Too Soon a Death: A Scottish mystery where cosy crime meets tartan noir: Borders Mysteries Book 2 by Janet O'Kane

blood, but what’s hard to bear is the suffering that’s sometimes revealed.’
    ‘The injuries on his face suggested he’d been beaten up a few hours before he died.’
    ‘That was the least of it.’
    Seeing the policeman’s clenched fists, Zoe wondered if this was in response to the fate of the boy or if it indicated he was fighting the urge to tell her more. She knew from experience that silence often trumped questions when dealing with someone holding back, so she waited. Eventually, the words spilled out of him.
    ‘He’d endured weeks, perhaps months, of physical abuse. What we couldn’t see down at the riverside were cigarette burns all over his body, broken ribs and . . . worse.’
    Still Zoe remained silent. The poor man needed to speak about this; it was obviously eating him up. He could hardly go home and talk it through with his wife.
    ‘The injuries to his palms were burns, and the pathologist found bruising on his wrists. That boy’s hands had been put against something very hot, like a cooker hob, and held there.’ Trent paused and took a deep breath. ‘He’d been sexually assaulted too. Repeatedly.’
    They stared wordlessly at each other, united in their horror, then Trent asked if Zoe wanted to sit down. She shook her head, not annoyed with his attentiveness but still trying to take in what he’d just told her.
    ‘I think you should. You’ve gone very pale.’
    She allowed him to take her arm and guide her back into a chair where she sat hugging her bump. Of all the things she’d become involved with over the past year, this felt the most shocking. Could Trent be right? Was it affecting her so badly because she was pregnant?
    The policeman took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.’
    Zoe leaned back in her chair, trying to look more composed than she felt. ‘I’m fine, really. If it’s any consolation, you’ve managed to convey the seriousness of the situation far more effectively than DCI Mather’s evasion ever could. You’re dealing with sex-traffickers, aren’t you? People think girls are the only victims but as I found out when I did some voluntary work before coming here, that’s not always the case.’
    ‘It’s one possibility, yes. We’re working with the Human Traffic and International Unit who know a lot more than we do on the subject.’
    ‘Now you’ve told me this much, will you share how he died?’
    ‘You’re a bit of a chancer on the quiet, aren’t you, Doctor?’ Trent said, yet he must have realised he’d gone past the point of no return. ‘They think he was electrocuted, although a specialist’s coming over from Glasgow to confirm it. And that’s positively the last bit of information you’re getting out of me. I must go.’
    Zoe walked him to the health centre’s front door. Just before leaving he said, ‘We’re making none of this public, except for the injuries to his hands.’
    ‘I’m a doctor, Sergeant. None of it will go any further.’
    Trent looked cheerful as he left, obviously believing his mission to curb her curiosity about the boy’s death had been a success. And while common sense told Zoe he was right to warn her off, deep down she knew his only achievement—apart from revealing a sensitivity she hadn’t seen before—had been to make her even more determined to find out what had happened to the dead boy.
    Ara. His name was Ara.
     

TEN
    Someone, she’d forgotten who, once told Zoe that now she was living in Scotland she should never let the weather put her off doing something, because if they all did this, the country would grind to a halt. Judging by Margaret’s reaction to the news that she planned to visit a garden centre in Kelso on Thursday afternoon instead of going home and putting her feet up, this advice hadn’t come from her.
    ‘It’s far too hot out there, Doctor Zoe.’
    ‘If I overheat I promise to sit down for a while in the cafe with an iced