Dying Light Read Online Free PDF Page B

circular road lined with three-storey tenement blocks. They found Rosie’s address in a row of boarded-up properties with a yellow Aberdeen City Council van parked outside, the sound of power tools echoing out of the open stairwell next door. Rennie parked out front.
    ‘Right,’ said Steel, pulling a packet of cigarettes from her pocket, fingering them, and stuffing them back again, unsmoked. ‘What do we have on the next of kin?’
    ‘Two kids, no husband. According to Vice she’s currently involved with one Jamie McKinnon,’ said the family liaison officer. ‘Conflicting reports on whether he’s her boyfriend or pimp. Maybe a little of both.’
    ‘Oh aye? Wee Jamie McKinnon? Would’ve thought “toy boy” was closer to the mark; she’s got to be twice his age!’ Steel gave a big, snortingsniff, and chewed thoughtfully for a while. ‘Come on then,’ she said at last. ‘Job’s not going to do itself.’
    They left DC Rennie watching the car, trying not to look like a plainclothes police officer and failing miserably. Rosie’s flat was on the middle floor. There was a window set into the stairwell, but it was covered over with a flattened cardboard box parcel-taped into place, shrouding the hallway in gloom. The door was featureless grey with a rusty brass spyhole set into it, a faint glimmer of light shining through from the flat into the murky hall. Taking a deep breath, DI Steel knocked.
    No response.
    She tried again, harder this time, and Logan could have sworn he heard something being dragged against the other side of the door. The inspector knocked again. And the light in the spy hole went out. ‘Come on, Jamie, we know you’re in there. Let us in, eh?’
    There was a small pause, and then a high-pitched voice said, ‘Fuck off. We’re no’ wantin’ any police bastards today, thanks.’
    DI Steel squinted at the spy hole. ‘Jamie? Come on, stop buggering about. We need to talk to you about Rosie. It’s important.’
    Another pause. ‘What about her?’
    ‘Come on, Jamie, open the door.’
    ‘No. Fuck off.’
    The inspector ran a tired hand across her forehead. ‘She’s dead, Jamie. I’m sorry. Rosie’s dead.We need you to come down and identify her.’
    This time the silence stretched out far longer than before. And then the sound of something being dragged away from the door, a chain being undone, a deadbolt being drawn back, and the door being unlocked. It opened to reveal an ugly child wearing an out-of-date Aberdeen Football Club top, tatty jeans and huge sneakers, laced up gangsta-stylie. The haircut was pudding bowl on top and shaved up the sides. Behind him was a tatty dining-room chair. He couldn’t have been much more than seven.
    ‘What do you mean, “she’s dead”?’ Suspicion was written all over his blunt features.
    Steel looked down at the kid. ‘Is your daddy home?’
    The child sneered. ‘Jamie’s no’ my dad, he’s just some fuckin’ waster Mum’s shaggin’. She kicked his arse oot weeks ago. Fuck knows who my “daddy” is,’ cos Mum hasn’t got a fuckin’ clue…’ He stopped and examined the visitors on his doorstep. ‘She really dead?’
    Steel nodded. ‘I’m sorry, Son, you shouldn’t have found out like this…’
    The kid took a deep breath, bit his bottom lip, and then said, ‘Aye, well. Shit happens.’ He went to slam the door in their faces, but Steel had her foot wedged firmly against the hinges. In one of the other rooms they could hear a baby start to cry.
    The family liaison officer dropped down to thekid’s eye level and said, ‘Hello, my name’s Alison. Who’s looking after you while your mummy’s away?’
    The kid looked at her, then at Steel, and then back again. ‘How fuckin’ stupit are you? “Mummy’s” no’ away . “Mummy’s” dead.’ But the defiant edge to his voice was starting to crumble. ‘Understand you stupit cow? She’s dead!’ In the back room the baby bawled louder and the kid turned and roared a