Easy Kill Read Free Page B

once, earlier in her career. The only death to fear, he’d said, was your own. It was a strange thought for him to voice, consideringhow much he worried about the well-being of his two teenage children, and now his wife Margaret.
    A line of police vehicles was parked in Cathedral Square. Once inside her car, Rhona called Chrissy.
    ‘Go home,’ Chrissy told her. ‘I’ve logged and stored everything. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
    Rhona found herself readily agreeing.
    She drove westward through the city towards a sky bruised red and blue. It looked both beautiful and ominous.
    Rhona found herself craving the small ordinary things of life, as far away from violent death as was imaginable. The sounds of the flat when she would open the door, sometimes a hushed silence, sometimes music. The soft mew of the kitten. Its purr of pleasure as it greeted her arrival. Rhona’s skin prickled in anticipation as she slid her key quietly into the lock.
    Tonight there was music, but no sign of Tom the cat. She stood for a moment in the hall, breathing in its familiar scents, then went in search of the occupants.
    They were both in the kitchen. Sean stood facing the window, listening intently, the kitten cradled in his arms. Something in his stance stopped Rhona from interrupting.
    The music was jazz piano, a tune Rhona was unfamiliar with. A padded envelope lay on the table. Nearby was an empty CD case. Musicians often sent Sean samples of their work, hoping for a gig at the jazz club. Rhona assumed this was one of those occasions.
    As the track drew to a close, Sean turned, sensing her presence. He placed the kitten on the window seat, where it curled itself into a tiny ball.
    ‘That was Sam playing.’
    ‘Sam?’ Rhona’s heart leapt.
    Sean indicated the envelope. ‘The CD arrived this morning.’
    Sam Haruna, the father of Chrissy’s unborn child, had been forced to flee during Rhona’s last big case, uncovering a child-trafficking ring in Nigeria. The men chasing him were both influential and ruthless, and if Sam was still alive he was in great danger.
    Rhona picked up the envelope, postmarked London, three days before. ‘He must have made it back to London. I have to call Chrissy and tell her. She’ll be over the moon.’ Rhona pulled out her mobile, but Sean stopped her hand before she could dial.
    ‘I think we should wait.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘This recording could have been made at any time. It doesn’t prove Sam’s alive now.’
    ‘Who else would send the CD, if it wasn’t Sam?’
    Sean didn’t have to answer. The Suleiman family were as powerful in the UK as they were in Nigeria. If they suspected Sam was back in Britain, then all his ties were here in Glasgow. His job, his church, his girlfriend. They would do anything to flush him out. The muggy heat of the kitchen suddenly seemed suffocating, as though West Africa had followed Rhona home.
    ‘We can’t tell Chrissy until we’re sure.’
    Sean was right. It would be too cruel, especially now.
    ‘There’s something I haven’t told you,’ said Rhona.
    The kitten, sensing her mood, rose and stretched with a plaintive miaow, jumped lightly down and came to rub itself against her legs.
    Sean waited.
    ‘Chrissy’s pregnant.’
    A series of emotions played across Sean’s face, and Rhona convinced herself that envy was one of them.
    He shook his head in amazement. ‘Sam would have loved that.’ He corrected himself. ‘Sam will love that.’
    Rhona couldn’t meet Sean’s gaze. She’d purposefully kept this news from Sean, telling herself it was early days yet. Chrissy didn’t want everyone to know. All lies, of course. Chrissy had no problem with Sean knowing about Sam’s child. It was Rhona that had the problem. Ever since Sean had expressed his desire to have a child, one drunken night after his father died, Rhona had been torturing herself about it. When she’d challenged him sober, Sean had told her to forget it. That all Irishmen were maudlin in drink.