Cold granite

39

Logan stood in the softly falling snow, watching the ambulance's lights flickering away into the distance. They'd taken Watson away: concussion, hypothermia, some nasty bruises and a couple of cracked ribs. She'd get a tetanus jab for the bites. Nothing to worry about, said the paramedic. Not when you thought about what could have happened…

Logan clambered into the pool car he'd liberated from the FHQ car park, turned the engine over and the heaters up full pelt. He let his head sink forward onto the steering wheel and groaned. WPC Jackie Watson and Jamie McCreath were on their way to hospital and the Bastard Simon Rennie was already there. But Martin Strichen was dead and so was his mother…'

He looked up just in time to see an expensive car pull in. Two long, elegantly-clad legs swung out of the driver's seat and into the snow. The pathologist was here. Logan felt his heart sink even further.

Isobel MacAlister was dressed in some sort of Bond-Girl winter outfit, all camelskin and fur. And the worst thing was, it suited her.

Working a stray hair back under her fur hat she popped the boot and pulled out her medical bag.

Isobel and Miller

Up a tree