Dark Flight Read Free Page A

‘So, we have two dead women, one of them mutilated, and a missing child . . .’
    ‘And a cross made of human bones,’ Rhona finished for him.

3
    THE CLUB WAS beginning to fill up. The band didn’t perform till later. Now the place echoed with shrill voices just released from a day’s work.
    Chrissy and Rhona made straight for the bar. A stout man with glasses and a petite pretty brunette Rhona recognised from the mortuary, moved along a bit to give them room. It was Sean’s night off, or he would have been here already, setting up for the band, his saxophone on its stand in the corner of the stage. Tonight he would be at the flat, cooking a meal. Rhona knew she should have gone straight home, but didn’t want to. Better to sit with Chrissy for a while, until the real world seeped back into her system.
    One thing about her line of work: telling your partner what you’d seen and done in the previous six hours didn’t make for a comfortable evening.
    Guilt made her flip open her mobile. The phone rang out four times then switched to answerphone. She left a message about being kept late at work and rang off.
    The club was busy with Glasgow University personnel, including staff from the nearby forensic medical sciences department and a couple of forensicanthropologists from GUARD, the University’s Archaeological Research Department. This wasn’t a police hang-out, so she didn’t have to face McNab, although Bill, a keen jazz fan, often came in.
    She dismissed thoughts of Michael McNab from her mind. She hadn’t told Sean about that liaison. In fact they never discussed previous relationships, although she suspected Sean’s list was a lot longer than her own.
    Rhona ordered a white wine from Sam the barman. Chrissy screwed up her face at that, and went for a bright pink alcopop, reminding Rhona that alcohol served that way got into the blood faster, which is what she needed tonight.
    ‘So, what did McNab want?’ Her forensic assistant was nothing if not direct.
    ‘Strictly business,’ Rhona told her.
    ‘While he undressed you with his eyes.’
    ‘Bill was there.’
    ‘I bet that pissed McNab off.’
    ‘He’s a good CSM.’
    Chrissy shrugged and took a swallow. ‘If a little obsessive.’
    ‘It was a long time ago.’
    Chrissy made a noise in her throat that sounded like a grunt of disbelief. ‘McNab has a damaged ego where you’re concerned.’
    ‘I’m history,’ Rhona said firmly.
    It had been stupid getting involved with someone from work. There were lots of affairs in the police force. Unsocial hours, shift work, escape from the horrors of the job threw people together. Most liaisonsscrewed up the work and the personal life of those involved. It was the only time Rhona had made that mistake and it still bothered her.
    When McNab headed for the Fife Police College, it had seemed a perfect time to end it. Numerous emails and phone calls from him had left her feeling threatened as well as angry. So she’d told Bill in confidence. He must have had a quiet word with McNab because the communication onslaught had suddenly stopped. Now McNab was back in Glasgow and impossible to avoid.
    As Chrissy drained her bottle Sam appeared with another. He flashed her a big dazzling-white smile. ‘I finish in an hour?’
    ‘I’ll be here.’
    Rhona waited until he went to serve someone else, then raised an eyebrow at Chrissy.
    ‘What?’ Chrissy played the innocent.
    ‘You never said you were seeing Sam.’
    ‘I like to give it longer than three weeks before I spread the word.’
    ‘And?’
    Chrissy looked like the cat that got the cream. ‘Well, you know that story about black men . . .’
    ‘Stop, Chrissy!’
    The one thing you had to remember about Chrissy: she always told it like it was.
    Sam had left the wine bottle beside her and Rhona refilled her glass as Chrissy headed for the Ladies. Someone had switched on the overhead television. A news flash showed the photograph of the missing boywith