Saints of the Shadow Bible (Rebus) by Ian Rankin Read Free Book Online Page A

nothing, but until I know for sure . . .’
    ‘Would it really matter if Forbes was in the car?’ She was staring at him.
    ‘If he was in the car, that means he left you there. Didn’t phone for help or flag down a passing motorist . . .’
    ‘I don’t see why the police would be interested in any of that.’
    Rebus gave another shrug. ‘What about your father? Won’t he be interested?’
    ‘It’s not really any of his business, is it?’
    ‘Fair enough.’ Rebus watched as she checked the screen of her phone. Maybe she had messages and maybe she didn’t. ‘How long till you get to leave here?’
    ‘I’ve got to talk to a physio first.’
    ‘They’ll probably tell you to stay away from fast cars for a while.’
    She managed a half-smile.
    ‘And country roads at night,’ Rebus added. ‘West Lothian isn’t called the Badlands for nothing.’
    She looked up at him. ‘Badlands?’
    ‘Because it’s largely lawless.’
    ‘That explains a lot.’ Rebus waited for more, but she pressed her lips together. A classic tell: she knew she’d let something slip.
    ‘Jessica, if there’s anything you feel you need to—’
    ‘Get out!’ she yelled, just as a nurse entered the room. ‘I want him to leave! Please!’
    Rebus already had his hands up in a show of surrender. He walked past the nurse and into the corridor.
    Badlands?
    That explains a lot.
    Explained what, though? Something had happened that evening. Rebus made a little mental note to check back – the comms room at Bilston Glen would have records of anything that had been reported. Illegal races? Locals trying to scare the tourists?
    ‘Something or nothing,’ he muttered to himself, exiting the hospital and readying to light a cigarette. A black cab had pulled up. The passenger had left the back seat, preparing to pay the driver at the passenger-side window. Basic error by someone who was used to a different system – in Edinburgh you paid before getting out. Rebus walked over and waited behind Owen Traynor. He seemed to be wearing the same suit but a fresh shirt. The driver passed over some change and a receipt, and Traynor turned away, startled to find Rebus right in front of him.
    ‘Bloody hell,’ he said.
    ‘Sorry, sir. I was just leaving.’
    ‘You’ve been to see Jessica?’
    Rebus nodded.
    ‘And?’
    ‘And what, Mr Traynor?’
    ‘Do you still think that boyfriend of hers was behind the steering wheel?’
    ‘It’s a scenario.’
    ‘Well maybe she’ll tell me.’
    Rebus doubted it, but didn’t say as much. ‘Probably simpler for everyone if we just drop it,’ he suggested instead. ‘Whatever the truth is, Jessica’s standing by Mr McCuskey.’
    ‘Yes, but if he did that to her . . .’
    ‘Like I say, sir, better to just let it be. We don’t want anyone doing something daft, do we?’
    Traynor stared at him.
    ‘You see what I’m saying?’ Rebus went on.
    ‘I’m not sure that I do,’ Traynor drawled.
    ‘You have a reputation, Mr Traynor. And I’m interested how you came by your friends in the Met.’
    ‘Maybe I’m just a member of the right clubs.’ Traynor began edging past Rebus, making for the hospital entrance.
    ‘My town, my rules,’ Rebus called out. But Owen Traynor showed no sign of having heard.
    ‘Thanks for meeting me,’ Malcolm Fox said, rising from the table and extending a hand towards Siobhan Clarke. ‘What can I get you?’
    ‘Brian’s already on it.’ She nodded towards the counter. The café owner was busy at the espresso machine. The place was only a hundred yards or so down Leith Walk from Gayfield Square, but she didn’t know any other cops who frequented it. Making it a safe rendezvous, more or less.
    Clarke slid on to the banquette opposite Fox. They’d met before, but just barely.
    ‘I heard you were on your way out of the Complaints,’ she said. ‘That can’t be comfortable.’
    ‘No,’ Fox agreed, rubbing a hand across the tabletop.
    Reorganisation again –