Page 55 of Better the Devil

‘He wants Olivia to go and live with him,’ Jack replied.

His sights were locked on the man. They hadn’t shifted a millimetre since Shona had entered the room.

‘What? No. But… Why’s he not in jail?’ This time, it was Jack she didn’t wait for. ‘Why are you not in jail?’ she demanded, aiming the question at Bosco himself. ‘You’re meant to be in jail.’

‘I am free now. I have learned error of ways,’ Bosco said.

‘My arse,’ Logan spat.

‘No, is true. Is true, I promise, Jack. You and me, we go back long way, yes? Many years. Back to Glasgow. Back to old days. You know me.’

‘Oh, I know you only too well, Bosco.’

‘Then look in my eyes. Look in my eyes and see that I tell you truth. In prison, I had… What is word? Like idea-fart in brain.’

‘Epiphany,’ Olivia said.

‘Yes! Yes, that is word. My girl! Smart girl, always so smart!’ Bosco cheered. ‘I hadepiphany. Realised that my whole life, I have wasted. Thrown away in pursuit of wealth. Power.’ He thumped a fist against his chest. ‘Reputation of big man. That is what I go after. What I care about. But it is waste. I am not big man. There only one big man.’

Logan groaned, already sensing what was coming here.

‘Don’t. Don’t even start,’ he muttered. ‘Don’t you fucking dare.’

Bosco smiled. Despite the blood between his teeth, and the big bag of peas on his nose, there was something almost serene about it.

‘In prison, I am introduced to man by name of Jesus.’

‘Whoa! Detective Inspector Khaled!’

DCI Nathan Reeve’s smile hit Hamza in the face like a spotlight. Reeve took a moment to thank the gathered SOCOs for their hard work, then they parted like the Red Sea before Moses, and he came striding up to intercept Hamza and Ben.

He gripped Hamza’s hand in both of his and shook it, staring into the DI’s eyes like it was love at first sight. The grip was strong, the hands rough and calloused, but there was a warmth in Reeve’s smile that radiated out of him.

‘I read about your promotion in the last briefing. Well deserved. CID in Aberdeen still talks about you like you’re some kind of legend. Which, I mean, you are, obviously.’

‘Hang on,’ Ben said, looking the DCI up and down. ‘Are you American?’

Reeve relinquished his grip on Hamza’s hand. Hamza stared at his open palm for a few seconds, like he was trying to figure out what had just happened, then let it fall back to his side.

‘No. I mean, yeah. I mean, it’s complicated,’ Reeve replied. ‘It’s the accent, right? Kind of a giveaway?’

That, Ben confirmed, had been a big clue. Reeve’s voice was rich and deep, and very clearly hailed from somewhere on the other side of the Atlantic. There wasn’t a specific twang that Ben recognised—it didn’t have that New York nasal thing, or a Redneck drawl—but it was definitely from somewhere in North America.

‘You got me. Born in Cumbernauld, raised in Tennessee.’

‘That must’ve been quite an upgrade,’ Ben said, and Reeve’s smile only widened.

‘Ah, both have their charms, if you know where to find them.’

His brow, weathered by the sort of sun that rarely troubled Scottish skies, creased. He tilted his head, just a fraction, like a dog trying to identify an unfamiliar sound.

‘Wait. Hold up.’ He looked Ben up and down, like he couldn’t believe his luck. ‘DI Benjamin Forde?’

‘Just Ben these days. Retired.’

‘Oh! So…?’ He clicked his fingers. ‘Gotcha. Some kind of handover, right? Passing of the torch.’

‘Someting like that, aye,’ Ben confirmed.