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know what I’m saying? But as of three months ago he can go wherever he likes.’
    One of the uniformed PCs stuck up a hand. ‘Yeah, but why Aberdeen?’
    ‘Because blood’s thicker than water.’

5
    ‘Hold on, maybe this’ll help…’ PC Guthrie yanked open the curtains, unleashing a cloud of dust. Pale grey morning light oozed in through the grubby bay window. If anything, it just made the place look worse.
    Once upon a time the velvet curtains were probably a rich red, but now they were the colour of dried blood. The wallpaper was a collection of faded roses and vines, the room’s corners infested with the familiar black spider webs of mildew. Standard lamps with tasselled edging, a sagging couch, a nest of tables, a mantelpiece weighed down with dusty porcelain figurines.
    The sour taint of ancient cat pee.
    Steel wrinkled her nose. ‘No’ exactly Better Homes and Gardens, is it?’
    Logan had to agree. The whole place looked like the contents of a bring and buy sale, circa 1975. ‘Could do with a bit of a clean.’
    Richard Knox stood in the middle of the worn carpet, one hand on the back of a rickety armchair and smiled. ‘I think it’s perfect…’
    It was a rundown detached house in Cornhill, with anovergrown front garden, sagging gutters, moss-covered roof, and peeling paintwork.
    A pair of black-and-white photographs hung on the wall above the fireplace, one of a dour-looking man in an old-fashioned suit, the other a severe woman with a fifties haircut and scowl.
    ‘I never met me real grandfather.’ Knox stared up at them. ‘The Lord took him when me mother was still a little girl. But Granny Murray was a terror, you know? Always banging on about Jesus this, and Bible that.’ Knox smiled. ‘Wish I’d listened to her when I had the chance, like. Bet things would’ve turned out very different for us if I’d found God before the Devil found me.’
    Creepy little bastard. Ever since they’d arrived at the manky old house he’d been practically glowing.
    They followed him from room to room, opening the curtains, upsetting the dust and mould, ending up in a double bedroom at the back of the house overlooking a long back garden choked with bushes and weeds. The large bed drooped in the middle, its quilted cover pockmarked and cat-clawed. Knox settled on the edge, clutching the same old battered carrier bag to his chest.
    A woman’s head poked around the door: John Lennon glasses, chubby cheeks, short curly ginger hair. A hamster in a lumberjack shirt who’d introduced herself as PC Somethingorother from the Offender Management Unit. ‘Seems OK to me, location-wise, but I’m still not happy about Richard staying here. Might be a bit risky with it belonging to a relation and all.’
    DSI Danby shook his head. ‘You don’t have to worry about that. Euphemia Murray remarried after Knox’s grandfather died. Even if someone gets hold of his mother’s maiden name, it won’t be the same as the old woman’s.’
    Knox smiled. ‘Outlived two husbands, didn’t she? You have to admire that.’
    The DSI pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. ‘Before we leave you in the capable hands of Constable Irvine and her team, we have to go through the terms of your SOPO.’
    Knox groaned, then flopped back on the quilt, provoking another puff of dust from the ancient fabric. ‘Do we have to? I mean—’
    ‘Yes we do.’ Danby handed the paperwork to Logan. ‘Do the honours will you, Sergeant?’
    Logan cleared his throat. ‘Sexual Offences Prevention Order for Richard Albert Knox, Thirty-Five Cairnview Terrace, Aberdeen. Applied for by Chief Constable Brian Anderson and approved by Sheriff McNab. This order is valid for five years from today’s date and lays out—’
    ‘How about,’ said Danby, ‘we skip the bumph and get to the conditions?’
    ‘Oh, right…er…You will not go within two hundred yards of any retirement home or recreation centre where older men might congregate. You will not