Even dogs in the wild Read Online Free PDF

‘Whose is the mutt?’
    ‘Not sure. The uniforms asked around, but nobody’s missing
    a pet. Couldn’t be Cafferty’s, could it?’
    ‘Unlikely. Pets need looking after, and that’s not the man’s
    style.’ Rebus had dug his cigarettes out of his pocket. ‘Mind if I
    smoke in here?’
    ‘Yes,’ came the chorus from the front.
    The dog was still watching as the car moved off. Rebus
    feared it was about to try following them. Clarke swivelled
    around so she was facing the rear seat.
    ‘I’m fine,’ Rebus told her. ‘Thanks for asking.’
    ‘I hadn’t quite got round to it.’
    ‘No, but you were going to.’
    ‘It’s good to see you.’
    ‘Aye, you too,’ Rebus conceded. ‘Now is there any chance
    you can get Jackie Stewart here to put the foot down? There’s a
    cigarette with my name on it waiting at the other end . . .’
    *

    In his kitchen, Cafferty poured another whisky, adding a drop
    of water from the cold tap and finishing it in two swallows. He
    expelled air through his teeth and slammed the empty glass on
    to the table before running his hands down his face. The house
    was locked, all doors and windows checked. From his pocket he
    took the bullet, compressed from impact. Nine mil, just as
    Rebus had surmised. Once upon a time, Cafferty had kept a
    nine-mil pistol in the safe in his den, but he’d had to ditch it
    after having had recourse to use it. He placed the misshapen
    bullet next to the empty whisky glass, then opened a drawer and
    found what he was looking for, tucked away near the back. The
    note that had been shoved through his letter box a few days
    before. He unfolded it and examined the words again:
    I’M GOING TO KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID.
    But what had Cafferty done? He pulled out a chair, sat
    down, and began to consider.

    DAY TWO

    Four

    Next morning, Doug Maxtone gestured for Fox to follow him
    out of the cramped office into the empty corridor of St
    Leonard’s police station.
    ‘I’ve just been briefed,’ Maxtone said, ‘by our friends from
    the west.’
    ‘Anything you can share?’
    ‘We discussed their request for that “ancillary support” I
    mentioned yesterday . . .’ Maxtone broke off and waited.
    Fox tapped a finger against his own chest and watched his
    boss nod slowly.
    ‘You worked Professional Standards, Malcolm, so you know
    all about keeping your mouth shut.’ Maxtone paused. ‘But you
    also know about spying. You’re going to be myeyes and ears in there, understood? I’ll want regular updates.’ He checked his
    watch. ‘In a minute, you’re going to go knock on the door. By
    then they’ll have decided how much they need to tell you and
    how much they think they can get away with not sharing.’
    ‘I seem to remember they wanted to vet potential
    candidates.’
    Maxtone shook his head. ‘I’ve made it pretty clear you’re
    what’s on offer.’
    ‘Do they know I used to work Complaints?’

    ‘Yes.’
    ‘In which case I expect I’ll be welcomed with open arms.
    Any other advice?’
    ‘The boss is called Ricky Compston. Big wide bastard with
    a shaved head. Typical Glasgow – thinks he’s seen it all while
    we spend our days directing tourists to the castle.’ Maxtone
    paused. ‘None of the others bothered with introductions.’
    ‘But they did tell you why they’re here?’
    ‘It’s to do with a—’ Maxtone broke off as the door to the
    CID suite swung open. A face appeared, glowering.
    ‘That him?’ a voice barked. ‘When you’re ready . . .’
    The head disappeared, the door remaining ajar.
    ‘I better go say hello,’ Fox told his boss.
    ‘We’ll talk at the end of the day.’
    Fox nodded and moved off, standing in front of the door,
    giving himself a moment before pushing it all the way open.
    There were five of them, all standing, mostly with arms folded.
    ‘Shut the door then,’ the man who had originally opened it
    said. Fox reckoned this must be Compston. He had the rough
    dimensions and general