Chapter 2
TUESDAY
Detective Chief Inspector Liam Brodie had just turned into his street, lathered in sweat, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He hadn’t run like this in a long time, but he had decided to stave off the inevitable hardening of the arteries and possibly an impending heart attack.
He had started using the treadmill in his flat, previously used for hanging clothes on, but after a dust down and a quick read of the instruction manual again, he had tentatively stepped on board and hoped it didn’t break.
Once he’d mastered the treadmill, he’d started running in the streets around his flat at Newhaven, the Firth of Forth begging him to come in for a dip when he was sweating buckets.
He had decided to ignore the invitation for a personal tour of Davy Jones’s locker, and had kept his head down, feeling the pavement fighting back against every step.
Now that summer was officially here, the sun was up well before him. As he turned onto his street and slowed down, he could feel the pain in his knees from the jarring they got with every step.
He looked at his watch as he felt the buzzing on his wrist. His boss’s name appeared on the small screen, which jostled for place with the heart monitor – both with the potential for bad news.
‘Boss.’
Detective Superintendent Robb Cross. ‘Liam. Not disturbing anything, am I? You sound out of breath. If you’re with Ruth, I can call back. Say, two minutes?’
‘Just out jogging. And if I were with Ruth, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation.’
‘I’m glad to hear you’re taking your fitness seriously. You don’t want to die in bed after a particularly invigorating lovemaking session, do you? Now, that’s how I dream of going… when I’m eighty, with my thirty-year-old bride standing weeping by my bedside.’
‘You’re a long way from eighty, sir.’
‘A man can dream. But anyway, remember how much “fun” you had in Fife working that case a couple of weeks ago?’
‘How could I forget?’
‘They need you again. Control woke me up, and I can’t say I’m not disappointed I didn’t wake you up.’
‘Such is life. Where am I going?’
‘Kirkcaldy. DCI Alan McRae is still missing. You’ll meet up with DI Art McKenzie again. I’ll text you the details. And make sure you drive over there and don’t run. You’ll get there quicker.’
Cross cut the call, and Brodie ran the distance to the front door of the luxury flats he and Ruth lived in.
Upstairs, Ruth was showered and had coffee going.
‘Well, if it isn’t Rocky,’ she said, smiling.
‘I beat a tram this morning, I’ll have you know.’
‘Was it stopped?’
‘Pulling away from the stop, but I had a good six feet on it. Then I let it win.’
Ruth laughed. ‘I’m proud of you. I remember not so long ago when you wouldn’t have been out of bed this early on Tuesday morning after a few pints on a Monday night.’
‘I’m glad I stopped drinking on a Monday, to be honest.’
Brodie didn’t tell her he missed the sessions in Leith, but his friend had died, and it seemed pointless after that.
‘Go and get showered and I’ll have some scrambled eggs ready.’
‘Thanks. But I got a call from Rob; I’m needed in Fife again.’
‘So soon?’ Ruth said.
Brodie nodded. ‘There’s still no sign of McRae.’
‘Just be careful,’ she said, and turned back to the kitchen.
‘I always am,’ he said.
‘I know you are. But just be extra careful. There are a lot of bad people out there. Normal people avoid them, but you have to go looking for them.’
He didn’t have an answer for that.