Page 165 of Beautiful Scars

She smiles, and then laughs as she looks away. “God. It’s a good thing you’re handsome because you really are stupid.”

What am I missing?

“Everything I’ve done has been to protect her!” Her voice quakes on the edge of breaking. “That accident you attempted to stage? There was a reason that turned into a burglary and Meisie was safe and recovering at home and not the center of a missing person manhunt, with all the press and attention that would involve.”

“Bullshit,” I tell her. “I call bullshit. You could have stopped me at any point. All you had to do was go back on your bill.”

She shakes her head. “Doing that would have lost me the support of the party, and in turn, my position. I’d have been relegated to a lowly politician. Do you thinklowly politicianscan pull strings at the border? Keep tabs on who is entering and exiting the country?”

I think back to all our interactions.

Has she been playing me?

Or is she playing me now?

That’s the thing with politicians, they’re trained to do shit like this in the same way criminals are trained to use their fists. I’m a master at covering up a mess, hiding bodies, cleaning a crime scene. A politician doesn’t just cover it up and hide it, they make you doubt the thing even existed in the first place.

But I can’t see her as anything other than the cold and callous empty excuse for a mother I’ve come to know.

She didn’t care.

I stare at her, trying to find some hint that I’m wrong. That she cared.

“Give me the address. I’ll take care of him. Get Meisie back.” The last is a lie—if she confuses ‘back’ with ‘back to you’—but I’m hoping Helen will consider it worth the risk. She knows what it is I’m offering.

A solution to both our problems.

She flicks her eyebrows, as if she’s thinking about it. “A deal with the devil.”

“Better the devil you know.”

Nails rap against the desk as she drags this out far longer than it has to. “No police,” she says. “No loose ends. No mess. You go there, you...deal withhim, and you bring my daughter home.”

“Gladly.”

I’ll go there the minute I leave. I’ll enjoy killing him. And I will bring Meisie back home.

Toourhome.

Helen opens a drawer and pulls out a piece of paper, jotting down what I assume is the address.

She slides it across the desk to me.

“If you fail,” she says, “or this ever gets out.” There’s a grim smile on her face as she stares at me. “I will have you thrown in prison. You’ll stay there until you die an old and lonely man choking on his own lungs. And if anyone ever thinks about giving you parole, or letting you see the light of day, I’ll have you certified insane and committed.”

I return her smile as I grab the note and put it in my pocket. “If I fail, I’ll hand myself in,mother.”

***

One of the best things about Edinburgh is the bus service. Ask anyone, they’ll tell you. People are embarrassingly proud of our buses. Probably a hundred routes, running like clockwork, every ten minutes out in the sticks and every two minutes in the city center.

Double deckers.

I’ve never used them myself, but I’ve met enough cunts who have to know that you plug your earphones in, you look out the window, and you watch people.

“I don’t like this, Kill,” Derek mutters.

I duck my head down, peering across the busy road and trying to see past the throng of tourists to where the door should be.