Free Bloodline-9 by Mark Billingham

to decide if she could be bothered making the cheese on toast she was suddenly craving.
    She felt genuinely pleased for Greg, and hoped, even if it turned out to be no more than a one-night stand, that he at least enjoyed himself. That he took ful advantage.
    Her brother did not get lucky very often.
    MY JOURNAL
    28 September
    I’m tired, of course, more or less al the time, because there’s an awful lot of rushing about, keeping al the bal s in the air, but when each new chal enge has been successful y met, when a tick goes next to a name, there’s a buzz which makes me forget how wiped out I am and makes every ounce of blood, sweat and tears worth it.
    And there’s been plenty of al three!
    I was thinking earlier about something my father said. He told me once that setting goals and achieving them had been the only thing that had got him through some of the tougher times towards the end. Reading a book al the way through, finishing a crossword, whatever. Obviously, bearing in mind his situation, they were smal things, things which the rest of the world would take for granted, but they meant a hel of a lot to him at that time. These goals I’ve set for myself are rather grander, I can see that. A bit more difficult to set up and pul off. But, Christ, the feeling when it al comes together is like nothing on earth. After it’s done - even though I’m already thinking about the other places I need to be and the people I need to be when I get there - I just feel so fired-up and ful of it. So desperate to get back and get the words down, to describe how it al went, that I’m scribbling away on these pages before I’ve even bothered to wash off the blood.
    ‘Journal’, not ‘diary’, and that’s deliberate. A col ection of thoughts and ideas and reflections on this weird bloody world. How we end up where we are. Something to be read one day and hopeful y enjoyed. Not just what I had for breakfast or watched on TV or any of that.
    The brother and sister thing could not have gone a lot better. Students have it pretty bloody easy, if you ask me. I know they moan about paying back loans and al that, but most of them seem happy enough to spend every night in the bar getting wasted. It’s an easier life than most, I reckon. Actual y, the brother wasn’t much of a party animal, not like some of them, but after a while it wasn’t the drink he was coming back for anyway.
    He wasn’t hard to tempt!
    I could see straight away what he’d be attracted to. Just holding the stare for a few seconds longer than normal. The whole ‘bit of rough’ thing. By the time he plucked up the courage to come over and say anything, it was a done deal and we were on the way back to his place quickly enough after that.
    The sister had made breakfast for the two of us. I found the tray outside his door afterwards. That was sweet, I have to admit. She knocked first, then I heard the door open and the slap of her bare feet on the stripped floorboards.
    He was face down and I was lying across the bed, naked but with the sheet covering the things she didn’t need to see. I knew she’d stopped, was taking it al in, trying to make sense of what she was seeing, work out what had happened. It was real y hard to stay stil , to control my breathing as much as I needed to.
    I heard her say her brother’s name and ‘Oh my God’ a few times. Whisper it.
    She went to her brother first and touched him, his shoulder or arm. I heard her breath catch and she started to cry and, when I knew she was looking down at me, I opened my eyes.
    Bang! Like a dead man coming back to life.
    I stared straight up into her baby blues, al wet and big as saucers. She opened her mouth to scream then, sucked in a nice big breath, but my hand was on her neck quick enough to squeeze and stop it.
    By the time I was out of the bedroom the tea was cold and I didn’t take more than a bite or two of the toast. I was enjoying the thought of them getting al worked up about DNA from