The Devil's Due: A Cooper and McCall Scottish Crime Thriller by Ramsay Sinclair (good inspirational books .TXT) 📗

Catherine’s medical records spoke of nothing much, until a few pages in. Jack Harper was treating her, and so far, that was all to link them together. My eyes were closing of their own accord no matter how hard I fought to keep them open.

“Ma’am?” Cass and the receptionist were both standing at the door frame, looking down at me. I jumped and lifted my head from the ransacked filing cabinets.

“You dozed off, ma’am,” Cass informed me.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Only about five minutes. We have to close now.” The receptionist hated to rush me, but it had to be done.

“Could I take this? I’ll need to have another look over it, and my DCI will need to see it tomorrow,” I explained as I clambered to my feet, brown folder still in hand. The receptionist seemed unsure whether to let me take the file. “I’ll bring it back as soon as possible and clear your name from any questions your boss may ask.”

It worked, for she agreed and let me out of the building, chattering away. Cass was telling us all about her little boy. His name was Freddie, a student at Dalgety Bay primary school. A smart, comical and exceptional character of a boy. I reached the Volvo, submerged in gossip. They were lovely people, after all.

“We hope you catch them,” the receptionist said grimly, as a form of goodbye. It was a strange situation, for we weren’t friends or anything but had spent an entire night together.

“I’ll try my best. Thank you for all your help,” I reminded them, waving the folder in the air.

“Thank you, ma’am. Good luck with everything. You’ll catch ‘em, I know it.” Cass bounded over and hugged me with relief. It was nice to feel appreciated for once, instead of the general public questioning every move we made and action we decided on.

“Thank you, Cass. Look after young Freddie.”

“That reminds me.” She raised her dark brows. “The school is doing a nativity play in two weeks. Come along and watch, Freddie would love it. He’s obsessed with police officers.” It was sweet, the amount of devotion Cass held for her son.

“If my schedule’s not too busy.” I smiled and hoped our working days would drastically shorten in time for Christmas. A nativity would be a perfect way to get into the Christmas spirit and see what our community had to offer. Maybe DC Taylor would like to come along. I’d have to drag Finlay down too, show him a nice night out for Christmas.

Cass waved, setting off home. I clambered into our vehicle, switched on the overhead light, and got stuck back into Catherine Jones’s file.

I had to squint in the faint light. Her recent place of address was visible on the sheet. Let’s see. Catherine had undergone tests for anxiety and depression after a recent loss, all brought on from grief. She’d been prescribed prescription pills by none other than Jack Harper himself. My phone buzzed, reminding me that I still had to travel home yet, without falling asleep at the wheel. A risk I was unwilling to take.

My drive took me the main route home, past restaurants containing their last straggles of customers. I stopped at a traffic light and happened to look into a restaurant window. There was a couple, holding hands and sipping glasses of white wine. They were in love, anybody could tell.

A horn blasted, warning me that I had stopped at a green traffic light. Yeah, alright, mate. Calm down.

A couple of men smoked outside the pub, jeering at another man puking his guts out against a wall. Positively nauseating. The man puking, stood up uneasily, holding his jacket in one arm. His hand wiped his mouth before he moved around to face the road. His face was concealed from view before, but now I knew exactly who that stranger was.

Finlay Cooper.

13

McCall

What was that man thinking? I made an angry u-turn, screeching up next to the curbside. Finlay didn’t even realise, having decided to start shouting at thin air. Drunk people were bad enough, but a drunk Finlay Cooper was worse. I had never seen him drink before tonight, but now I knew why. He couldn’t handle it. Lightweight.

“Finlay Cooper, get your ass over here right now!”

The pub guys oohed, probably thinking I was his wife or something. I stopped there before I got too carried away. I never thought of Finlay in that way before, but now that I had, I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He stumbled around some more, puke staining his entire shirt. I could smell it from over here. Finlay was unusually dishevelled, for he liked to be neat as a pin for all occasions. Why was he even at the pub in the first place? Not only was it a weekday, but Finlay hated going out, especially to clubs and pubs. He lost his footing a few times on some loose bits of pavement and scratched his floppy brunette hair in confusion. He was nothing short of a mess.

When I reached within touching distance of Finlay, he noticed me. I could tell. His face dropped like his mother had caught him doing something he shouldn’t. Those mysterious eyes were hazy deep pools of water which held the sting of injustice. Finlay looked terrible, like his whole being had glitched. Pale white skin and blotchy red cheeks were enough to tell me he needed help.

He now hunched over, head resting between his large masculine hands.

“Finlay?” I called out sternly. Finlay’s head snapped up when I called out and took a while to register who I was.

“McCall?” Finlay whispered, as though any noise louder than that would deafen him. Ten points for the detective. Even when he was blind drunk, he refused to call me by my first name.

“It’s Kirsty, how many times…?” I cut myself off to focus on the matter at hand. “What are you doing?” My body cast a shadow onto