Dark Flight by Lin Anderson Read Free Book Online

often rendered people incapable of standard human reactions. In different cultures, people behaved in different ways. Sometimes with weeping and wailing and beating of breasts. Sometimes with what resembled cold indifference. Occasionally with obsession about every aspect of the death, however horrific.
    Bill wondered what cultural background John Devlin came from. From brief research, he’d discovered Nigeria had a number of faiths, including Animism, Christianity and Islam. As well as multiple faiths it had many different tribes, all of whom, it seemed, distrusted and often hated one another. Devlin sounded as though he had been educated in England. How much of Africa still ran in his blood?
    When John Devlin emerged, Bill was waiting forhim. Carole’s husband had the air of someone who had achieved something positive, however small.
    His tone was gracious. ‘Thank you for letting me be with her on my own.’
    Bill gestured at the machine. ‘Do you want some coffee?’
    ‘Thank you again, but no.’ He pulled out the mobile. ‘I must call my company and explain why I am not in London.’
    ‘Are there any calls between you and your wife on that phone?’
    Devlin thought for a moment. ‘I talked to Carole briefly after she arrived in the UK.’
    ‘Make your call, then I’d like our technical boys to take a look at your phone, if that’s all right?’
    Devlin looked perturbed, then nodded. ‘Of course, if you think it will help.’
    The ring of Bill’s own phone broke the moment. It was Janice, her voice trembling with shock.
    ‘They’ve found the body of a boy.’
    Bill turned away from Devlin and kept his voice low. ‘Stephen?’
    ‘We don’t know, sir. But the boy is black.’
    Bill swore under his breath.
    ‘Okay, Janice. Give me directions.’ He listened carefully, then hung up, preparing his face and accompanying lie for John Devlin. There was no use telling him about the body until they were sure it was Stephen’s.
    But when Bill turned, the waiting room was empty. Devlin had disappeared. Bill checked the washroom first then ran outside. The car park was bare apart fromhis own vehicle and two others, one he recognised as Dr Sissons’s. The blue Vauxhall Corsa had gone.
    Bill cursed again.
    What an idiot. Thirty years in the force and he let Devlin fool him with his posh accent and studied calm. He radioed in and put out a description of Devlin and the car.
    The body had been spotted floating at the mouth of the Kelvin. A man had called the Humane Society at their base in Glasgow Green. Their boat, used to picking up suicides and drownings in the Clyde estuary, had radioed the Police Boat, which had provided the high-profile policing on the river since April 2003. Staffed by a sergeant and seven specially trained constables it had plenty of work. The River Clyde was at the heart of 650 square miles of west of Scotland inland waterway.
    Bill called Rhona and asked her to meet him there. He suspected, when she picked up, that she had hoped the call would be good news. He was sorry to dash her hopes.
    ‘You think it’s Stephen?’
    ‘It’s a black kid. That’s all Janice could tell me.’
    ‘Does Devlin know?’
    Bill related the incident in the mortuary and Devlin’s sudden disappearance.
    ‘He was shocked when he learned the truth,’ Rhona suggested.
    ‘Or he didn’t want me to have his phone.’
    ‘Taking photos of your wife isn’t a crime, even if she’s dead.’
    ‘It’s not just that. There’s something weird about Devlin’s reaction to all this. Particularly to the kid missing. It was as though he didn’t care.’
    ‘Remember, he came to you. Would he have done that if he’d killed his wife?’
    Probably not, but then murderers often offered help to get close to the investigation.
    The Clydeside Expressway was nose to tail with lunchtime traffic. Distracted by his thoughts, Bill shot past his exit and had to double back. As a result Rhona got there before him.

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