The Distant Echo Page 0,129

Then I plan to send my wife and kids somewhere safe. There's plenty of good Christians who live out in the wilds. Nobody's going to get near them."

"What about you?" Alex could feel himself becoming infected with Weird's suspicions.

Weird gave the old, familiar wolfish grin. "I'm going on retreat. Congregations understand that those who minister to them have to go into the wilderness from time to time to reestablish contact with their spirituality. So that's what I'll be doing. The great thing about a TV ministry is that you can make a video wherever you happen to be. So my flock won't forget me while I'm gone."

"You can't hide forever, though. Sooner or later, you're going to have to go home."

Weird nodded. "I know that. But I'm not going to sit on my hands, Alex. As soon as I get myself and my family out of the firing line, I'm going to hire a private detective and find out just who sent that wreath to Ziggy's funeral. Because when I know that, I'll know who I have to look out for."

Alex exhaled sharply. "You've got this all worked out, haven't you?"

"The more I thought about that first wreath, the more I wondered. And God helps those who help themselves, so I made a plan. Just in case." Weird put a hand on Alex's arm. "Alex, I suggest you do the same. You have more than yourself to consider now." Weird pulled Alex into a hug. "Take care of yourself."

"Very bloody touching," a voice said harshly.

Weird pulled away and swung around. At first he couldn't place the grim-faced man glowering at him and Alex. Then memory erased the years and he was back outside the Lammas Bar, terrified and hurting. "Brian Duff," Weird breathed.

Alex glanced from one to the other. "This is Rosie's brother?"

"Aye, that's right."

The confused emotions that had been tormenting Alex for days suddenly fused into anger. "Come to gloat, have you?"

"Poetic justice, isn't that what they call it? One murderous wee shite sees off another one. Aye, I came to gloat."

Alex lunged forward, stopped short by Weird's firm grip on his arm. "Leave it, Alex. Brian, none of us harmed a hair on Rosie's head. I know you need somebody to blame, but it wasn't one of us. You have to believe that."

"I don't have to believe anything of the kind." He spat on the ground. "I really hoped that the cops were going to nail one of you this time around. Since that's not going to happen, this is the next best thing."

"Of course it's not going to happen. We never touched your sister, and the DNA evidence will prove that," Alex shouted.

Duff snorted. "What DNA evidence? Those fucking idiots have lost the DNA evidence."

Alex's mouth fell open. "What?" he whispered.

"You heard. So you're still safe from the long arm of the law." His lip curled in a sneer. "Didnae save your pal, though, did it?" He turned on his heel and strode off without a backward glance.

Weird shook his head slowly. "You believe him?"

"Why would he lie?" Alex sighed. "I really thought we might finally be in the clear, you know? How could they be so incompetent? How could they lose the one bit of evidence that might have put an end to all this shit?" He waved an arm toward the wreath.

"You're surprised? They hardly covered themselves with glory first time around. Why should this be any different?" Weird tugged at the collar of his coat. "Alex, I'm sorry but I need to head off." They shook hands. "I'll be in touch."

Alex stood rooted to the spot, stunned by the speed at which his world had turned upside down. If Brian Duff was right, was that the reason for those ominous wreaths? And if so, would the nightmare ever end while he and Weird were still alive?

Graham Macfadyen sat in his car and watched. The wreaths had been a master stroke. It paid to make the most of every opportunity. He hadn't been in Seattle to see the effect of the first one, but there was no question that Mackie and Gilbey had got the message this time. And that meant that there was a message to get. Innocent men wouldn't have turned a hair at such a reminder.

Seeing their reaction almost made up for the nauseating parade of hypocrisy he'd had to sit through inside the crematorium. It had been obvious that the minister hadn't known David Kerr in life, so it wasn't surprising

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