‘Gets himself all hot and bothered, then goes home and giveshiswife one for a change.’
‘How long did you wait this time?’
Splosh, squeeze, scrub. ‘Only a couple minutes. He’d had a bucket, and no way I’m cleaning vomit out of leather upholstery.’
Over in the next yard, someone clanged away at a metal pipe with a hammer.
An old ELO track oozed out through a warehouse window.
And Dougie still hadn’t made eye contact.
Logan pointed at the BMW. ‘Fancy electric car like this must have loads of sensors and cameras.’
‘Like Jodrell Sodding Bank. Can’t evenfartwithout setting off a million dings, bleeps, and flashing lights.’
Excellent.
‘Any chance we could take a look?’
LXXV
Sometimes it was OK to give up and just slip away.
Wave goodbye to the pain and the suffering and the struggle.
Like Nanna Carter, in her hospice bed.
Natasha blinked out at the filthy barn.
The air was heavy with flies, making the airthrummmmandbuzzzzzzzzzz. Seemed to be more of them every time she opened her eyes – drawn to the all-you-can-eat buffet of blood.Gorging.
Not that DS Davis minded.
A big greasy bluebottle landed on his face, doing a little dance across the ragged scar on his cheek, then onto his top lip. Before disappearing up his nose. Looking for a way to get at those tasty internal organs; somewhere warm and dark to lay a million little eggs that would hatch in a couple of days and—
‘Aaaaargh!’ His eyes shot open.‘Fuck!’His right leg jerked and trembled, but the left one – the one she’d turned into a colander with her rusty Stanley knife – stayed dead still.
Davis batted at his ghost-pale face with his right hand a couple of times. Coughing and spluttering. Then a tortured retching noise and he spat the bluebottle out.
It lay on its back in the wide scarlet lake, stuck there, legs twitching.
Davis’s left arm hung limp at his side, but he used the rightone to shove and swear and cough his way up, till he was half-sitting, half-slumped against the table saw. Breathing hard. Face screwed up in agony.
Good.
Natasha could barely work up a dry, whispery sneer. ‘Why can’t you justdie?’
Took a while, but eventually his eyes opened again. ‘You don’t...remember me...do you.’
‘Go fuck yourself.’
‘Your sort never...do. You dish out all...all thisgriefandhate...but...but there’s never any repercussions...no consequences....So you just...move on to...next victim.’
She hauled in a deep breath and rasped it out. ‘JUST DIE!’
Davis closed his eyes again.
Maybe the bastard had actually done what he’d been told?
