Page 6 of Between the Lies

Apparently, all pretences of being careful were gone.

The woman was now dragging the second suitcase out of the lift, her baby in the pram fussing for attention.

Pratt knocked a passenger to the floor in his haste to get to Nina. Shah was closing in; she could hear each smack of his footsteps.

This was it. Pratt and Shah were turning heads. Nina’s legs moved, her survival instincts kicking in. She dodged a few tourists, jumped over a few bags someone had left piled on the floor… And then the child in the pram let out a loud wail, one its mother couldn’t ignore. Suitcases forgotten, the woman turned to her bairn.

The lift’s doors started to shut.

Nina leaped over the woman’s discarded suitcases straight into the lift. It groaned under her graceless landing, and the doors that had been closing began to open once again. Pratt inched closer, just an arm’s length to the lift.

Nina grabbed the woman’s suitcase – ‘Sorry, lady!’ – and sent it rolling Pratt’s way. He saw the wee thing too late, and although he stuck out a leg to kick the suitcase, he stumbled over it instead. The woman turned to see him grabbing at her suitcase and shouted, ‘Thief! He’s stealing my bags!’ Her bairn let out another wail.

More eyes switched to the scene. People gathered around, wanting to help a woman with a child whose bags were being stolen.

Nina plastered herself to the back of the lift, hoping Shah hadn’t seen her rush inside. These lifts didn’t have a close-doors button!

Thanks to the woman, the area in front of the lifts was now crowding up with people, each enquiring after the crying baby and its mother.

Then she saw him, stuck behind a mob of older tourists. Shah’s dark gaze met Nina’s just as the lift doors started to close. She couldn’t see Pratt, but Shah still stood there, vengeance in his eyes.

I will find you,his gaze promised.

But for now,the lift doors shut.

Mumbai would have to wait. Nina had grander plans for Glasgow first.

CHAPTERTHREE

‘An accident?’

The man sitting in front of PC Robert Muller bobbed his head. His expression was so neutral Robert fought the urge to grab a hold of his shoulders and shake him.

Instead, Robert wrapped his hands around the chair. ‘My wife was killed.’

Still, the man – DCI Seamus Dickinson or, as Robert and the rest of their colleagues called him, Dickheadson – just sat there. People displayed more emotion when talking about tap water. ‘The best of my team worked the case, Constable Muller. Forensic evidence suggested the fire was caused by a gas leak. An accident.’

Robert wanted to hurl himself at the man. Dickheadson’s pudgy body was no match for his own muscled physique. Anne had appreciated his workouts, and after what the last two years had been for him, working out until he passed out was the only solution to his insomnia and heartache.

‘It’s been two months. It’s too early?—’

Dickheadson shook his head once. ‘Two and a half. And it was a horrifying fire. As unsatisfactory as the answer might be, there is no one to punish. Now, Constable, you can leave.’

Constable? Dickheadson seriously thought now was the time to pull rank?

Robert pushed himself off the chair. If he further tightened his grip on it, he’d crush the damn thing. ‘With all due respect?—’

‘I’ve been behind this desk long enough to know when someone starts with those words, they are lying. I have work to do.’

‘Sir, my wife wasmurdered.’

Dickheadson smacked his palms on the desk in front of him, sending his teacup rattling in its saucer. ‘I’ve had it with you, Muller. You do realise you’re a police constable? The lowest in the pecking order. I had my best inspectors on the case. The entire team has more experience than you and the best records in Police Scotland. Just because you can access this office doesn’t mean you can waltz in here and demand answers. I’ve told you what I’m sure the family liaison officer and the senior investigating officer have already informed you.’

The family liaison officer. Yes, right, that butt joke of a cop who was barely out of her six weeks at police school. And what family was she liaising with? Anne’d had no one but him, just like he’d had no one but her.

Robert took a breath to rein in his emotions. He was all over the place – from tears threatening to leak to his blood craving a sparring match with Dickheadson.

‘Your inspectors might have a great case record, sir, but I know my wife. There was no way she’d have been in that building.’

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