Free Kill Me Twice: Rosie Gilmour 7 by Anna Smith Page A

a lot more to this. It’s . . . It’s just . . . Aw, man, I don’t know what to say now in case you go running to the fucking papers.’
    ‘Maybe it’s you who should go to the papers, Dan. Go to the cops, if you’re scared. Tell them why.’ He paused. ‘Why are you scared, anyway?’
    Dan shook his head and flicked his cigarette away. The last time he and Bella had met, she’d picked him up in a taxi and taken him to the hotel she was staying at, made him have a shower and given him a new set of clothes, including the new jacket that some other homeless fucker was now wearing. Then she’d made him eat some soup. He remembered her crying as he was leaving, hugging him close. He could still smell her perfume, feel the softness of her hair on his cheek. They’d talked for hours and she’d told him everything. It was the first timethey had ever spoken about the abuse that had happened when they were children, the nights when they were taken away, the strangers who came in and took them from their beds. Not just them, but others too. Bella had said she couldn’t cope with it any more, that she had been taking cocaine to get through her demanding work schedule, but also, because she was crying for days on end. They’d talked about going to the police then. And look what had happened.
    ‘I can’t tell you. I can’t talk about it. Just leave it.’
    ‘Why don’t you at least meet the reporter? She’s quite a nice bird.’
    ‘You’ve fucking met her?’
    ‘Aye. I’m sorry. I was trying to help.’
    ‘Yeah, Mitch. Trying to get some fucking money out of her. Don’t try to hump me, man. You’re supposed to be my mate. I thought you were my friend. You . . . You’re all I’ve got.’
    Dan put his head into his hands. He jerked away when Mitch’s arm went round his shoulders, but Mitch persisted. Eventually he turned and sobbed into his chest.
    ‘Come on, man. I’m sorry. I am your friend. But listen, something’s wrong. I can feel it. Something’s wrong inside your head.’
    ‘I’m scared, Mitch. I just want to die so I can be with Bella.’
    ‘No,you don’t, mate. I won’t let you die. I’ll look after you. I promise.’
    They sat hugging each other, and Mitch gently stroked the back of Dan’s head, as the midday sun warmed the chilly Glasgow morning, filling it with promise.

Chapter Eight
    Rosie stoodby McGuire’s desk along with Bob, the picture editor, all three of them watching his screen, eagerly waiting for the pictures to drop. José, the concierge in Madrid, had proved to be a belter of a contact, going about his task like a detective, picking up any information at the Hotel Senator that he thought would be useful to her. The four hundred euro the editor’s office had arranged to wire him was no doubt the driving force, but Rosie was more than impressed by his enthusiasm. He’d called her this morning to say his friend on the night shift had gone through the spare copy of the CCTV and found pictures of the two men he’d described to her, who had arrived at the party that night. One had given Bella a wrap of what he believed to be cocaine.
    The pictures dropped onto the screen one by one. First, the muscled guy with the bleached-blond hair, then his squat mate with the brick-shithouse frame. A third opened, andRosie’s eyes popped. It wasn’t the greatest shot in terms of clarity, but Bella Mason, in her blue gown, was clearly identifiable, and it looked as though she was being handed something.
    ‘Can you pull that up, Bob?’ Mick said. ‘Make it less grainy?’
    ‘I should be able to enhance it a bit. The more we home in on it, the less clear it is, but the geeks downstairs understand these things. I’ll see what we can do.’
    ‘Are these two gorillas the blokes he was talking about, who turned up and weren’t on the guest list?’
    The editor was addressing Rosie, but didn’t take his eyes off the screen as Bob zoomed in on the faces.
    ‘Yep. That’s how he described