Screams in the Dark Read Online Free

caught Tony’s eye as soon as she came into the room, and he made his way across to her and offered her a drink. He wasn’t like the others in this party, he told her, and he could see she was different. They went somewhere quiet, just to talk. And that’s how it all began.
    She finished her coffee and pushed the cup away. She brought out the other letter, addressed to Frank, and opened it:
    What have we done, Frank? What happened to us? We were the wide-eyed law students who were going to change the world. Remember? I told you we should have stopped. See you in hell … Tony .

CHAPTER 3
    Rosie looked at her watch while she was agreeing to meet Don Elliot, her Strathclyde Police CID contact and friend. She had time for a quick coffee, she told him and no, she didn’t want to go to O’Brien’s tonight. She ignored Don’s digs asking her if she had a hot date. She had, but that was her business.
    She smiled to herself as she drove up Byres Road towards the cafe in Ashton Lane, feeling that little rush in her stomach because later she was going to TJ’s flat where he was cooking dinner. Happy Friday. Rosie checked herself for behaving like a lovestruck teenager of late, waiting for TJ’s call, anxious if it didn’t come, stressing out that perhaps he’d disappeared again. Get a grip woman. Her mind drifted to the moment six months ago when he’d turned up on her doorstep, but she pushed it away in case the memory would become diminished by reliving it. She wanted to cherish the moment so she could call it up now and again like a treasure. On the way to the cafe she called TJ to let him know she’d be alittle late, but he pre-empted her before she spoke, joking, ‘Yeah, Rosie. I know. You’ll be late. Don’t worry, I won’t start cooking till you come.’
    *
    ‘So, whatever happened to a few stiff gin and tonics when you finish work on a Friday?’ said Don, sidling into the booth opposite Rosie. ‘What’s got into you, Gilmour?’
    ‘Health kick,’ Rosie replied. ‘Skinny lattes.’ She held up her frothy coffee. ‘Decaf, by the way.’
    ‘What a faggot you turned out to be.’
    ‘You should try it some time.’
    ‘What, being a faggot?’
    ‘No. The decaf latte.’ Rosie sipped her coffee.
    ‘No thanks, I’ll have a beer.’ He looked up at the waitress. ‘You got Peroni, sweetheart? Might as well join the yuppies.’
    Rosie watched as Don poured the lager into the frosted glass and took a long, thirsty slug.
    ‘I needed that,’ he sighed. ‘Long day.’
    Rosie raised her eyebrows, knowing he was bursting to tell her.
    ‘So, Don. What’s the craic with the torso? Grisly stuff, I dare say.’
    ‘Too right. I was in at the post-mortem. Didn’t take very long, as you can imagine, given that there wasn’t much left of it.’ He shook his head and downed another mouthful of lager. ‘Tell you what, Rosie. Something very strange going on here. Very fucking strange.’
    ‘Yeah,’ Rosie said. ‘What kind of psycho cuts someone’s arms and legs off? Shades of Dennis Neilson, rememberhim from Aberdeen? Cutting up his victims and cooking their limbs in a big pot. Some very weird people out there.’
    ‘You bet,’ Don said. He waved the waitress over and ordered another Peroni. ‘But hey, it gets worse, Rosie.’ He lowered his voice and beckoned her closer. ‘Somebody took this fucker’s heart and lungs out. Kidneys and all. The lot.’ His eyes widened. ‘Aye. And his … er … tackle. I mean, they even took the poor bastard’s tackle!’
    ‘Jesus! You’re kidding.’
    ‘Seriously. The pathologist couldn’t believe it when they opened it up.’
    ‘What’s the thinking? Is it some kind of ritualistic killing? Any ideas where the body is from or anything like that? White? Black? Brit?’
    ‘White,’ he said. ‘And yeah, there was something interesting. Some tiny wee tattoo up above the groin. Looked like a flag of some description. Green with a yellow half moon and a star.