Chapter Four

Liam's hands shook as he elapsed a tight home of the tumbler glass; Logan had assured him he needed a solid drink to help with the shock seeing your first dead body was always a shock to the system.

The thing was that Liam hadn't signed up for that, that was what he found so unfair.

"At least it wasn't you out there." Logan shrugged, trying to reassure her friends.

"Yeah, thanks for that, you're not helping me." Liam tried to smile, but it was impossible every time he closed his eyes, he saw the man's body lying on the ground, blood pouring from his head.

"He was dead, dead, just totally dead," Liam said, staring ahead of himself, still shaking.

"Yeah, I know." Logan rolled her eyes. "I saw it too."

"Dead."

"Bloody hell," Logan complained, she'd never had a target die on her before, at least of all end up shot to death while they were investigating them, but there was always a first time for everything. "What did I tell you? This was going to be trouble."

"Shot," Liam said, staring into space ahead of him.

"Yeah, I know."

"That guy had a gun."

Logan pursed her lips; why would a man who had just shot someone be using that same gun to go to an appointment with a sex worker? It didn't make any sense at all.

"Looks like we have company," Liam muttered under his breath, nodding towards the entrance.

Logan followed her friend's gaze, and her eyes landed on the unmistakably imposing figure of DCI O'Connor, tall and slim, her long blonde hair was pulled up in a ponytail neatly. For fuck's sake, of course, they send her.

Her severe cheekbones always made her look like she was angry. In Logan's experience, she was mostly angry. The Private detective rolled her eyes and leaned back further against the bar as the woman's ice-cold blue eyes landed on her.

"Well, well, look who it is. Tell me, Luther, why is it whenever there is trouble, you're around." Roisin purred out with her familiar Irish accent.

"Why is it whenever I turn around, you're there." Logan shrugged, unaffected by the insinuation the blonde had made.

Liam's dark brown eyes still were wide as he took big sips of his drink, his hands shaking the glass in his mind's eye. He could even see the body; he could still feel the body underneath him. It chilled him to his core. He'd prefer to go through another visit to the gynecologist than that, and Liam hated those appointments so much he was preparing to end them for good.

Roisin turned her attention back to Logan, arching her eyebrow expectedly. "Why are you here?"

"I fell over a dead man!" Liam replied, his arms flying wildly in the air, shrinking back when the detective glared at him. "Sorry."

Logan rolled her eyes. "Your stiff on the golf course was our mark; wife thought he was playing away. Turns out the dude was paying for it."

"Subtly put Logan," Liam whispered over her shoulder.

How else was she supposed to address this, the man she had been employed to track and follow had turned up dead—a bullet hole in the center of his forehead.

"Why don't you run along, go, and give your statement to Sergeant Prosser," Roisin told Liam, who nodded and grimly walked towards the balding man who sat at the other side of the room a big glass of beer next to him, Liam told himself not to bring that up.

He didn't need more trouble coming his way.

"Does that mean you're interrogating me, officer?" Logan smirked, her voice turning honey thick.

Roisin rolled her eyes unamused. "Murder is no joke, Luther."

"You know, I remember you used to scream my name out so loudly you made the neighbors deaf." Logan smugly smirked, moving closer to the blonde woman. "You used to scream it a lot, actually."

"I used to like NSync. We all make mistakes." Roisin muttered.

Logan let out a loud gasp. "You said you hated them, and Backstreet Boys were the best."

"I lied to get you to sleep with me." Roisin shrugged, "Now spill it."

"I feel lied to." Logan gasped.

"You'll get over it, come on tell me what your ass was doing in that wood."

"Doesn't it get boring to go all Superman on my ass; you are aware I am not Lex Luthor, right?" Logan laughed. "Our names aren't even spelled the same his is an o mine is an e Scottish you see, oh, and he is bald." Logan recited sweetly, waving her index finger in the air, pointing at her beautiful head of thick brunette hair.

