Close to the Bone by Stuart MacBride Page A

my desk by lunchtime, no’ next sodding— ’
    ‘We know who killed the necklacing victim.’
    Pause. ‘ You do? ’
    One of the uniformed officers checked the ward signs, then marched off to the left. Chalmers hurried after him, Logan and Mr Too-Many-Pies bringing up the rear.
    ‘Guy Ferguson. He was in on the jewellery heist. Victim was probably one of his gang. He’s in ARI right now: we’re on our way.’
    ‘ Buggering hell. . . It’s only been a day and a half, and I’ve already solved the thing. Keep telling everyone I’m a genius. ’
    ‘ You’ve already solved? ’ Logan barged through a set of double doors into another stretch of sickly green. ‘You’re as bad as bloody Chalmers.’
    ‘ My intrepid leadership is what did it. I’m no’ saying you didn’t play your own small part— ’
    ‘Do I get any sodding credit at all? ’
    Up ahead, Chalmers and the other uniform were shouldering their way into a ward.
    ‘ Laz, you’re big enough and ugly enough to know how this works: credit, like a happy wee party balloon, floats up the way. Blame, like jobbies, falls down. ’ Rustling came from the other end of the phone. ‘ Now, be a good boy and keep an eye on my party balloon while I hurry over there to collect it. ’
    Aye, right.
    Logan held the phone out at arm’s length, then made a harsh hissing noise. ‘. . .ant hear what . . . signal . . . hello? Hello? ’
    ‘ Don’t you sodding dare, Logan McRae, or I’ll ram my boot so far up— ’
    ‘Isn’t. . . Hello? ’ He hung up.
    Darth Vader’s theme tune burst out of the phone’s speaker, the word ‘S TEEL ’ flashing on the screen. He switched it off and jammed it back in his pocket. Served her right. He nodded to PC Pies. ‘OK, we’ll—’
    The ward door banged open and three young men scrambled out, white trainers squeaking on the cracked terrazzo floor. They weren’t wearing identical tracksuits, but it wasn’t far off it, the tops pulled on over hoodies and baseball caps. One slammed into the wall, twisted round a couple of times, then sprinted straight towards Logan.
    More squeaking as he scrabbled to a halt, eyes wide, staring at the huge constable. ‘Shite!’ And he was off again – accelerating the other way, following his mates.
    Constable Pies lumbered into a run, giving chase.
    Logan shoved open the ward door. The other uniform was feeling his way along the wall, one hand clutched tightly over his groin, sweat running down his pale face.
    Chalmers appeared behind him, the front of her suit spattered with something brown.
    Logan jabbed a finger at the PC. ‘You: get back there and secure the prisoner.’ Then glared at Chalmers. ‘Don’t just stand there dripping, get after them!’
    The trail of destruction wasn’t that hard to follow – overturned carts, little old men shaking their walking sticks and bellowing obscenities, little old ladies shouting far worse.
    Off in the distance, a pair of double doors boomed against the walls. More swearing.
    DS Chalmers stuck her elbows out and her chin in, sprinting after them.
    Logan skipped to a halt, then turned and charged through into the stairwell again, taking the steps two and three at a time before bursting out on the lower level. Where it was nice and quiet.
    There were only two ways out of Aberdeen Royal Infirmary from here: double back towards the exit onto the side road opposite the auditorium, or keep going and out past Nuclear Medicine. Unless they just popped out through a fire door. . .
    Too late to worry about that now.
    He hurtled along the deserted corridor, passing empty beds and wheelchairs. An abandoned lunch pod.
    An intern flattened himself against the wall, clutching a huge brown X-ray envelope to his chest, as Logan sprinted past.
    Up the stairs at the end, heart pounding in his ears. Through the doors at the top and— PREGNANT LADY, PREGNANT LADY!
    Logan’s shoes skidded on the patchwork of flooring and duct tape, stopping him just short of a