by JD Kirk
“Holding grudges. Life being too short,” Logan said. “I’m, eh, I’m going to phone Maddie. She might not talk to me, but I’ll leave a message. Just, you know, congratulations. Hope she’s happy. That sort of thing.”
“Building bridges.”
“Aye,” Logan said. “Building bridges.”
The car slowed as they approached the venue. Harris waved excitedly, now fully dressed and with the unrulier parts of his hair stuck flat to his head with a combination of gel, hairspray, and his auntie’s saliva.
“Here we go, then,” Sinead breathed.
“Here we go.”
The car stopped outside the centre.
“Right, wait there, I’ll let you out,” Logan said, opening his door.
“By the way,” Sinead said, stopping him in his tracks. “You do know you have to dance tonight, right? It’s traditional.”
“Me? Dance?” Logan asked. Then, he grinned, winked, and threw open the door. “Just you try and bloody stop me!”
Epilogue
Olivia Maximuke woke late, made some disparaging comments at the sun that shone in through her too-thin curtains, then peeled her eyelids all the way open with the assistance of one of her thumbs.
She’d been on the phone dealing with ‘work stuff’ until after two, then had lain there on her bed until sleep had finally turned up to claim her just before six.
The four hours in between had been spent alternately scrolling the internet on her phone, stressing out, and holding her breath every time a car passed on the street outside.
Some digging over the past few days had brought up a few small mentions in local newspapers about the body found in the freezer a couple of months back.
Body.
Singular, where it should have been plural.
It was being put down as another victim of the Iceman. Which it was, she knew. She had no involvement in that man’s murder. She was blameless. She was in no way responsible for his prolonged, agonising death.
Not directly, anyway.
But there should have been a second body in there with him. One that she would have been responsible for.
One who knew exactly what she’d done to him.
Or, what she’d tried to do, and failed.
She heard the front door close, and was out of bed in a flash. Edging aside the curtain, she looked down at the path and saw the top of her mum’s head as she set off on another jog. Father Conrad was waiting out on the street, knees pumping up and down as he ran on the spot.
They exchanged high-fives by the gate, then both set off down the street, and were almost immediately hidden by the trees of the garden next door.
“Crazy,” Olivia remarked, still not quite able to get her head around her mother’s change of lifestyle.
She approved, of course. Her mum was out of the house more often—she’d even started spin classes, the thought of which had made Olivia laugh so hard she’d been left gasping for air—but she was far more fun when she was around than she used to be. She made breakfast on school days, and was always around for dinner. The chances of her drinking herself into an early grave had fallen sharply, too.
And it was nice to see her happy. She was still relying on a man to provide it, which was not unusual for her, but Father Conrad seemed like a good guy, despite the Jesus stuff. He didn’t seem to be after anything, which was rare.
Olivia steeled herself, pulled the curtains all the way apart, then rapid-fired her eyelids as she tried to adjust to the sudden blinding brightness.
Once the worst of it had passed, she turned from the window to find some clothes to put on.
And that was when she saw it.
The note.
It was on her bedside table—a single sheet of paper folded in half and stood upright like a tent.
A word was written on it, the letters formed shakily, as if by an unsteady hand: ‘Malyshka.’
She ran to the bedroom door and hauled her chest of drawers in front of it, blocking entry to anyone who might try to get inside.
Only then did she turn back to the folded tent of paper.
Only then did she pick it up, ease it open, read the one-word message scrawled haphazardly inside.
‘Soon,’ it read.
Soon.
DCI Logan Returns in…
An Isolated Incident
Psst! Want Access to Logan’s Wedding Speech?
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BOOKS BY J.D. KIRK
A Litter of Bones
Thicker Than Water
The Killing Code
Blood & Treachery
The Last Bloody Straw
A Whisper of Sorrows
The Big Man Upstairs
A Death Most Monumental
A Snowball’s Chance in Hell
Ahead of the Game
An Isolated Incident
WRITING AS BARRY J. HUTCHISON
Space Team
Dan Deadman: Space Detective
The Sidekicks Initiative