The Devil Among Us, Ramsay Sinclair [black books to read .txt] 📗

The Devil Among Us

A Cooper & McCall Scottish Crime Thriller

Ramsay Sinclair

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

10. McCall

Chapter 11

12. McCall

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Epilogue

A Message from the Author

Prologue

Seagulls cawed and swooped from a whirlpool of clouds forming overhead. Gentle crashing ocean waves lapped at the slither of dirty sand and slippery pebbles. With every step taken, the rocks ground together with a dull sound that made the hairs on my arms stand upright. The finite, gritty residue of sand also stuck to the soles of my shoes.

Sailing boats were struggling against the building gale-force wind and slowly made their way back to land. Meanwhile, the coattails of my jacket wiped and slapped erratically on my calves.

In the near distance, the Forth Bridge’s vividly engineered construction was lost in the rolling fog coming in from the south. A tangy hint of salt settled on my tongue and every pore felt clogged up from its heavy vapour.

Any sight of tourists or locals was soon lost, due to the rapid changes in weather. They’d run for shelter in whatever bars or restaurants were available. The scent of hot foods carried along with forceful winds. Mainly elderly folks or demure families enjoyed the quirkiness of our bay, as well as a stream of tourists throughout the year who enjoyed its kookiness and feeling that no other town possessed. Then again, maybe I was simply biased?

The miserable weather didn’t bother me much. In fact, it was quite refreshing. Seeing as the wife was at work, I’d decided to take a wander. Sitting home alone wasn’t much fun, and there wasn’t any work to do; I’d been forced to take time off by McCall and our DCI alike.

Having a few months away from CID for ‘medical reasons’ felt like a halfhearted excuse. The local papers had said the same, but they never did take a liking to me. Their lurid headlines were only there to sell copies, rather than flatter a middle-aged detective inspector.

After an array of diverse cases, various shocks over the years, and my overall unhealthy lifestyle, the doctor said that I was lucky to have avoided a heart attack. It was a shock to hear, but not surprising. Not with the nightmares I often endured, and the number of cigarettes inhaled over a lifetime. Plus, I’d always been prone to the odd stress-induced migraine.

They’d warned that my lifestyle was taking its toll on my body and must change immediately. Hence the leave, and torture of watching my wife throw every single cigarette into the bin. She’d also insisted on a new healthy diet, as well as plenty of exercise, thus the walk I’d embarked upon.

That may help combat the high blood pressure, but it didn’t stop the nightmares that plagued me. Nothing could. I supposed, seeing the things we officers do, that it was natural to have restless, terrible dreams. Mine would consist of a washed-up body one night, to a woman screaming the next.

That very morning, I’d jolted awake from the memory of an explosion. Forced to relive the booming reverberation of noise, and heated flames that licked against my heels. The incident had been pushed out of my mind for a long time, though it wasn’t purposeful. It wasn’t the first fire I’d seen, nor last, but it was an influential one for CID.

Even strolling didn’t stop me from thinking about the station, and what cases they had. McCall had tried hard to relay most of the important details correctly, as I’d done for her when forced to take time away. We struggled to stay away from each other, for being partners for many years had established a strong connection between us. Even if we wouldn’t admit that out loud.

If walking was supposed to clear the mind, it had put mine into a transcendental state. I’d had little control over where my feet had decided to roam. Perhaps thinking about the explosion had subconsciously led me here, to the place where it all unfolded.

Barely anything had changed. The old fashioned architecture showcased a typical derelict house, which should’ve been knocked down. Even before the explosion, it was just as run down and tired looking. Then again, it could’ve been a listed building. I was surprised that the townsfolk hadn’t kicked up a fuss about the eyesore that was still standing. Just.

Its boarded-up windows had graffiti all over, designed by some hoodlums with nothing better to do. Dalgety Bay had little entertainment to offer for the youths. It certainly wasn’t a particularly exciting place for teenagers, unlike Edinburgh or somewhere even busier like London. Judging by the empty larger cans and various plastic items I’d rather forget, the building had become something of a hangout spot.

Splatters of raindrops steamed over my face, cool and fresh. The droplets settled onto my eyelashes and dislodged themselves each time I blinked to join the other drops on both cheeks.

They also poured onto the dampened brickwork, creating pools of discolouration wherever they landed. The inside was probably covered in mould, as a direct result of the awful weather spells we’d received. Underfoot, the dirt had become a troughed pit of slick mud, threatening to slip me up any moment soon.

Craning my neck to peer up at the intimidating structure, it towered tall, like a looming father would to a child. If I closed my eyes, the flashbacks of the heat bellowed against my chilled skin and the sound of burning fluid cackling against wood beams sent shivers across my spine.

There came a strange sense of closure returning here, one which was gladly accepted. I let it wash over me, from the tip of my fingertips to the heels of both feet. There was a sense of forgiveness in the air, as though the rain was washing the tainted memories away.

Growing as a man since the case meant