Truth Lies Bleeding Read Online Free Page A

seemed to mirror the sad mix of hurt and shame. Grief swayed through the assembled bodies; Brennan knew this wasn’t a good sign. A community in hurt was a community in trouble, and trouble he could well do without.
    The constable put on his cap, followed Brennan out to the pavement. The SOCOs paced from a small laneway, into their white van that looked like a mobile library. Brennan watched their faces for signs, giveaways, but they portrayed nothing. They never did. Two uniforms greeted the DI. One was speaking into the radio clipped onto his Kevlar vest but he stopped when he saw the detective. ‘Morning, sir.’
    Brennan nodded. ‘We got the doc on site?’
    ‘He’s been and gone.’
    ‘Fucking hell. Already? Has he a holiday booked?’
    The constable rubbed his cheek, tried to speak but couldn’t seem to find the right words.
    ‘Never mind,’ said Brennan. ‘Let’s get going.’
    As he paced for the lane he was T-boned by a young woman with a digital recorder in her hand. She had just ducked under the blue-and-white tape and definitely wasn’t messing about. ‘Are you the investigating officer?’ she said.
    Brennan looked at her then glanced to the uniforms. They pushed in front of her and grabbed her arms.
    ‘Get off me!’
    ‘Sorry about this, sir.’
    Brennan watched the scene. The woman was early twenties, fresh-faced. She was also too eager for her own good.
    ‘Do you have an ID for the victim?’
    She already had too much information.
    ‘Do you have any suspects on the girl’s death?’
    Brennan felt a flush of heat in his chest; he clenched his jaw. The woman prised an arm free of the uniforms, pushed out the recorder’s mic. Brennan lifted a hand, covered the small, silver-coloured device. ‘You seem to know more than me, love.’
    She tutted, near spat, ‘I’m not your love !’
    Brennan smiled at her and walked away. Over his shoulder he said, ‘Got that right.’
    A SOCO approached as he walked to the lane. ‘Morning, sir.’
    ‘Is it?’
    The man dropped his brows. ‘Sir?’
    Brennan stopped, nodding back to the scene he’d just left. ‘How did the fucking press latch onto this so soon?’
    Now he raised his brows. ‘The press?’
    ‘That’s not a welcoming party from the News .’
    The SOCO looked past Brennan. The young reporter was being escorted beyond the taped-off area. ‘Never seen her before.’
    ‘Get a good look. Sure you’ll be seeing a lot more of her. Trust me, I’m a good judge of character.’
    The SOCO had no reply. He handed Brennan a pair of blue covers for his shoes.
    ‘Got some gloves?’ said the detective.
    A shrug, shake of the head.
    ‘Typical. Come on then, let’s do this.’
    Brennan strode past the officer, made for the lane. As he passed, the SOCO spoke out, ‘I should warn you, sir, it’s not a pretty sight.’
    Brennan turned. ‘It never is, lad.’

Chapter 4
    DEVLIN McARDLE RUBBED AN OPEN palm over his smooth head. The razor sting ignited with his touch but the satisfaction he felt with the close crop cancelled it out.
    ‘Nice one, just the job,’ he said.
    The barber smiled, leaned in and brushed at McArdle’s shoulders. A few strands of stubble fell to the floor. McArdle turned down the corners of his mouth, pushed away the barber’s hand. ‘That’s enough, that’s enough.’ As he rose from the chair, the black robe was removed in one swift pull. He strode to the till, said, ‘How much?’
    A shake of the head. ‘No charge, sir.’ The barber made a small cross over his heart. ‘Not for you, sir.’
    McArdle smiled. It was only a small curl of the lip; he didn’t look used to it, and stopped it almost as quickly as it appeared. As he turned for the door he saw a thin man waiting outside for him. He was tugging nervously at the cord on his jogging trousers. There was a tic queuing on his eyelid and he brushed at it with a speed that looked unnatural. Jumpy, the man was jumpy. Even more than usual, if that was possible. His