"Cut the crap, how did you end up finding the victim?" The blonde woman asked impatiently, her eyes hitting hard; there was a part in Logan's brain that always grew sad when those harsh, fresh pools of blue pierced her with their gaze, they'd been soft once, and she'd looked at Logan with the kind of love that the PI had only dreamed of.

Maybe it was all a beautiful dream, it never happened, but one night Logan fell asleep and dreamed of endless nights wrapped in the hot embrace of a fiery Irish blonde.

Logan shook her head to clear away the disturbing images. "The dead dude was the husband of our client; she wanted us to find out if he was cheating."

"And," Roisin asked.

"And she may never know, Liam fell head over heels for this guy." Logan chuckled at her own joke. "Like, he literally fell over him, you should have seen his face."

"Everything is such a joke." Roisin sighed, rolling her eyes. "Give your witness statement to my Sergeant before you leave, we have your prints."

"Well, yeah, I got to go anyway. I have a date. I don't want to keep her waiting." Logan regretted her immature words as soon as they left her mouth, but her stubbornness forbade her to apologize.

The blonde woman was about to move away when Logan's words hit her, she turned back and watched her for a few seconds, her expression blank, and Logan hated she couldn't read what she was thinking; there had been a time when she could read her like a book.

"We'll be done before your date," Roisin replied before walking away.

Logan watched her walk away unaffected by the news she had a date, Logan's dark eyebrows furrowed as she pouted her lips melded together as they protrude outwards as though she were a little child rather than a grown adult. She'd wanted a reaction something or anything from the blonde woman; the nothing she got was disappointing.

Logan flipped around on her heels. Liam was busy reciting his tale of terror to the sergeant whose eyes were wide open as Liam regaled him with his horror, Logan had to give it to her friend. He always did know how to tell a tall tale. As teenagers, Liam was still the one to get all their friends screaming in fear at their sleepovers.

Logan was used to it now; she's seen her own horrors far worse than what Liam had stumbled upon, but she understood why a noob like Liam would be so flustered and disturbed by the sight of a dead body.

The brunette's eyes turned back to the room around her. As she had expected a posh playhouse, the clubhouse would be wooden and beige, trophies, and pictures lined the walls cluttering the surroundings with their presence. The whole clubhouse was in shock. Everyone had been forbidden to leave until every statement had been taken by the police, including Logan.

Thank fuck, I don't have to tell the grieving widow. Logan breathed a sigh of relief; she had always hated having to be the bearer of such horrible lousy news.

There was a vast difference between telling someone their spouse is cheating to inform a person their loved one has died, and worse still, telling them they had been murdered without looking affected. She'd never mastered that.

Bottom and Titania are not here.

Logan narrowed her eyes as she looked around, suddenly realizing people were missing, the woman and the man with the gun they had stumbled upon in the wood. They were not anywhere to be seen.

"You, Sergeant Foster," Logan said casually as she strutted towards the table the policeman and Liam were both sitting at.

"It's Prosser."

"Whatever, you got two people missing some posh chick and a farmer with a shotgun. They aren't here, but we saw them in the woods moments before Liam stumbled on the stiff," Logan said, pulling out her cell phone and checking the messages she had missed.

2 messages from Sadie. Does that woman never shut up?

Liam felt his stomach churn; if that farmer had been the killer, then they had come very close to an early end, especially with Logan antagonizing him. "He could have killed us!"

"Calm down, it wasn't him we would have heard the gunshot, whoever shot Larry had a silencer." Logan placed her hand on her friend's shoulder to comfort him. She had her fun; it would be cruel to tease him anymore.

"You say he had a shotgun, was it licensed?" The police officer asked, deep groves appearing in his forehead.

"I didn't stop to ask." Logan shrugged.

"The man looked like a farmer, so he shouldn't be too hard to find, are there any farms around here?" Logan tried to think back to if she had seen any as they arrived by car, but she drew a blank. "Dammit, it must have been roleplay."

Liam scratched his chin, feeling the first sprouting of stubble, nothing, and no one could take away the thrill that made him feel. He was going to grow the biggest beard anyone had ever seen and keep it for life.

"This took a weird turn," Liam muttered.