Read Online Harrigan and Grace - 01 - Blood Redemption by Alex Palmer - Free Book Online

was cooling on the table in front of him, a half-eaten roll beside it.
    ‘How are you?’ he asked, returning the persistent object to its holder on his belt. She wondered if he ever thought of turning it off or throwing it away.
    ‘I’m okay,’ she replied. ‘Do you mind if we sit outside so I can have a cigarette? I know it’s a bit cold.’
    ‘You smoke, do you? We’re in the right place for you then, you must have a death wish. No, I don’t mind just so long as you don’t want to smoke in the car. My car’s been a cigarette-free zone ever since I gave them away myself.’
    I wouldn’t dream of it, boss, she thought.
    They found a table under an awning, out of the scattered rain and sheltered from the wind which harried litter in small gusts across the tiny stretch of open ground.
    ‘Did you pass out?’ he asked as they sat down.
    ‘No.’
    ‘I wouldn’t worry about it if you did. It’s going to happen to you at least once if you’ve got half a brain.’
    He sounded almost sympathetic. Grace, on the other hand, was reminded of the last few hours and felt an immediate return of nausea.
    She put down her sandwich and drank coffee instead.
    ‘I’m not lying, I didn’t pass out,’ she said. ‘I felt a little queasy, that’s all. I just needed something to eat.’
    He drank his own coffee and watched her force her way through the leftovers of her sun-dried tomato and ham sandwich.
    ‘I’m sure you did,’ he said when she had finished. ‘But want me to tell you the reason you’re feeling it now? You saw something of the man. Everything about that boy made his father more real to you.
    You’ve got to remember, it’s not a person you’re dealing with. Whoever they were, they don’t exist any more, it’s good night for them. A body’s nothing, it’s a throwaway. See it that way and it can’t hurt you.’
    He spoke dispassionately, a giver of useful advice. A brief shower of rain fell on the awning, a sound like a hush as Grace brushed away the crumbs and lit her first cigarette of the day with relief. She glanced out at the passing rain and felt cold at heart.
    ‘Do you have to see it like that?’ she replied. ‘A body isn’t just nothing. Not to the people who cared about him.’
    ‘You’re not those people and you can’t afford to think like that. Not in there.’
    ‘No? Because if I do, the pathologist will stick the knife into me instead? “This is all of us, madam. Remember that, because you’ll be here soon enough.”’ She heard herself mimicking McMichael’s soft dry voice with savage accuracy. ‘What a horrible creep he was! Is he always like that?’
    To her surprise, Harrigan laughed, much more than what she had said called for. She wondered how much tension he had stored away in there.
    ‘Yeah. He is. A horrible creep,’ he said, still laughing. ‘And yes, he is always like that. I don’t know how often I’ve heard him give that little speech. He’s got a filthy temper. He’s reliable, that’s the only thing you can say about him. You wouldn’t ask him round for dinner.’
    He wiped his eyes.
    ‘You’ve had quite a day, haven’t you? We didn’t even have to organise it for you. We just tossed you in at the deep end.’
    ‘It’s okay, it’s not a big deal. This isn’t my first job.’
    This solicitude embarrassed her, she wanted to brush it away.
    ‘Either way, I wouldn’t worry about it. You’ve handled it well.’
    ‘Thanks,’ she replied concisely, blushing faintly under her make-up.
    She had always dealt badly with praise. Unconsciously, she touched the raised line of a scar on her neck, a straight thread-like mark beginning with a fish hook near her pulse and finishing above the line of her breast bone. It was a habit all her self-discipline could not suppress. The touch of her fingers wanted to soothe away both the scar and the indelible physical memory of the cut itself. She saw his gaze follow the movement of her hand and, realising what she