All the Devils

by Neil Broadfoot

  And was that, ultimately, what she wanted? She loved him, but was she – were they, she thought, the sudden realisation that she was no longer a single entity giving her gut another bilious squeeze – better off without him? Would a baby make him a better man, or merely deepen the problems he had with his drinking and secrecy and the obsessive streak that drove him on in pursuit of the next exclusive?

  He wasn’t a bad man, but she was realistic enough to know he was a flawed one. And brittle after everything that had happened. And now there was this. She remembered the night it happened; they had been out, come back here and, in their semi-drunken fumbling, got lost enough not to bother with a condom. She thought back, remembering the sensation of him coming inside her, the terror and sudden panic swept away by the crashing waves of her orgasm. It seemed so long ago now.

  She picked up the test again, her hand shaking slightly. She felt the tears slide down her face as she focused on the window and that one, simple word: Pregnant. She rubbed at it gently with her thumb, again stunned by the enormity of it and what it meant. A new life. A new start.

  Maybe.

  She wiped away her tears, straightened her back and headed for the living room. Picked up the phone and scrolled to the selfie they had taken in St Andrews, her leaning into him, both of them smiling at the camera. What, she thought, would their child look like? Would they have his nose, her eyes? Would he – or she – have Doug’s unruly hair and crooked smile, or her dimples and chin? What else would he or she get from them? She found herself excited and terrified by the thought. So many possibilities. So many questions.

  And all of them would be answered.

  In time.

  Acknowledgements

  They say writing is a lonely occupation but, if you’re lucky, you never write a book alone: there are always friendly faces waiting when you pull your head from the glare of the screen. To Bob McDevitt, Sara, Craig, Laura and everyone at Contraband, Douglas Skelton, James Oswald, Craig Russell, everyone at the scene of the crime and, of course, Alasdair Sim and Elaine Cropley, thanks for keeping me company on the journey.

  Special thanks to Michael Nicholson for the technical pointers and the patient answering of my incessant questions about laptops and security – I owe you a fine death, sir, and I promise to deliver.

  And, lastly, to my wife, Fiona, who kept me on the path and kept me going, every step of the way. You and the kids are the only company I ever need.

  Love you, B. Always.

  About the author

  Neil Broadfoot’s high-octane debut, Falling Fast, introduced readers to the world of Edinburgh-based investigative journalist Doug McGregor and DS Susie Drummond. Widely praised by critics, crime fiction authors and readers alike, it was shortlisted for both the Dundee International Prize and the prestigious Deanston Scottish Crime Book of the Year Award, immediately establishing Neil as a fixture on the Tartan Noir scene.

  Before writing fiction, Neil worked as a journalist for fifteen years at national and local newspapers, covering some of the biggest stories of the day. A poacher turned gamekeeper, Neil moved into communications, providing media relations advice for a variety of organisations, from public bodies and government to a range of private clients.

  Neil is married to Fiona and has two daughters. An adopted Fifer, he lives in Dunfermline, where he started his career as a local reporter.

  Copyright

  Contraband is an imprint of Saraband

  Published by Saraband

  Suite 202, 98 Woodlands Road,

  Glasgow, G3 6HB, Scotland

  www.saraband.net

  Copyright © Neil Broadfoot 2016

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be

  reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without first obtaining the written

  permission of the copyright owner.

  ISBN: 9781910192535

  ebook: 9781910192542

  All characters appearing in this novel are fictitious.

  Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead,

  is purely coincidental.