Tooth for a Tooth (Di Gilchrist 3)

back into her bag. ‘I’ll make you a deal,’ he said. ‘About the book. I’ll agree to it, on one condition. That you tell me the truth.’
    ‘Not even one teeny-weeny white lie?’
    He glared at her, annoyed that she would choose that moment to try to joke.
    ‘You’re serious?’
    Gilchrist gripped the steering wheel, tightened his fingers until his knuckles whitened. ‘I can drop you at your hotel if you’d like. Your choice.’
    She held up both hands in mock surrender. ‘The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.’
    Gilchrist jerked the wheel and overtook two cars, returning to the safety of the inside lane to the angry blare of a passing horn.
    ‘Of course, the truth doesn’t matter a damn if we’re both wrapped around a tree,’ she said, slapping both hands on the dashboard as Gilchrist pulled in hard behind a Transit van. ‘Either you slow down, or I’m going to have a cigarette. And
that’s
the truth.’
    Gilchrist eased his foot from the pedal, let some distance grow between his Merc and the Transit van. Gina was right, of course. After all these years, what was the point of rushing?
    ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Let’s have it. And I promise to tell you the
truth
.’
    He did not like her emphasis, as if she was mocking him. ‘Just how good a psychic are you?’ he asked, and found himself driving on in a heavy silence that had him thinking the truth was about to catch her out. Hedgerows, trees, walled fields, all passed by in blurred silence. Corners came and went. And still no response.
    He kept his speed at a steady fifty, determined to wait her out.
    ‘I believe in what I receive,’ she finally said.
    ‘That’s not what I asked.’
    ‘How can I answer?’ she said, then added, ‘Truthfully.’
    ‘I thought the question was straightforward.’
    ‘That shows how much you don’t know.’ She faced him. ‘I need a cigarette to think straight.’
    He depressed a button on the console and her window lowered. He stopped it halfway. ‘Start thinking straight,’ he said. ‘And flick your ash outside.’
    She tutted as she dug into her handbag, and a few moments later exhaled out the window. ‘I can’t explain the unexplainable,’ she said. ‘I can only tell you what I see, feel, or even hear.’ She took another draw. ‘After that, it’s all up to you. Maybe I should ask, How good are
you
at using the unexplainable? How far do you want to push when no one else believes you? How many resources do you want to use at the ridicule of others? That’s what happens. You either believe in what I tell you, or you don’t. But you’ll find most people don’t.’ She sucked in hard. In the dark of the car her cigarette glowed red.
    Gilchrist gritted his teeth. A few minutes earlier his plan had seemed unequivocal and clear. Now he was not so sure. ‘You still haven’t answered my question,’ he pressed.
    She took another draw, this time facing him as she exhaled. ‘The best.’
     
    The rust on the cigarette lighter had been descaled in places, the silver plating long corroded. Gilchrist remembered it looking as expensive as solid silver to his twelve-year-old eyes, shiny and gleaming, its perfection marred only by three nicks on its base. He ran his fingers over them, and an image of Jack cupping the lighter in his hands hit him with such clarity that he had to close his eyes.
    ‘Care to share your thoughts?’ Mackie said.
    Gilchrist shook his head. ‘You don’t want to know, Bert.’ He handed the lighter to Gina Belli, watched her finger it. ‘Anything?’ he asked.
    She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t be so goddamned dumb. It’s nothing like that.’ She turned the lighter over, touched the nicks he had described to her on the drive to Dundee. ‘I’d like to have a look at the cold-case files again.’
    ‘You’ve seen them before?’
    ‘When I thought I was going to need something to persuade you to let me do your biography.’
    Mackie said, ‘Would someone care to tell me what’s going on?’
    Gilchrist took Gina by the arm. ‘I’m about to find out,’ he said, and led her from the room.
    Back behind the wheel, Gilchrist said, ‘How did you get access to the cold-case files?’ But even as that question aired, he saw that with her high-profile police contacts in the States, she could probably gain access to cold-case files anywhere in the world. Even if you thought it was nothing more than witchcraft, what harm would it do to let a