Free The Reborn by Lin Anderson Page A

meant. The thought chastened him, and he dressed quickly and went downstairs.
    She was standing at the open oven, her back to him, stirring a casserole dish she’d lifted out. On the kitchen table stood a bottle of Jura and two tumblers.
    She spoke without turning. ‘Why don’t you pour us both a drink?’
    He did as requested, adding water from the cold tap. The casserole back in the oven, she turned, her face flushed by the heat.
    ‘Well?’
    He handed her a whisky. He’d already texted her the court result so that wasn’t the news she was waiting for, glass in hand.
    ‘I got a ticking off from the Super.’
    ‘That’s it?’
    He nodded. Sutherland had been brusque but kind. More than he deserved. She was waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, she said the words for him.
    ‘You didn’t resign.’
    He met her eye. ‘I didn’t resign.’
    She toasted him with her glass and he saluted her back. Even now, as the whisky warmed his chest, he wondered why she didn’t demand he leave the Force, point out that the job had endangered his family.
    She took a seat at the table. Bill was struck, looking down at the new-grown hair, how much younger it made her look, the cap of curls resembling an infant’s.
    He joined her.
    ‘What’s happening about finding Michael’s killer?’
    ‘Nothing.’
    ‘It’s time you did something about that.’
    He agreed. It was time.
    Bill had developed a way of observing his daughter that wasn’t direct. It had begun on her return from hospital and had continued since then. The mental checklist he went through each time he viewed Lisa exhausted him. It had worsened in the idle hours spent sitting at home awaiting the trial. Lisa was his first thought when he opened his eyes in the morning and the last when he closed them at night.
    That was the reason he’d decided to go back to work, even if it meant being demoted. Surely if he had a case to work on, it would stop him thinking about what had happened to his daughter. If he was at the station, he would stop watching her.
    It was Robbie who brought up the fairground case while they were at their meal, breaking the rule that what happened on the job wasn’t discussed at home. Margaret had already told them he’d been reinstated.
    ‘Does that mean you’ll be in charge of the fairground murder?’ Robbie’s tone was casual.
    ‘Why do you ask?’
    ‘I just wondered. David Murdoch’s in my year at school.’
    ‘Who’s David Murdoch?’ Lisa chimed in.
    ‘The boyfriend of the girl who died.’
    A flash of fear crossed Lisa’s face. Bill cursed his son silently for his thoughtlessness.
    ‘Is David a friend of yours?’
    ‘He’s in my maths class.’ A fairly non-committal answer.
    Margaret threw Bill a warning look.
    ‘I’m glad you’re going back, Dad.’ Lisa gave him a wan smile.
    ‘So am I,’ he said and meant it.
    The rest of the meal passed off without incident.
    Once the kids went back upstairs, Margaret asked him outright if he would be handling the investigation.
    ‘DI Slater was there to cover for me. If the court case had gone the other way . . .’
    ‘He might have been permanent?’
    ‘They would probably have brought in someone new, or promoted someone.’
    ‘DS McNab would have made a good DI.’
    ‘Yes.’ Better than Slater, he thought. The team would have worked for McNab, not the badge.
    ‘It says in the paper that the dead girl went to Morvern.’
    They had contemplated sending Lisa to the all girls’ school at one time, because of its reputation for producing doctors. Bill was glad now they hadn’t.
    ‘She’s OK, you know,’ said Margaret.
    ‘I’m not so sure.’
    She rose and started stacking the dishes. ‘We’ve got to put it behind us,’ she said sharply.
    His mobile rang before he could respond. He checked the screen. ‘I’ll take it in the hall.’
    When he left the kitchen, she replenished her glass. Margaret, the daughter of a Presbyterian minister, wasn’t a