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Her breathing altered, became shorter. She felt the corners of her mouth turning down and her whole head now seemed to be shivering out of control. More tears came. The shivers stopped suddenly, then instantly started again as she opened her eyes and held up her hands. Trish knew the streaks of blood were spotted by the others at once.

They were dark red smears moving slowly down her fingertips towards her palms. It took her some time to register the blood was actually on her hands -- nothing seemed real now -- but when she became aware of what she was looking at her mouth opened wide and her throat tightened. No sound came from her. As the girls stared at her everything felt like it was locked inside her.

Her mouth widened some more; she started to gag, wanted to be sick but nothing would come out except a noise. A shrill, desperate animal wail. The others stepped back. They watched Trish shaking as she screamed out. She stared at her hands, and felt her eyes widening at the sight of the fresh blood. The girls stared at each other, looked scared. One shrugged. Another ran to Trish, clamped arms around her. As her wailing turned to sobs Trish fell into her friend, weeping and shaking.

The young girl held her, trying to keep her steady on her feet but the pair were forced to slump onto the ground. The other two girls watched for a moment, then one of them pointed back up the alleyway. There was a large bin on wheels, a communal bin, a dumpster. A few moments earlier Trish had gone over there to drop off an empty bottle. She could tell that thoughts were passing between them: they were curious.

Truth Lies Bleeding

One of the girls started to walk; the other followed. She watched them go. Tried to claw out to them, pull them back. It was a large bin, almost as tall as they were. When they got up close they pointed to the bloody finger-streaks. The girls stood, unmoving.

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They reached out hands, raised the lid of the dumpster. Their breathing looked to have stilled as their thin arms pushed the black rubber lid back. The dark interior of the vault was exposed now. They drew closer, raised themselves on tiptoes. As they edged nearer the rim, Trish remembered the sweet smell that had come from inside. She knew it would take a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the bin, to make out the light and shade.

To piece together familiar shapes, in an unfamiliar setting. In the next few seconds the air filled with the screams of two more young girls; they were running from the alleyway.

ISBN 13: 9781505529159

He thought about pounding the wood panel, thought again, then gripped the handle and stomped in. Chief Superintendent Aileen Galloway, phone in hand, blasted some poor DC about the state of his handwriting in the mileage log for the new Cavaliers. She turned, keeping up her rant, and flagged him to sit down. It was multi-skilling, or man-management, something like that, he thought; something women were always better at than men.

Brennan walked over to the desk. It was immaculate.

Little rows of yellow Post-it notes lined up with geometric precision on the carefully stacked files. A set of pens, only two, and a photo-frame containing a picture of a smiling man and two perfect young children -- looked like a mortgage advertisement from an era before the banking crisis, before the ads had shifted towards images of cast-iron stability, more meat and potatoes, less gloss. Maybe it was the way he viewed them now; maybe everything had lost its gloss.

Brennan took out a Silk Cut. Not a real fag: these were for Saturday smokers and teenies who bought packs of ten for a sly puff between home ec and maths But something had to give. A lot of things had to give, thought Brennan. As he put the cigarette to his lips, the Chief Super hung up the phone.

She probably meant it.

Truth Lies Bleeding: A DI Rob Brennan novel (DI Rob Brennan series) (Volume 1)

He rolled the tip of the cig on his tongue, held schtum. He had no intention of lighting up; it was just a gambit, a needle for her. Galloway put her hands on her hips. She seemed to have him sussed -- a let-the-laddie-at-his-game look. She smiled, sat. For a moment Brennan stood before her.

Four teenagers find the mutilated corpse of a young girl stuffed into a dumpster in an Edinburgh alleyway. Who is she? Where did she come from? Who killed her and why? Above all, where is the baby to which she has obviously recently given birth? For small time Glasgow drug dealer, Stauner, life is sweet when he meets Monique. With free board and an unpaid servant at his beck and call, the daily trip to the bookies is his toughest chore. It could all be too good to be true, but the misogynist Gus Dury is back on the drink.

While in hospital after a hit-and-run accident, his best friend, Hod, asks him to investigate the ritual, on-campus hanging of an Edinburgh University student.

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The murder victim's mother is a high-profile actress, who h In a cold, windswept field on the outskirts of Edinburgh, lies the brutally mutilated body of a young woman. As DI Rob Brennan looks at the tangled mass of limbs and blood, he feels his heart freeze. Like Fiona Gow five years earlier, this girl has be Amidst illega Gus Dury once had a high-flying career as a journalist and a wife he adored.

But the road takes an unexpecte Still recovering from the harrowing case that ended his police career, Doug Michie returns to his boyhood home of Ayr on Scotland's wind-scarred west coast. He hopes to rebuild his shattered life, but the years have changed the birthplace of the poet Australia is the Lucky Country, and Joey Driscol knows it.

It's a far cry from his native Ireland, but he believes this is the place he and his wife can make a new life and forget the troubles of the past. And for a time, they do just that.