Dark Blood. Stuart MacBride

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not contact any other registered sex offender.’

      Knox gave a theatrical sigh. ‘You know, the power of God can change a man. There’s no sinner so desperate that he cannot be redeemed.’

      DI Steel laughed, thumbs jabbing away at the keypad on her mobile phone. ‘Aye, right.’

      ‘You will not consume alcohol outside of your place of residence.’

      ‘Pffffff… I’m surprised you got that one past a judge.’

      ‘You will not accost any member of the public—’

      Frown. ‘What?’

      Danby’s voice rumbled out from the corner. ‘It means if you’re alone with anyone, and you make them feel uncomfortable, we can lock you up for five years.’

      ‘That’s not fair! I can’t control if someone feels uncomfortable, can I?’ Knox waved a hand at him. ‘Anyway, what about confession? Have to be alone with me priest, don’t I?’

      Danby scowled. ‘You’re a Protestant, you don’t have confession.’

      ‘Well … what about the people watching us then? Me keepers?’

      PC Hamster fiddled with her glasses. ‘You don’t have to worry about that, Richard, there’s going to be two of them at all times. We’ve got a specialist team from Sacro who’re going to keep an eye on things. You’ll be fine.’

      ‘You will not drive any vehicle without a member of your supervisory team present.’

      Knox shrugged and collapsed backwards until he was lying down, staring at the ceiling, his legs dangling over the side of the bed. The mattress creaked.

      ‘When I was little, I remember hearing them in here. Granny Murray and Grandad Joe. They must have been in their sixties or seventies, but they still did it every Friday night, regular as clockwork. You could hear the squeak of the springs from me room…’

      He swung his legs, making the mattress groan in time to the motions.

      ‘The pair of them going at it in here while I was in the next room. Don’t think she really enjoyed it like, but it was her duty, you know? Keep the old man’s urges satisfied.’

      ‘Right.’ DI Steel pushed herself away from the wall and slipped her mobile back in her pocket. ‘I’ve had enough of Creepy Sod Theatre for one morning. We done here?’

      Logan checked. ‘Two more: you shall not visit any gay bars, clubs, or associations. And you will not obstruct the efforts of any supervising agency. That’s the lot. Do you understand these restrictions?’

      The weedy little man flopped an arm over his eyes. ‘I suppose.’

      Logan passed the paperwork back to Danby. ‘You want a lift back to the station?’

      ‘What?’ Knox sat up. ‘You’re not leaving us, are you Graeme? You were right quiet on the plane. I was hoping you’d join us for dinner: you know, get a nice curry and some poppadoms? We can catch up a bit, like. Reminisce about the good old days. You, me, and Billy Adams…’

      Danby stiffened, then turned to look out of the bedroom window. ‘A lift would be good.’

      ‘So,’ Steel cracked open the passenger window and flicked a disk of chewed gum at a passing taxi, ‘you want to tell us why a detective superintendent traipses halfway up the country to babysit a manky wee rapist like Richard Knox?’

      Danby shrugged, his huge shoulders going up and down as he stared at the passing scenery. ‘Maybe I just fancied a jolly to Aberdeen.’

      ‘Aye, and maybe my arse is made of Toblerone.’

      Sitting in the back with the DSI, Logan tried not to picture that.

      They’d let PC Guthrie drive. He joined the queue of traffic waiting to turn left onto Westburn Road, juddering to a halt inches from the back end of a bendy bus.

      A park ran along the side of the road, complete with pond and bored-looking ducks, the dark scribble of bare trees. Other than that, the place was nearly empty, just a mother and her small child hauling a yapping terrier across the wide expanse of browny-green.

      Danby sniffed. ‘Can’t believe you’ve got no snow. We were up to our ears in Newcastle this morning.’

      ‘OK, let’s try this another way, shall we?’ Steel produced a packet of nicotine gum and popped a white pellet out of its foil blister. Chewing with her mouth open. ‘Who’s Billy Adams?’

      ‘It’s not important.’

      ‘Sounded important.’

      Danby’s face hardened. ‘Drop it, you know what I’m saying?’

      ‘That an order, sir?’

      ‘Call it a request.’ He turned to Logan. ‘These Sacroid people, they up to keeping an eye on Knox?’

      ‘Sacro: Safeguarding Communities – Reducing Offending. It’s a charity, biggest provider of supported accommodation for offenders in Scotland, got teams of volunteers watching people like Knox all over the country. Well, maybe not exactly like Knox, but yeah, they’re up to it.’

      Steel rolled her window back up. ‘You know, I’m going to find out eventually, so you might as well spill the beans.’

      Silence.

      ‘See, I’m what you’d call a tenacious wee sod.’

      More silence.

      ‘Seriously, I can be a right pain in the arse when I put my mind to—’

      ‘That’s enough Inspector. You do your job and I’ll do mine, know what I’m saying?’

      And this time the silence lasted all the way back to the station.

      ‘I love a good mystery.’ DI Steel sat behind her desk, one hand stuffed down the front of her shirt, rearranging the contents of her bra. ‘God gave me a nose for a reason – so I could stick it in other people’s business. Who do you think this “Billy Adams” is?’

      Logan shrugged and dumped the plastic bag from Marks & Spencer on the inspector’s desk. ‘They didn’t have any of the big ones left.’ He cleared a space between the burglary reports and trial-preparation documents, then pulled out two little boxes of sushi, a packet of cheese and onion, and a bottle of Diet Coke.

      Steel popped open the crisps, stuffed a handful into her mouth, then followed it up with a California roll. ‘Maybe he’s Danby’s boyfriend?’

      Logan dug into the bag again: prawn salad and a sparkling mineral water.

      Steel scowled at him. ‘Salad? Jesus, all this time and I never knew you were turning into a shirtlifter. Still,’ a smile spread across her face, ‘if that means your tasty IB tart’s up for a bit of extracurricular…?’

      ‘I’m

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