Bone Machine Read Online Free PDF Page A

a professional doing her job but as someone
     with a personal stake in finding Ashley’s killer. The approach, whether inadvertent or not, worked. She attempted to field
     some questions but Fenton jumped in to answer them. Nattrass seemed relieved to have the spotlight deflected away from her.
    Donovan didn’t envy her the job ahead.
    Then another journalist, asking if this killing was linked in any way to a girl’s body found two months previously at Barras
     Bridge in Newcastle. Fenton looked momentarily aggrieved by the question before giving a stoic, noncommittal answer, refusing
     to link speculation. More flashbulbs.
    Donovan remembered that girl. It had been all over the media in the run-up to Christmas. What was her name? … Lisa Hill. Early
     twenties, worked in a pub in Byker. Knifed to death. The papers made her out to be a part-timeprostitute and put her death down to an angry customer. No one was ever caught or tried for the crime. Her death wasn’t given
     a high priority. Some commentators even said she had asked for it; that was the game she was in and she knew the rules.
    He heard the toilet flush, the bathroom door open and close. He looked up. Katya was standing at the top of the stairs. Pulling
     her pyjamas around her, she seemed unsure whether to come down, go back to bed or just stand there.
    He smiled, sat up.
    ‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Coffee?’
    She said nothing. As if unsure what answer he wanted. She reminded Donovan of an animal, skittish, taking a treat but expecting
     pain.
    ‘Or tea?’ he said as cheerfully as he could manage. ‘You’re in luck. I’ve got both.’
    She nodded.
    ‘Come on down, then,’ Donovan said. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
    One wary step at a time, Katya made her way down the stairs, arms still tightly wrapped around herself, until she was standing
     by the sofa. Donovan put his coffee down, flicked off the TV, got to his feet. He was wearing his usual sleeping combination
     of T-shirt and boxers. He reached for his long black hooded dressing gown that was draped over the back of the sofa, began
     to put it on. He didn’t want to scare his guest.
    Katya’s eyes roved all around the room, wide, fearful. Still trying to take in her surroundings, Donovan thought. Not wanting
     to believe her luck, wary of the catch. Understandable, considering what she had been through. He would have to treat her
     gently. Put her at her ease.
    ‘The boy is still in bed.’ She spoke as if she expected a sudden attack.
    ‘Jamal,’ said Donovan as unthreateningly as possible. ‘His lordship won’t rise for a few hours yet.’ He stretched, yawned,
     his dressing gown hanging open.
    Katya nodded. ‘What is that?’ she said, pointing to his chest. ‘Does it mean something?’
    ‘What?’ said Donovan looking down.
    ‘That symbol. On your chest.’
    ‘Oh, that.’ He smiled. ‘Green Lantern. It’s the symbol from his costume.’
    She looked at him blankly.
    ‘Superhero. Justice League.’ He smiled weakly.
    Another blank look.
    ‘Comic books? Y’know, “Through brightest day, through darkest night, no evil shall escape my sight”? That kind of thing.’
     He found himself gesturing. Slow down, he thought. Stop trying too hard.
    ‘American superhero? Cartoons?’
    ‘That’s him.’
    ‘You seem a little … old. For that.’
    Donovan blushed. ‘For superheroes? Nah. I’m only thirty five. Anyway, they deal in moral absolutes. Right and wrong. Never
     too old for that.’
    ‘You make it sound so simple.’
    Donovan shrugged. ‘If only. Now, tea or coffee?’
    ‘I … do not mind.’
    ‘Coffee it is, then.’ Donovan went into the kitchen to put the kettle on.
    Katya moved over to the sofa, sat down. Her eyes were still darting over every surface, around every corner, looking for dangers
     real or imagined, clues that her rescuers were not what they seemed. Looking ready to run.
    Donovan couldn’t blame her. He would have felt the same in her situation. And