Kill Me Twice: Rosie Gilmour 7 (35 page)

‘Yeah. Afraid so. Positive identification. One of the officers who worked on the beating he got that day flagged it up when the news came in. It was just another dead junkie for our books, then he suddenly said he recognized the name. It’s him, all right. I’m sorry. I know how you get close to these things.’

Rosie pulled into the side of the road and sat, feeling numb.

‘You there, sweetheart?’

‘Yeah.’ She swallowed. ‘Can’t believe this. I have to go. If you get any more information on it, give me a shout, Don.’

Rosie stared out of the windscreen, trying to work out what had happened. Poor Mitch. Images flooded into her mind of their first meeting. Mitch trying to be cocky,
promising he could deliver, drinking his Coca-Cola iced drink, desperate for his next hit. How he’d taken on the role of big brother to Dan. She’d really believed he and Dan could work through their addiction. But she should have known better. The problem with junkies who had stopped using for a while was that a single hit could overwhelm their system and shut everything down. She shook her head and punched in TJ’s number on her mobile.

‘TJ, it’s me. Listen. I’m going to be a bit late.’

‘What’s up? You stuck at the office? Shall I move the table back a bit? Are you all right?’

‘Yeah. Well, no. I’ll tell you later. I have to go and see someone. Be with you in an hour.’

Rosie turned round and drove back through the town towards Finnieston. Some things were better left alone, she’d thought at Bridget’s funeral. And perhaps they were. If she hadn’t dug up Mitch, he never would have found Dan, and if she hadn’t found Dan, none of this would have come out. She wouldn’t have the story of the year, and Bella Mason would be just another celebrity who couldn’t take the heat. None of it was about winning, for Rosie. It was about the truth. But there were always losers when you shone the light in dark places. It wasn’t only the guilty who perished. Was it all worth it? Right now, she didn’t know.

She parked outside Dan’s flat and let out a deep sigh as she pressed the buzzer. She was relieved when she heard his voice.

‘Dan
it’s me. You all right?’

‘Aye, Rosie. I’m just on my own,’ Dan breezed. ‘Mitch went out a couple of hours ago to meet his cousin up from England. He’s not back yet. I said we’d go out and get a pizza – celebrate. So I’m all ready. I’ve got my new shirt on. Come on up.’

The door buzzed and clicked open, and Rosie walked in, her legs as heavy as her heart as she climbed the stairs. She wasn’t a counsellor. She was a journalist, and her job was done. She should walk away right now, she told herself. But she didn’t.