Page 118 of Better the Devil

He looked down at his feet, took a moment, then straightened his hunched shoulders and raised his voice as he turned to address the room at large.

‘Bosco Maximuke has confessed to the murders of Victor Belov and Kendrick Crichton.’

There were murmurs of surprise and relief, then a bright-sounding, ‘That’s handy,’ from Dave Davidson.

‘He’s lying,’ Logan said, puncturing the bubble of excitement before it had a chance to expand any further. ‘Which means we still don’t know who did actually kill them.’

‘I’ve been thinking about that, boss,’ Tyler said.

‘I should fucking hope so, son,’ Logan replied. ‘Given that’s the entire point of your job.’

‘What if Victor Belov killed Kendrick Crichton?’

Logan rubbed at his forehead again. The headache was a full-blown blinder now. They should be past this sort of speculation. They should havesomethingmore concrete by now.

‘What ifsdon’t help us, Tyler. If you’ve got a theory, find me something to back it up.’ He aimed the next at the room at large. ‘What about the brothers? The Belovs? We caught the bastards yet?’

The answer came as an awkward silence, and a few furtive glances.

‘Joe Robertson?’ Logan asked. It came out like a sigh. Like he already knew.

‘I’m, eh, I’m just checking in now,’ Sergeant Fleck said. He pointed to his radio, like it was proof. ‘Just waiting for an update.’

Nothing.

They had nothing.

Logan faced the board, hands on his hips, searching for something, for anything that might move the investigation on, however incrementally.

Kendrick Crichton had no family. Neighbours had heard nothing except the dog.

The dog.

The hair in the back of Victor Belov’s car.

That was something. A thread to pull on.

The men were already connected through the drug trade—allegedly, at least, given that CID had never been able to pin anything on either of them.

If the hair in the back of Victor’s car matched Kendrick Crichton’s dog, then…

Then what? It wasn’t like the dog could have slit his throat, and Kendrick himself had been busy dripping down the walls of his kitchen at the time of Victor’s death.

So, even if there was a connection between them, would it even mean anything?

Unless…

‘What if the connection is the thing?’

There was a beat of silence before Ben chimed in.

‘Eh?’

‘Sorry, thinking out loud,’ Logan said. He ran a hand down his face. ‘And I’m not even sure what I’m thinking. What if they weren’t targeted as individuals. What if the connection between them is the reason they’re dead?’

‘The drugs?’ Sinead asked. She glanced around for support. ‘I mean, we suspected that, didn’t we?’

‘Not the drugs. Or… I don’t know. Maybe,’ Logan said.