Read Logan McRae Series Bundle (1,2,3,) for Free Online Page B

little grains of sugar from the cola bottles. ‘David Reid’s body would’ve been washed right out into the North Sea. Next stop Norway. We’d never have found it.’
    Logan tapped the post mortem report against his teeth, his eyes focused on a spot just above DI Insch’s bald head. ‘Maybe it’s too much of a coincidence?’ he said, frowning. ‘David Reid’s been lying there for three months, but if no one finds him before the river bursts its banks, he’s never going to be found.’ His eyes drifted back to the inspector. ‘He gets swept out to sea and the story never hits the papers. No publicity. The killer can’t read about his achievements. There’s no feedback.’
    Insch nodded. ‘Good thinking. Get someone to drag the finder. . .’ He checked his notes. ‘Mr Duncan Nicholson. Get him in here and give him a proper grilling, not the half-arsed one he got last night. If the man’s got any skeletons in his closet I want to know about them.’
    ‘I’ll get an area car to—’ was as far as Logan got before the door to the incident room burst open and a breathless PC screeched to a halt.
    ‘Sir,’ he said. ‘Another kid’s gone missing.’

6
    Richard Erskine’s mother was overweight, overwrought and not much more than a child herself. The lounge of her middle terrace house in Torry was packed with photos in little wooden frames, all showing the same thing: a grinning Richard Erskine. Five years old. Blond hair, squint teeth, dimpled cheeks, big glasses. The child’s life was mapped out in the claustrophobic room, from birth right through to. . . Logan stopped that thought before it could go any further.
    The mother’s name was Elisabeth: twenty-one, pretty enough if you ignored the swollen eyes, streaked mascara and bright red nose. Her long black hair was scraped back from her round face and she paced the room with frantic energy, eating her fingernails until the quicks bled.
    ‘He’s got him, hasn’t he?’ she was saying, over and over again, her voice shrill and panicky. ‘He’s got Richie! He’s got him and he’s killed him!’
    Logan shook his head. ‘Now we don’t know that. Your son might just have forgotten the time.’ He scanned the photograph-laden walls again, trying to find one in which the child looked genuinely happy. ‘How long has he been missing?’
    She stopped pacing and stared at him. ‘Three hours! I already told her that!’ She flapped a chewed hand in WPC Watson’s direction. ‘He knows I worry about him! He wouldn’t be late! He wouldn’t.’ Her bottom lip trembled and tears started to well up in her eyes again. ‘Why aren’t you out there finding him?’
    ‘We’ve got patrol cars and officers out there right now looking for your son, Mrs Erskine. Now I need you to tell me what happened this morning. When he went missing?’
    Mrs Erskine wiped her eyes and nose on the back of her sleeve. ‘He was supposed . . . supposed to come straight back from the shops. Some milk and a packet of chocolate biscuits. . . He was supposed to come straight back!’
    She started to cross the lounge again, back and forth, back and forth.
    ‘Which shops did he go to?’
    ‘The ones on the other side of the school. It’s not far! I don’t normally let him go on his own, but I had to stay in!’ She sniffed. ‘The man was coming to fix the washing machine. They wouldn’t give me a time! Just some time in the morning. I never would have let him out on his own otherwise!’ She bit down on her lip and the sobbing intensified. ‘It’s all my fault!’
    ‘Have you got a friend or a neighbour who could stay with. . .’
    Watson pointed at the kitchen. A used-looking older woman emerged carrying a tray of tea things: two mugs only. The police weren’t expected to stay for tea, they were expected to get out there and start looking for the missing five-year-old.
    ‘It’s a disgrace, so it is,’ said the older woman, putting the tea tray down on top of a pile