A Dead Man Walking: A Scottish Murder Mystery (DCI Logan Crime Thrillers Book 18) by JD Kirk

Author:JD Kirk [Kirk, JD]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zertex Crime
Published: 2023-10-02T16:00:00+00:00

“Hold on! Wait! Listen!” Marcus Doyle stumbled to a stop halfway down a corridor and leaned a hand on the wall to stop himself falling over. His voice was a whisper. His eyes seemed to swell in their sockets as they scanned the shadows around him. “Can you feel that, Yvonne?”

At Marcus’s side, Yvonne wrung her hands together, the blood draining from her face.

“What is it, Marcus? What’s happening? What are you feeling?”

“C-cold,” Marcus hissed, his body shaking. “It’s s-so c-cold, Yvonne. Can’t you f-feel it? It’s suddenly gone so c-c-cold!”

Yvonne hugged herself and rubbed her arms, very much suggesting she was experiencing the same phenomenon, even as she shook her head in complete denial.

“No, Marcus. I don’t feel cold. I feel fine. The temperature’s normal.” She let out a gasp. “Wait! Could it be…”

“Oh! Yes! Oh. It’s from the other side, Yvonne,” Marcus croaked. He raised a trembling hand, then recoiled like the air itself had electrocuted him. “Oh! Oh, yes. Yes. That’s what it is. It’s definitely from the other side.”

“The other side?” Yvonne whispered. She appeared gobsmacked by the concept, as if she hadn’t had dozens of conversations not a million miles away from this one over the years. “Do you mean the spirit world?”

“They’re from the spirit realm, yes! From beyond the veil,” Marcus confirmed, the mysterious onset of cold now apparently forgotten. “But they’re stuck, Yvonne. They’re stuck here on this plane with us!”

Yvonne raised her voice as if she was talking to someone hard of hearing. “Can you hear them, Marcus? What are they saying?”

Marcus’s eyes had closed now. He screwed his face up, his head jerking forward and back like he was some semi-aquatic bird struggling to swallow a whole live fish.

“Oh. No. No, no. Oh, no, no, Yvonne. No. You mustn’t. You mustn’t ask that! You mustn’t!”

“What’s happening, Marcus? What are they saying?” Yvonne whispered. She put a steadying hand on his arm, then craned her neck to address the ceiling above her. “What do you want, spirits? Why are you here? Can you hear me? What do you want of us?”

“They can hear you, Yvonne. They can hear you,” Marcus said, his voice a dry scrape at the back of his throat. He shook his head violently, his eyes still shut. “No. Don’t. You can’t. Please, don’t.”

“What are they saying, Marcus? What’s happening?”

“They’re saying…”

“What are they saying, Marcus? Tell us what they’re saying. What do they say?”

“They’re saying…” Marcus’s eyes jerked open. His mouth twisted into a sneer. “Slut!” he squealed. “That’s what you are! Dirty little slut! Dirty, dirty little slut!”

Yvonne stepped back, a hand flying to her mouth. “Marcus? Marcus, is that you?! What’s happening, Marcus? Marcus, what’s happening?”

“Slut! Whore! Filthy, dirty whore!” her co-presenter cried in a voice that wasn’t quite his own.

And yet, still mostly his own.

“Slut, bitch, show us your tits, show us your tits!” he shrieked, jerking towards her with a look of demented glee etching itself into the lines of his face.

“Bloody hell, steady

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