The Blood Road. Stuart MacBride

Rennie climbed out into the rain. Hurried over and fiddled with the gate. Then hurried back to the car again. ‘It’s padlocked. But there’s a car in the drive and a light’s on.’

      Great.

      Logan grimaced at the downpour, tucked the case file under his fleece, pulled on his hat and high-viz jacket, then joined Rennie in the cold and damp. Branches loomed overhead, dark and oppressive. But at least they kept some of the rain off.

      Rennie clambered over the gate and froze, arms out, shoulders hunched. ‘Arrgh… Right in a puddle.’

      Idiot.

      Logan climbed over, making sure not to step in the dirty brown lake spreading on either side of the track’s central ridge. He picked his way along the middle bit, past more trees, around a corner, and there was the house.

      A big four-by-four sat outside it, along with a filthy blue-and-white horsebox. The light above the door glowed a septic yellow.

      Not exactly welcoming.

      They were about twenty foot from the house when barking exploded into the damp air.

      Rennie froze, staring. ‘Dear God, that’s a massive dog.’

      It looked more like a bear than a dog. About the same size as a bear too, covered in thick black hair. Saggy eyes and jowls. Teeth the size of traffic cones. Well, maybe not traffic cones, but big enough. Thankfully it was shut into a kennel / run thing at the side of the house.

      Beardog launched itself at the bars of its cage and they shook with a boom and a rattle.

      Rennie gave a small tittering laugh. ‘Nice doggy. Don’t eat the lovely policemen …’ He scrambled up the steps and sheltered beneath the small porch, casting worried glances at the massive scary animal as it fell silent.

      Logan joined him. Rang the doorbell.

      Rennie flinched as the barking started up again. ‘What if she’s not in?’

      ‘Then we got wet for nothing. You should’ve phoned ahead.’

      His bottom lip popped out. ‘But you keep telling me off for doing that! They always find a way to sneak off, you said. You can’t trust them, you said.’

      ‘Yes, but I was talking about police officers, you total—’

      A woman’s silhouette appeared on the other side of the glass-panelled door, growing clearer the closer she came. Tall, with dark eyes and full lips, long brown hair falling over her shoulders. A hint of crow’s-feet and what probably weren’t laughter lines. A soft blue sweater and faded jeans. She didn’t open the door. ‘Who is…’ Her eyes widened as she looked Logan up and down. ‘Oh God. It’s… I didn’t…?’

      ‘Mrs MacAuley? Can we come in and have a word, please? It’s about your son and husband.’