Free In the Cold Dark Ground by Stuart MacBride Page A

can spare me two or three, can’t you?’
    Logan stared at him. ‘First: you don’t get to call my divisional officers, “Bunnets”.’
    Rennie pursed his lips. ‘Someone’s touchy the day.’
    ‘Second: my
divisional officers
will be busy policing B Division. They will
not
have time to go running about doing your legwork for you.’ Logan took a couple of steps, then poked Rennie in the chest. ‘Third: most of them have been in the job a lot longer than you, and they deserve a bit of respect. Are we clear?’
    Rennie’s bottom lip popped out. ‘Only asking.’
    He stepped closer, till they were nearly nose-to-nose. ‘Well don’t.’
    There was a snort from the corner, then Steel’s gravelly tones burst across the room. ‘For God’s sake, will you two just kiss and get it over with? Could cut the sexual tension in here with a spoon.’
    Logan stayed where he was. ‘Detective Sergeant Rennie and I were discussing resource allocation.’
    ‘Nah, you pair were about to whip out your truncheons and give each other a good seeing to. But far be it from me to stand in the way of young love: if you promise no’ to give Rennie back with his arse all covered in lovebites, you can “discuss resource allocations” to your heart’s content.’
    ‘What?’ There was a shudder, then Rennie backed away wearing his spanked child expression. ‘I only wanted a couple of bodies to help with the ID. You didn’t have to get all threatening about it. Was only—’
    Steel rapped her knuckles on the tabletop. ‘Rennie: coffee. Two and a coo.’
    ‘But, Guv, I wasn’t doing any—’
    ‘You heard: milk and two sugars. And I hear rumours someone’s got a malt loaf planked somewhere. I’ll have a slice of that too.’
    ‘But,
Gu-uv
…’
    ‘
Now
, Detective Sergeant.’
    His bottom lip got poutier. Then he turned and shuffled out of the room. Closed the door behind him.
    Steel crossed her arms and frowned at Logan. ‘Who crapped in your porridge then?’
    ‘I don’t have to—’
    ‘Having a go at poor wee Rennie. Police Scotland doesn’t approve of workplace bullying, you grumpy old sack of—’
    ‘Oh come off it, you say worse to him all the time! And—’
    ‘You were being a dick, Laz. Spoiling for a fight.’ Steel shook her head. ‘With
Rennie
. Be like kicking a puppy, then sticking it in a tumble dryer with a bucket of broken glass. Then setting fire to the tumble dryer.’
    Yeah.
    Logan sighed. Screwed his face up into a knot.
    She was right: picking on Rennie wasn’t fair. Steel’s DS might be an idiot, but it wasn’t
his
fault Logan had barely slept. Wasn’t his fault Reuben loomed over everything like a massive rabid dog.
    ‘Sorry.’ Logan ran a hand across the stubble on top of his head. ‘Been a tough week. I’ll apologize.’
    ‘Don’t care how rough it is, you don’t ruin a perfectly good tumble dryer.’ She took a puff on her e-cigarette. ‘Going to be a total nightmare to live with now. He’ll be slumping about with a face like a cat’s bum, all martyred and woe-is-me.’
    ‘I’ll talk to him.’ Logan looked away. Outside, the violet sky was fringed with pre-dawn blue and pink. The lights of Macduff twinkled on the other side of the bay. ‘We’re switching Samantha off tomorrow. Life support.’
    A sigh. Then Steel took hold of his arm and squeezed. ‘You going to be OK?’
    ‘Yeah. Course.’ He frowned. ‘Don’t know.’ Then let out a long, slow breath. ‘Anyway, suppose I’d better…’ He nodded at the door. ‘Got to go brief the team.’
    ‘…so make sure you keep your eyes open, OK?’ Logan settled back against the windowsill and rested his mug of tea on a stack of case files.
    The Constables’ Office wasn’t a large room. Old-fashioned with worktop desks on two walls, covered in paperwork and four ancient grey computers. Four office chairs, most of which looked on the verge of collapse – the foam rubber stuck out of one as if it had prolapsed. Three