Shrike (Book 2): Rampant Read Online Free Page B

gym, I can recommend a few good ones."
    I take a closer look at this John Abbey. His suit is just a suit to me — I'm sure it's expensive, but other than that I couldn't tell it from H&M. But when he moves, I can see that his muscles are fluid, densely packed. He's not just saying it to get in my good graces; he's an athlete, and it shows. Life of leisure, I suppose. Or radioactive Irn Bru, in my case.
    "Cheers for that. I prefer sport climbing outdoors, though."
    "Fair enough."
    The silence returns, and I wish I could chat to someone else about anything. Doctor Who. Or salami. I'd take a spirited discussion of salami just now.
    Magda saves me.
    "Gwen! I see you have met John." She smiles warmly at him, and he returns it just as winningly. 
    "I have indeed. We share a love of climbing." 
    He gives me a solicitous nod, and I make my escape, heading toward what I assume is the loo. Walking away, I hear him ask Magda a question. "Have you considered my offer?"
    I feign interest in a sparkly cocktail dress hanging opposite a landscape painting done all in greyscale.
    "I would be happy to hear more," Magda tells him, excitement crowding her words and thickening her Polish accent.
    "Dinner then?" He starts to offer times, and I decide I don't need to hear any more.
    I check my mobile in the loo. I've got two voicemails from Sergeant McLean.
    "Bugger," I mutter, keying in my security code.
    Ten seconds of listening later, I'm back out the door. I signal to Magda that I have to go.
    "Accounting emergency?" John Abbey's laugh follows me out the door into the stairwell, but I don't care.
    There's been another murder.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    four
     
    This one's in Falkirk, and I barely catch Sergeant McLean at the Waverley Station before he boards the train without me.
    "You'll have to stay out of sight," he says, eschewing a proper greeting for orders, I see.
    "Aye, that's fine." I don't expect him to turn up one of these days with a special badge for me. Though that'd make things handy. "How are you getting to visit the crime scene?"
    "I know the investigator."
    I heft my rucksack in one hand and board the train. The train is sparsely populated; most folk are more likely to be heading into Auld Reekie on a Friday night instead of popping out of the city. McLean and I find two seats together, but we don't chat on the short train ride to Falkirk Grahamston. 
    We arrive at the station precisely 34 minutes later and disembark. It's a small train station with a tattered-looking footbridge over the tracks. The lighting is dim and orange, and a light rain falls, spattering my face. The rain brings a little freshness to air that otherwise smells of steel and oil. We cross the bridge and step around an oddly-triangular station building to reach the carpark.
    "I'll have to leave you here," McLean tells me. He points to the nearest road. "Take Meeks Street to Alma and then follow Alma all the way north to Gowan Avenue. The murder scene is just on that corner by the train yard." 
    I nod. He starts to walk away, but then turns back to me.
    "If you come around from the north, you ought to be able to get a good look from the rooftops."
    His mobile chirps, and he answers it in a low voice. A police van with lights flashing stops on the other side of the car park. McLean doesn't wave to me, just makes his way across the car park and gets into the van.
    With darkness to cover me, I follow McLean's instructions and make my way to Gowan Avenue. Flashing blue lights tell me I'm in the right place, but I walk past with only a moment's pause like any commuter coming home late from work. The bobbies are on the other side of a large metal gate, in the rail yard to my left. Alma makes a T with Gowan, but I manoeuvre through the buildings opposite the crime scene to circle around from the north. There's a large L-shaped building and another seemingly-abandoned ruin across from it, the windows sooty and smudged. I duck into