Free The Reborn by Lin Anderson

was done, be able to fool them?
    It was an intriguing thought. Maybe even an exercise that might prove useful, for his students at least.
    He wondered if his profession had destroyed his capacity to take people, even himself, at face value. To enjoy life as it happened, rather than constantly analysing it. Then he recalled an early meeting with Rhona, where his silent study of her thoughts had proved just as erotic as her scent and physical appearance.
    In his profession, you had to be aware of what people were thinking, as opposed to what they were saying. He ran over his dialogue with Coulter in his mind. Both of them had been intent on establishing who was in charge. After that, Coulter had sought to intrigue Magnus. And he had succeeded. Showing him the Reborns had been a master stroke; seeing Coulter at work was much more powerful than simply being told about it.
    His mobile vibrated against the surface of the desk, and he closed the lid on Coulter’s musings and picked up the phone. The caller ID surprised him – it was as though by thinking about her, he had conjured Rhona up.
    ‘Rhona!’ he said, keeping his tone light.
    ‘Hi, Magnus, how are you?’
    Did she want the truth or the accepted reply?
    ‘Fine, and you?’
    ‘Busy. I thought you might like to know that Bill has been cleared of the assault charge.’
    ‘I’m very pleased to hear it.’
    She ran the details past him. ‘Internal discipline kicks in now.’
    He could sense her disquiet.
    ‘You suspect he’ll step down?’
    ‘Yes.’
    He found himself profoundly saddened by such a thought.
    ‘But that’s not why I’m calling. Sutherland wants you involved in the fairground case. I wondered if DI Slater had got in touch.’
    ‘Not yet.’
    She made a small annoyed sound in her throat.
    ‘I have been following it on the news.’
    ‘The abridged version,’ she said.
    ‘Do you want to meet up and you can tell me the rest?’
    There was a moment’s silence before she responded. ‘Can you drop by the lab?’
    ‘When?’
    ‘Tomorrow, about eleven?’
    ‘OK.’
    He rang off, happy that he would see her again, whatever the circumstances.

9
    Bill stood at his front door and imagined life inside. Margaret would be in the kitchen by now, making the evening meal. Lisa was probably upstairs in her room studying. She was working for her Advanced Highers, her sights set on becoming a doctor. If she failed to get the qualifications she needed, it would be that bastard’s fault. Bill cursed the Gravedigger under his breath for the umpteenth time.
    ‘You have to let it go,’ Margaret had told him. ‘He wants what he did to Lisa to eat at you. If you let it, he’s won.’
    When she said it, it made sense. Standing here alone, hate filling him, such a notion seemed impossible. He took out his key and slipped it in the lock as quietly as he could. He needed more time before facing Margaret.
    There was something comforting in the familiar sight and smells of the hall. Robbie’s wet sneakers had been abandoned at the bottom of the stairs. A damp jacket hung steaming on the radiator. The left hand door lay ajar, television playing to an empty sitting room.
    He went upstairs.
    As he turned on the shower, he realised Margaret would hear the water running and know he was back. The thought made him feel guilty. He should have gone through to her right away. It wasn’t as though she would castigate him for his choice. She’d stood by him in all his major decisions, knowing that none of them were made without a lot of soul-searching.
    Two brightly coloured scarves hung on the dressing table mirror. They’d been Margaret’s favourites when she’d lost her hair through the chemotherapy. He wondered why she didn’t put them in the drawer or throw them out now they were no longer necessary. Then the thought struck him that she kept them out to remind her that she’d survived.
    Survival. Margaret knew better than most people what staring death in the face