in there and officially declare the death without crossing paths with?—

‘“When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain?”’

Geoff Palmer emerged from behind a police van, snapping the elasticated hood of his white paper suit into place around the bright red orb that was his face.

Under normal circumstances, there wasn’t much to enjoy about the head of the Scene of Crime unit. Looking at him was a chore. Listening to him was often a physical ordeal. Any moment spent in his company, in Logan’s opinion, was some form of Karmic punishment for past misdeeds.

And tonight, for some reason, Geoff was doubling down on all of it. He came hobbling towards them, back stooped, face twisted into a monstrous scowl. Everyone within earshot had turned to look at him, equal parts drawn and repelled by the shrill screech of his voice.

‘“When the hurly-burly’s done, when the battle’s lost and won”!’ Geoff cried.

Logan blinked, drawing back a step. ‘The hell is this now?’

Palmer stopped in front of them, screwed one eye shut, clawed at the air, and threw back his head.

‘“That will be ere the set of…”Ooh-ya-bastard!’

Geoff froze, his head tilted at an awkward angle.

‘Aw. Shit. I just did my neck in,’ he yelped, gripping and rubbing it through the protective paper suit. ‘Yep. Yep, I’ve absolutely knackered it.’

A smile spread slowly across his face. Logan felt a weariness creeping over him. If there was one thing worse than Geoff Palmer, it was a happy Geoff Palmer.

‘And that, lady and gentleman,’ he said, easily straightening his neck as he took a little bow, ‘is a little thing that we in the business callacting.’