Blind Eye by Stuart MacBride

across the threshold and started up the stairs. 'We'll just take a quick peek.'
Logan watched her disappear into the gloomy hallway. Swore. Then followed her. 'Still say this is a bad idea...'
Whoever the landlord was he hadn't wasted any money making the block of flats look homely. The stairwell and landings were bare concrete, the walls a cheap shade of builder's magnolia.
Rory's flat was right where the computer said it would be. The front door was hanging from a single hinge, wide open, exposing a hallway cluttered with broken furniture and crockery.
'That's it,' Logan dragged out his phone, 'I'm calling for backup.'
But Steel was already heading inside.
'Damn it.' He snuck in after her, mobile clamped to his ear, waiting for Control to pick up.
The hallway led onto a lounge that looked like a bomb-site. Everything was smashed. The small bedroom was the same, drawers torn from the bedside cabinets, their contents scattered about the place. A loose mosaic of Polaroids spilled from the upturned bed onto the floor - all little girls in their school uniforms. Albyn School, Robert Gordon's, Springbank Primary, Victoria Road, Hamilton... All these and many more. Rory seemed to like it best when they were running around the playground, especially if he could capture a flash of white pants.
Steel picked her way through the devastation to the window, looking out at the magpies and their collage of nappies and takeaway food containers. 'You know what I think? I think our Rory's nasty little habits finally caught up with him. Some outraged parent finds out there's a paedophile living next door and decides to do something about it.' She looked down at the Polaroids. 'Can't say I blame them.'
They searched the rest of the flat, but there was no sign of its owner. Or his battered body. The inspector found a brand-new half bottle of supermarket brandy lying on the carpet behind the broken front door. 'It's no' been touched... Better get a couple of uniforms over here sharpish. I want everyone in the building given the full Spanish Inquisition, and don't spare the thumbscrews.'
Logan took another look around the lounge. 'You'd think there'd be signs of a struggle.'
Steel pointed at the broken picture frames, the upturned sofa, the smashed CDs, the television set with a coffee table embedded in it. 'You're kidding, right?'
'No. You attack someone, they fight back, a couple of things get knocked over; broken. This place has been trashed. If they had Rory, why do all this? And why isn't there any blood?'
Shrug. 'Maybe... Well... How the hell am I supposed to know?'
'I think they broke in, but he wasn't here, so they took it out on the furniture. He comes home, sees the mess and does a runner.'
Steel groaned, rubbing at her eyes with nicotine-yellowed fingers. 'So now we've got a paedophile on the run. The sodding media are going to have a field day.'
'Look on the bright side, maybe he's lying dead in a ditch somewhere.'
BANG - the incident room door bounced off the wall and Finnie stormed in, face like a bad day in Chernobyl. 'Is this some sort of joke to you? Is it? Do you think it's funny , Inspector? Rory Simpson was a key witness in the Oedipus case, and you thought it'd be a giggle to let him get away!'
Steel didn't even look up from her copy of that morning's Aberdeen Examiner : 'D RUG V IOLENCE A T A N A LL T IME H IGH '.
'Morning, Andy.'
'Don't you "morning Andy" me.' Finnie thrust a finger in Logan's direction. 'And you: why haven't you been to see Dr Goulding yet?'
'Tomorrow afternoon, sir. He's been away at a conference in Birmingham.'
Steel put her paper down on the desk. 'Laz, why don't you go get the teas in, eh? Milk and two for the DCI here. Go on, run along like a good wee boy.'
Logan didn't need to be told twice; if there was going to be an explosion he wanted to be as far away as possible.
As soon as the door was closed behind him, the shouting started. He stood there for a minute, listening to Steel and Finnie having a go