Electric Light (Blair Dubh Trilogy #3) Read Online Free Page A

a big, hearty man but now he was half the man he used to be, literally. Neither did it appear that he’d bought new clothes to accommodate his skinny frame. In fact they were so old they were frayed at the elbows and knees. His skin was pale and pasty, as though he didn’t get out much and his eyes were sunken and hollow. Even his voice had lost its deep timbre.
    “Please Gordon,” Craig replied, settling onto a stool.
    “How’s the bairn?” said Bill Miller, a huge bear of a man with an even bigger beard.
    Craig had thought he’d feel awkward being around Bill but he didn’t. Bill had taken John Docherty into the woods, killed him then made it look like an accident. Craig knew this but he’d never said a word. As far as the world was concerned Docherty had tried to escape, fallen down a ravine in the woods and broken his neck. In the village only himself, Bill and Jimmy - who was there with Bill at the time - knew what had really happened. Craig would always be grateful to him because Docherty had sworn he wouldn’t stop coming after Freya until she was dead.
    “Petie’s great. He’s walking now,” said Craig proudly.
    “And Freya?” said Bill as everyone gathered round to listen. That was the way in this pub - one person held court while the others listened, taking it in turns to talk.
    “She’s good. Back at work now Petie’s in nursery. How’s everyone been?” he said, attempting to deflect the conversation away from himself.
    “Fine, apart from your mum taking a tumble down the stairs,” said Jimmy Clark, Bill’s best friend and Lizzy’s husband.
    “No mad killers on the loose,” said Bill with a grim smile. “You can tell Freya it’s safe.”
    “Even if I did it wouldn’t make a difference.”
    “So she’s really never coming back?” said Howard, a short, portly man and another lifelong Blair Dubh resident.
    “Never say never,” replied Craig enigmatically.
    “Who can blame her after the horrible things she’s gone through here,” said Lizzy. “This village ruined her life.” She patted Craig’s hand. “Things got better for her when you two met up again.”
    Craig and Freya had been best friends as children until Freya had been torn from the village when she was eleven by Social Services after the murder of her mother. She’d been dumped on relatives in Glasgow, who’d resented a damaged child intruding on their lives and her own life had gone into a decline. It had taken her years to drag herself out of the gutter.
    “Is Toby still not welcome in here?” said Craig in another attempt to change the subject.
    Gordon shook his head angrily. “The prick’s still running his murder tours. After John Docherty he’s busier than ever, cashing in on other people’s pain. None of us have anything to do with him anymore but he doesn’t care, he’s too busy making money.”
    “He’s a leech living off grief and darkness,” said Jeanette, the small, elderly, bird-like woman who ran the shop.
    “I noticed the souvenirs in your shop window,” frowned Craig, her hypocrisy astounding him.
    She coloured and looked away.
    “Who are they?” Craig asked when he noticed a man and woman sitting together at the back of the room, whispering to each other and blatantly staring at him.
    “Tourists,” said Gordon, voice strengthened with disgust. “They were on Toby’s murder tour. They’re probably wetting themselves to see you here. Oh no you don’t,” called Gordon, voice ringing out loud and clear across the pub.
    Craig turned on his stool to see the man lowering his mobile phone, the camera of which had been aimed right at him.
    “You try that once more and you’ll be thrown out of here on your backsides,” added Gordon.
    Craig was surprised by the ferocity in his eyes. Gordon had always been so laid back.
    “Sorry about that Craig,” added Gordon, still glowering at the tourists, who had both turned bright red and hung their heads. “They look so normal. You