Blood Red Roses by Lin Anderson Read Free Book Online

Sir Geoffrey with his lawyer present.
    Rhona spent the morning putting the Bacardi bottle back together. Concentrating on that stopped her thinking about what had happened the night before. When the phone rang, Rhona let Chrissy answer.
    Chrissy covered the mouthpiece. ‘There’s a guy in reception. Insists on seeing you.’
    â€˜Who?’ Rhona mouthed.
    Chrissy checked. ‘Sean?’
    Rhona shook her head and then thought better of it. She would have to face Sean sometime and it might as well be now.
    â€˜Tell him I’ll be straight down.’
    It was the first time she’d seen Sean agitated. Normally he was relaxed and easy. When sheappeared he looked over, relieved.
    She headed for the door without speaking and he followed. She walked quickly past the guard on the gate and down the hill towards the park, her breath condensing in the cold November air. When she reached the bridge she stopped. Below, an autumnal mist clung to the River Kelvin.
    He stood close, sharing her view of the muddy swirling water.
    â€˜What’s wrong?’
    She shrugged, unable to look him in the face. ‘It’s nothing to do with you. It’s work.’
    He lifted his hand and stroked her cheek. A shiver of longing ran down her spine and anchored itself deep in her groin.
    â€˜You can’t work all the time.’
    She laughed. The sound was harsh and unforgiving in her ears.
    â€˜Rhona. Look at me.’
    His eyes drew hers. Powerless to stop herself, she looked into their blue depths. She hardly knew this man and yet she had let him enter her body, possess her, at least for a short time. What was he really like? How much of herself could she entrust to him?
    â€˜Tell me when I can see you.’
    â€˜Tonight.’ She gave in to desire. ‘Come round tonight.’
    His finger traced her cheek, her lips, her neck. He didn’t kiss her, though he knew she wanted him to.
    She watched as he headed for the Art Gallery; the tall dark-haired figure confident now. She felt like a tune Sean had chosen to play.

 
CHAPTER NINETEEN
    Donna and Jonny’s text messages were designed for their eyes only. Three quarters of them were short, repetitive and sexual. A sex act by phone. Bill imagined Jonny sitting in the long night shift, putting in time by fantasising.
    The tone only changed near Donna’s death. Tense and angry, Jonny demanded to know where Donna was and why she didn’t answer. Jonny was running scared. Scared and jealous.
    They had never recovered Donna’s mobile. Bill was beginning to think Tracey had removed it from the handbag before they arrived at the scene of Donna’s death. If Tracey listened to the messages, did that make her suspicious of someone? Is that why she was killed?
    He’d insisted on interviewing every footballer who used the lap dancing club, which hadn’t gonedown well with the Superintendent. Bill didn’t care.
    He didn’t like any of them on principle. Beckham look-a-likes with money and an inflated sense of their own importance.
    The one that sat in front of him now was different. Quietly spoken. Slightly built with the intensity of a young Jimmy Johnstone.
    Thomas Watkins. Bill had seen the name in the paper a lot recently. A rising star. Scotland’s hope for the future. A lot of pressure for a nineteen year old.
    Bill pushed Donna’s photo across the interview table.
    â€˜Donna Stevens. Known to you as Rose.’
    Thomas gave the photo a quick glance. Too quick.
    â€˜Sorry. Don’t know her.’
    Bill consulted his notebook. ‘You and three mates booked Rose on the night of the... ’
    â€˜We booked Rose, but it wasn’t this girl.’
    Bill withdrew Donna’s picture and substituted Tracey’s battered body.
    The face went white. Bill could swear he heard the stomach churn.
    Watkins’ voice was a whisper. ‘That’s her.’
    Bill waited.
    Watkins cleared his throat. ‘My