Out into the living room again.
King’s feet were visible through the open kitchen door, the soles shiny with blood. ‘Haiden? Can you hear me?’
OK, King had the kitchen; that left two more rooms. Logan threw open the door to a small bathroom — chipped enamel tub, stained avocado toilet, a threadbare towel. ‘Clear!’
The last door opened in another bedroom, this one with wooden bunkbeds, the mattresses naked and stained tobacco-brown with sweat. ‘Clear!’
He joined King in the kitchen. Wood panelling lined the walls, painted a revolting shade of spearmint green, and playing host to about a dozen framed photos of chickens and pigs — the colours faded to muddy orange. A rickety table with the Audi’s wheel brace sitting on top of it. An old white fridge and ancient electric cooker. A door lying open, showing the fiery yellow broom and crystal blue sky. Haiden lay on his side in front of it, completely naked, one leg curled up, the other stretched out, face pale and shiny where it wasn’t stained dark red.
His back was clarted in gore, a black slit, about two inches wide, below his right shoulder blade. More blood around his mouth and down his chin. And then bubbles popped between Haiden’s lips... He was still alive.
‘Haiden?’ King stared up at Logan — his suit scarlet-soaked all down the sleeves — then down at the bleeding body. Grabbing his waxy shoulder and shaking it. ‘Haiden, stay with me, buddy, OK?’
Logan pulled out his phone and dialled Control. ‘I need an ambulance, and I need it now!’
‘Haiden? Can you hear me?’
‘Roger that, Inspector, where do you need it?’
‘Haiden? You’re going to be all right.’ King was getting louder. ‘We’re getting help, OK, Haiden?’
Logan stuck a finger in his ear and retreated to the living room. ‘Ceanntràigh Cottage, Cruden Bay. We’ve got an I–C-One male, stab wound, heavy blood loss.’
‘One second... Right we—’
Whatever came next was drowned out by King, shouting now: ‘WHERE ARE THEY, HAIDEN? WHERE DID YOU HIDE PROFESSOR WILSON AND THE OTHERS?’
Logan made for the far side of the room, where three small windows looked out over the curl of parched grass and the North Sea beyond. ‘Say again?’
‘They’ve dispatched the air ambulance, it’ll be with you soon as they can.’
He glanced at the kitchen: King was bent over Haiden, ear pressed close to the burbling scarlet froth coming out of Haiden’s mouth, as if he was taking a final confession.
‘Tell them to hurry.’
The hole where the front door used to be rattled as Steel and Tufty burst into the room, stabproofs on, truncheons and pepper spray at the ready.
Steel slithered to a halt, teeth bared. ‘Where is the daft wee shite?’
Tufty swept the room. ‘Clear!’
As if Logan and King hadn’t already done that.
Four uniformed officers battered in after them, kitted out in full riot-police body armour, complete with gauntlets, shin and elbow guards, helmets with face shields, batons drawn. They pretty much filled every available inch of the living room. Stubby and her Thugs.
Stubby flipped up her face shield and peered into the bloody kitchen. Then furrowed her dark hairy eyebrows at Logan. ‘Is the property secure?’
‘Mhari Powell’s missing.’
Tufty stuck his head into the bathroom. ‘Clear!’
Logan pointed out through the little windows. ‘Search the clifftops, she can’t have gone far. And watch out: she’s armed!’
A nod from Stubby. ‘Greeny: you and Ted, out front. Glen: you’re with me.’ And with that they thundered off again.
Tufty tried the spare bedroom. ‘Clea— Ow!’
Steel hit him again. ‘Cut it out, you prawn-flavoured arsemagnet.’
‘Only doing my job.’ Rubbing his arm. ‘And that hurt, thank you very much.’
She stood in the kitchen doorway, looking down at King and Haiden. ‘What a cocking mess.’
Now there was an understatement.
Then King sat back on his haunches, shook his head, and stood. ‘He’s dead.’
Logan closed his eyes, massaging the ache growing in his forehead. ‘Sodding hell.’ So close. If they’d kicked the door in five minutes earlier, they might have saved Haiden. Instead, they were all royally screwed.
When Logan opened his eyes again, King was wiping his bloody hands on his shirt.
He stood there, staring down at Haiden’s body, then huffed out a shuddering breath, picked up the wheel brace, face a sickly green-grey colour as he turned and stumbled out through the door, into the sunshine.
Couldn’t blame him: someone dying in your arms like that? Wasn’t easy. Didn’t matter how much of a scumbag they’d been...
Steel sighed. ‘Aye, Kingy’ll be off spewing his ring again.’ She leaned against the kitchen door frame, half-hanging into the room, frowning at Haiden’s naked corpse. ‘It true they were brother and sister?’
‘Mhari can’t have gone far — Haiden would’ve been...’
Wait a minute, was that an engine revving? It was — coming from the front of the cottage.
Logan marched for the battered-open front door, just in time to see the Audi’s four wheels spinning on the grass, then grabbing hold. The car shot forward with King in the driving seat. ‘Hey!’ He ran outside, waving both arms above his head. ‘COME BACK HERE!’
But the Audi didn’t come back here, it roared away up the track, leaving nothing but a trail of dust behind.
‘Damn it!’ Logan hurried inside.
Steel was thumbing away at something on her phone while Tufty had his head buried in an Oor Wullie annual. The pair of them standing about like the useless sods they were.
‘King’s nicked my car!’ He jabbed a hand at Steel. ‘Give me your keys.’
She didn’t even look up. ‘Aye, that’ll be shining.’
‘Oh for... He’s up to something! He was asking Haiden where the bodies were, then he rushed out of here and stole — my — bloody — car!’
‘Pffff...’ She stuck her phone in her pocket. Then pointed at Tufty. ‘You: Oor Wanky, secure the locus. Pretend you’re a crime-scene manager, or something. No one in or out, access log, blah, blah, blah.’
A grin. ‘Cool.’
Steel cricked her head from side to side, flexing her shoulders as she sauntered for the door. Cracked her knuckles like a concert pianist. Nodded at Logan. ‘Well, come on then. It’s hot pursuit time.’
Keys out, she slid behind the wheel of her MX-5, Logan scrambling into the passenger seat as the engine started with a throaty growl.
‘Right.’ Steel flicked open the car’s roof catch. ‘Before we do this, can you confirm to me that you’re commandeering this vehicle for the benefit of Professional Standards in the pursuance of an ongoing investigation?’
Seriously?
‘Will you put your foot down?’
She pressed a button on the dashboard, and the folding roof whirred down. ‘And that any damage sustained by my vehicle will be covered and remediated by Police Scotland at their expense?’
‘Yes, fine. Whatever. Now go!’
A grin. ‘Hold tight.’ The Mx-5’s engine bellowed, the rear end slithering from side to side, wheels spinning, like a terrier winding up, then the tyres gripped and the wee car shot forward, hammered between the parked patrol cars, and out onto the dirt track. ‘YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-HAW!’
Fields flashed past the car windows, much faster than they seemed to when Logan was driving. The dust King had kicked up in the Audi was thinning, caught by the offshore breeze, which at least meant they could see where they were going. But, given the way Steel was driving, maybe wasn’t such a great idea.