Read Online Cold Granite by Stuart MacBride - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Stuart MacBride
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Crime, Mystery Fiction, Police, Hard-Boiled, Police Procedural, Children, Children - Crimes against, Aberdeen (Scotland), Police - Scotland - Aberdeen, Serial murders - New York (State) - New York - Fiction
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reel of film into place.
'Doc Wilson gave the leg a tug, but other than that it's fresh.'
Bil y snapped a huge flashgun onto the top of the camera, smacking it with the side of his hand until it emitted a high-pitched whine. 'OK, back up ladies and gentlemen...'
Hard, blue-white light crackled in the confined space, fol owed by the clatter-whirr of the camera and the whine of the flash. Again and again and again...
Bil y was almost finished when Logan's phone went off. Cursing, he dragged it out of his pocket. It was Insch, looking for an update.
'Sorry, sir.' Logan had to raise his voice over the battering rain on the tent's roof. 'The pathologist isn't here yet. I can't get a formal identification without moving the body.'
Insch swore, but Logan could barely hear him.
'We've just had an anonymous cal . Someone saw a child matching Richard Erskine's description getting into a dark red hatchback this morning.'
Logan looked down at the pale blue, naked leg sticking up out of the garbage. The information had come too late to save the five-year-old.
'Let me know as soon as the pathologist gets there.'
'Yes, sir.'
*
Isobel MacAlister turned up looking as if she'd just stepped off a catwalk: long Burberry raincoat, dark-green trouser suit, cream high-col ared blouse, delicate pearl earrings, her short hair artistical y tousled. Wel ington boots three sizes too big for her...She looked so good it hurt.
Isobel froze as soon as she was inside, her eyes fixed on Logan dripping away in the corner. She almost smiled. Placing her medical case down on top of a bin-bag, she got straight to business. 'Has death been declared?'
Logan nodded, trying not to let his voice show how much the sight of her disturbed him.
'Doc Wilson did it half an hour ago.'
Her mouth turned down at the edges. 'I got here as soon as I could. I do have other duties to perform.'
Logan winced. 'I wasn't implying anything,' he said, hands up. 'I was just letting you know when death was declared. That's al .' His heart was hammering in his ears, drowning out the pounding rain.
She stood her ground, staring at him, her face cold and unreadable. 'I see...' she said at last.
She turned her back on him, covered her immaculate suit with the standard white boiler suit, pulled on her tiny microphone, recited the standard who, when and where, and got down to work.
'We have a human leg: left, protruding from a refuse sack from the knee down. Big toe has been subject to some form of laceration, probably post mortem--'
'A seagull was eating it,' said Watson, getting a cold smile for her pains.
'Thank you, Constable.' Isobel turned back to the stiff leg. 'Big toe shows signs of predation by a large sea bird.' She reached forward and touched the pale, dead flesh with her fingertips. With pursed lips she started pressing her thumb into the bal of the foot, feeling the toes with her other hand. 'I'l need to get the remains out of the bag before I can give you any estimated time of death.' She motioned for one of the IB team to come over and made him spread a fresh plastic sheet on top of the shifting floor of rubbish. They dragged the bag with the leg sticking out of it from the pile and onto the sheet. Al the time Bil y flashed and whirred away.
Isobel hunkered down in front of the bin-bag and slit it open with one smooth pass of a scalpel. Rubbish spil ed out of the sack, caught by the plastic sheeting. The naked body was curled in a bal , held in the foetal position with brown packing tape. Logan caught a glimpse of pale-blond hair and shivered. Dead children looked smal er than he'd remembered.
The skin was a delicate shade of milk-bottle white between the swathes of brown sticky tape, faint patches of purple forming over the shoulders. The poor little sod had been upside-down in the bag and the blood had pooled in the lowest parts.
'Do you have an ID?' Isobel asked, peering at the smal corpse.
'Richard Erskine,' said Logan. 'He's five.'
Isobel looked up
'Doc Wilson gave the leg a tug, but other than that it's fresh.'
Bil y snapped a huge flashgun onto the top of the camera, smacking it with the side of his hand until it emitted a high-pitched whine. 'OK, back up ladies and gentlemen...'
Hard, blue-white light crackled in the confined space, fol owed by the clatter-whirr of the camera and the whine of the flash. Again and again and again...
Bil y was almost finished when Logan's phone went off. Cursing, he dragged it out of his pocket. It was Insch, looking for an update.
'Sorry, sir.' Logan had to raise his voice over the battering rain on the tent's roof. 'The pathologist isn't here yet. I can't get a formal identification without moving the body.'
Insch swore, but Logan could barely hear him.
'We've just had an anonymous cal . Someone saw a child matching Richard Erskine's description getting into a dark red hatchback this morning.'
Logan looked down at the pale blue, naked leg sticking up out of the garbage. The information had come too late to save the five-year-old.
'Let me know as soon as the pathologist gets there.'
'Yes, sir.'
*
Isobel MacAlister turned up looking as if she'd just stepped off a catwalk: long Burberry raincoat, dark-green trouser suit, cream high-col ared blouse, delicate pearl earrings, her short hair artistical y tousled. Wel ington boots three sizes too big for her...She looked so good it hurt.
Isobel froze as soon as she was inside, her eyes fixed on Logan dripping away in the corner. She almost smiled. Placing her medical case down on top of a bin-bag, she got straight to business. 'Has death been declared?'
Logan nodded, trying not to let his voice show how much the sight of her disturbed him.
'Doc Wilson did it half an hour ago.'
Her mouth turned down at the edges. 'I got here as soon as I could. I do have other duties to perform.'
Logan winced. 'I wasn't implying anything,' he said, hands up. 'I was just letting you know when death was declared. That's al .' His heart was hammering in his ears, drowning out the pounding rain.
She stood her ground, staring at him, her face cold and unreadable. 'I see...' she said at last.
She turned her back on him, covered her immaculate suit with the standard white boiler suit, pulled on her tiny microphone, recited the standard who, when and where, and got down to work.
'We have a human leg: left, protruding from a refuse sack from the knee down. Big toe has been subject to some form of laceration, probably post mortem--'
'A seagull was eating it,' said Watson, getting a cold smile for her pains.
'Thank you, Constable.' Isobel turned back to the stiff leg. 'Big toe shows signs of predation by a large sea bird.' She reached forward and touched the pale, dead flesh with her fingertips. With pursed lips she started pressing her thumb into the bal of the foot, feeling the toes with her other hand. 'I'l need to get the remains out of the bag before I can give you any estimated time of death.' She motioned for one of the IB team to come over and made him spread a fresh plastic sheet on top of the shifting floor of rubbish. They dragged the bag with the leg sticking out of it from the pile and onto the sheet. Al the time Bil y flashed and whirred away.
Isobel hunkered down in front of the bin-bag and slit it open with one smooth pass of a scalpel. Rubbish spil ed out of the sack, caught by the plastic sheeting. The naked body was curled in a bal , held in the foetal position with brown packing tape. Logan caught a glimpse of pale-blond hair and shivered. Dead children looked smal er than he'd remembered.
The skin was a delicate shade of milk-bottle white between the swathes of brown sticky tape, faint patches of purple forming over the shoulders. The poor little sod had been upside-down in the bag and the blood had pooled in the lowest parts.
'Do you have an ID?' Isobel asked, peering at the smal corpse.
'Richard Erskine,' said Logan. 'He's five.'
Isobel looked up
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