Tooth for a Tooth (Di Gilchrist 3)

digging in my handbag for a fag.’
    ‘Then what?’
    ‘Jim drove off.’
    ‘Did he not get out of the car?’
    ‘No.’
    Gilchrist raked his hair, fought off an image of his brother lying on the side of the street, blood draining along the gutter in red waves. If either of them had taken a look, could they have saved Jack’s life? ‘What were you thinking of?’ he said. ‘Your boyfriend had just killed someone and the next thing—’
    ‘It wasn’t like that.’
    The snap in her voice coincided with the click of the front door. Gilchrist held his breath, like a lover caught in the act. He felt, more than heard, Rabbie walk the length of the hall, and waited until the kitchen door closed. ‘What was it like, then?’ he asked.
    Linda’s fingers gripped her wheelchair, worked the rims of the wheels, wriggled it around until she faced Gilchrist head on. ‘I didn’t know he’d run over someone—’
    ‘I thought you’d—’
    ‘Let me finish.’
    Gilchrist waited while her fingers relaxed their grip. He waited while her eyes welled and tears blinked free.
    ‘I’ve thought about that night for years,’ she began. ‘The older you get the more aware you become of your own mortality. And here I am, glued to this chair, waiting to die.’
    Gilchrist struggled to contain his anger. ‘Jack would have been fifty-four next year,’ he growled.
    Like a wind uncurling a folded rag, her face shifted. ‘Jack? You knew him?’
    ‘He was my brother.’
    She held his gaze for a long moment, then looked away, defeated. ‘I never knew,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry. So sorry.’
    ‘Tell me what you remember.’
    ‘Jim told me he’d hit a dog.’
    ‘What kind of dog?’
    ‘What difference did it make? A dog’s a dog. He said it was OK, that it just got up and ran away.’
    ‘And you believed him?’
    ‘Why wouldn’t I? I never saw what happened.’
    ‘A right hard thump, you said.’
    ‘I just thought it was a dog. A big dog.’
    ‘He looked scared, you said. After hitting a dog?’
    ‘But only for a wee while. That’s what Jim was like.’
    ‘But you found out later.’ A statement, not a question.
    She gripped the wheel rims and tugged. ‘I heard about the accident on the telly the following week. But I never saw Jim again.’
    ‘Didn’t you speak to him about it?’
    ‘No.’ She stared through the window again. Clouds curled across a sky as grey as a roadside gutter, and he caught another glimpse of his brother’s face. ‘I knew something was up,’ she whispered. ‘All night he’d been talking about doing it. That’s all he wanted. He couldn’t have given a toss if I was legless or unconscious. All he wanted was a shag.’ She backed her wheelchair away from him, as if to distance herself from the memory. ‘But he said nothing after the accident, just drove me home and dropped me off without so much as a goodnight grope.’ She worked the wheels of her chair so that she faced the window full on. ‘But he did say one final thing.’
    Gilchrist stared at her. If she lied, he would know it.
    ‘He said, if anyone ever asks, tell them it was a dog.’
    A dog
. Records had shown that Jack had died from loss of blood. The force of the hit had broken his knee and shattered his thigh, causing a bone fragment to slice his femoral artery. He could have been unconscious in a minute, dead in two. And James Matthew Fairclough had compared Jack’s life to nothing more than that of a dog.
    ‘Look,’ she said, and spun her chair away from the window, so that her back was to him. ‘I’ve told you all I know. Please, Mr Gilchrist, will you leave it at that?’
    ‘Any problems?’
    Gilchrist turned at the sound of Rabbie’s growl and, from the glaring eyes and tight lips, caught a glimpse of the wild beast that could be a drunken Rabbie.
    ‘Mr Gilchrist is just leaving, Rabbie. Aren’t you, Mr Gilchrist?’
    ‘I would like an answer to one final question,’ he said.
    ‘Can you no hear the woman?’ Rabbie brushed past and stood between Gilchrist and his sister.
    Gilchrist waited while Linda shuffled her wheelchair around to face him. Tears stained her cheeks.
    ‘I’m sorry, Mr Gilchrist. I should have done something about it before now. But I didn’t. And that is my regret.’
    ‘Can I ask why?’
    Rabbie stiffened. ‘Is that your final question?’
    ‘It could be.’
    Linda dabbed a shaking hand to her eyes. ‘Jim frightened me. It was as simple as that, Mr