The Killer Inside Read Online Free Page B

hygienic, are they?’
    Alistair shook his head. ‘I’m sure you could catch a lot worse than tetanus. We’ll know more when we’ve done the tests.’
    ‘What’s your gut reaction to this, though?’ Megan held his gaze. ‘Do you think it could have been suicide?’
    ‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘We may never know. What I can say is that if it is suicide, it’s the first one I’ve seen in this place that’s involved drugs.’
    ‘Could the heroin have been cut with something?’ Megan asked. ‘Something that could have killed him where the heroin alone wouldn’t have?’
    ‘Quite possible.’ He nodded. ‘Dealers are cutting drugs with all kinds of rubbish these days. The toxicology report’s going to show that up, anyway.’ He rubbed the skin between his lower lip and his chin, staring vacantly at the body as if he was weighing something up. ‘You say you’ve spoken to one of the other inmates about him?’
    ‘Yes – why?’
    ‘Did you get the impression that Mr Kelly here had any enemies?’
    ‘No one specific, but in a prison it’s next to impossible not to rub someone up the wrong way.’ She frowned. ‘Why?You don’t think someone…’ She allowed herself to look at the head again, at that awful, grinning face.
    ‘Someone could have given him dodgy heroin on purpose, yes,’ he said. ‘How the hell you’d prove it, though, I’ve no idea.’
     
    Megan stayed away from the prison the next day. Her teaching workload at the university had been lightened this term to allow time for the research she was doing but she felt unable to carry on with it until she was clear about exactly how Carl Kelly had died. If someone had deliberately set out to kill him and that someone was one of the prison officers, she needed to know. It would throw a whole new light on what was going on inside Balsall Gate, hinting at a level of organised crime and intimidation that went way beyond anything she had anticipated.
    She wondered how much Dom Wilde knew that he wasn’t telling her. He had hinted at things but she had the impression he was holding something back. His reaction to Carl’s death had been a revelation. Was he more afraid than he appeared to be?
    She spent the next day and a half organising the notes she had already taken. Despite the fact that she wasn’t officially meant to be in her office, there were constant interruptions from various members of staff who had obviously been waiting to grab her the moment she reappeared. When she heard a fifth person knock her door in the space of an hour she groaned under her breath. This time it wasn’t one of the departmental lecturers. It was an undergraduate called Nathan MacNamara.
    ‘Dr Rhys?’ He stood on the threshold, six foot two of skin and bone, his blond-streaked brown hair sticking out from his head like a tarnished halo.
    ‘Nathan.’ She tried to inject some warmth into her voice but her heart had sunk at the sight of him. She wondered what excuse he’d cooked up this time.
    ‘I brought you something.’ He ambled into the room, covering the space between the door and her desk in three long strides. Reaching into the pocket of his baggy, ripped parka he pulled out a brown paper bag with something bulky inside. Whatever it was had exuded grease while inside his coat, leaving translucent blobs on the paper.
    ‘Er…thank you Nathan. What is it?’ She took the bag between the nails of her thumb and forefinger, trying to avoid contact with her skin.
    ‘It’s a piece of birthday cake. As you couldn’t come to the party I thought I’d bring you some.’ He gave her a sheepish smile. ‘It’s fudge cake. With chocolate orange segments on top.’
    She peered inside the bag, searching for something to say. He was leaning across her desk, so close now she could smell him: it was the kind of smell given off by so many male students, a mixture of beer slops and rancid trainers. It was so difficult. He was one of the brightest students in