Torch Read Free

other
gallus, the dichotomy of the Scottish urban psyche.
    Rhona turned
from the train window and shook her head at the offer of coffee
from the trolley. The lemon chicken from the night before was
taking its toll.
    She had called
Sean from the station to explain her sudden departure for
Edinburgh.
    ‘Will you be
back before I leave for Amsterdam?’
    ‘I don’t think
so.’
    ‘I’ll give you
a call when I get there.’
    ‘I’m staying at
Greg’s.’
    ‘Okay. I’ll see
you in a week then.’
    The call had
ended in an awkward silence.
    Rhona turned to
the window as the train drew away from Linlithgow Station. Low
December sunlight brushed the imposing walls of Linlithgow Palace
and danced on the choppy waters of the nearby loch. One summer when
she was eight or nine, her father had brought her here for the day.
She’d stood in the big courtyard with its wonderful fountain and
tried to imagine what it was like to be the princess destined to be
Queen of Scots.
    She wondered,
not for the first time, what her beloved adoptive parents would
think of her now, had they been alive. They had never known about
Liam. She’d kept her pregnancy a secret. Edward, her lover at the
time wasn’t ready to be a father. She had to finish her degree and
establish her career. Their relationship had been washed away in
the misery and guilt she’d felt after giving up her baby for
adoption. Like her, Liam had had adoptive parents who loved him.
For her it had been enough. But for Liam?
    Edinburgh
Waverley was busy with tourists in town for The Biggest Hogmanay
Party in the world. A young guy was selling the Big Issue on the
Waverley steps. Rhona thrust a two pound coin in his hand. He tried
to give her change but she waved it away and he smiled his
thanks.
    The east end of
Princes Street was almost devoid of traffic. A little way along she
realised why. The police had cordoned off a section of road and
were directing traffic onto George Street.
    When Rhona
reached the cordon she showed the constable on duty her ID then
headed for the incident tent.
     

Chapter 4
     
    Severino MacRae
reached for the phone on the third ring, an Americanism he’d picked
up at some stupid management course they’d insisted he go on. Never
before the third ring, never after. The habit had stuck.
    ‘Of course I’m
up,’ Sev threw back the covers. ‘Already been for a jog.’ He lifted
the open whisky bottle from the bedside cabinet with his left hand
and threw some into a nearby glass. ‘It’s better than sex,
Sergeant. You should try it.’ He moved the receiver out of the way.
The alarm clock showed nine. ‘I’ve an appointment at eleven
thirty.’ He held the phone in the crook of his neck while he poured
another shot. ‘Okay I’ll be there. Just tell them to touch nothing.
Got that? Nothing. And Sergeant? Tell MacFarlane not to piss on the
embers or I’ll cut off his dick.’
    The bottle was
empty. He threw it in the bin on his way to the shower. There was
always a chance Gillian might come round. He didn’t want her to
think he lived like a pig just because she had left him and taken
their daughter Amy with her.
    The water on
his head woke him up enough to remember Gallagher was still in
hospital recovering from his heart attack. Looking at Gallagher’s
colour last night, Sev guessed his colleague would be out of the
game for at least six weeks. So no forensic or at least no
forensic, that had Gallagher’s experience of fires. It was as if
this particular fire raiser knew he had a clear run.
    Sev dried
himself and looked for a clean shirt. The hangers in the wardrobe
stared emptily back at him. Shit. He’d left the six new non-iron
shirts from Marks and Spencer in his office. He picked last night’s
off the floor. If he kept his jacket on he might avoid knocking
anyone out.
    Before he left,
he phoned Gillian. He knew before he started to speak it was a
hopeless case. There was frost forming on the other end of the
line.
    ‘What makes