Chapters (156)
- A DATE WITH DEATH
- Also by Mark Roberts
- A Date With Death
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- The Past
- 1977
- Day OneWednesday, 1st December 2021CatoptrophobiaFear of mirrors
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- The Past
- 1979
- Day TwoThursday, 2nd December 2021OneirophobiaFear of dreams
- 27
- 28
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- 42
- 43
- 44
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- The Past
- 1980
- Day ThreeFriday, 3rd December 2021MonophobiaFear of being alone
- 53
- 54
- 55
- 56
- 57
- 58
- 59
- 60
- 61
- 62
- 63
- 64
- 65
- 66
- 67
- 68
- 69
- 70
- 71
- 72
- 73
- 74
- 75
- 76
- 77
- 78
- 79
- 80
- 81
- 82
- 83
- 84
- 85
- 86
- 87
- 88
- 89
- 90
- 91
- 92
- 93
- 94
- 95
- 96
- 97
- 98
- The Past
- 1982
- Day FourSaturday, 4th December 2021ThanatophobiaFear of Death
- 99
- 100
- 101
- 102
- 103
- 104
- 105
- 106
- 107
- 108
- 109
- 110
- 111
- 112
- 113
- 114
- 115
- 116
- 117
- 118
- 119
- 120
- 121
- 122
- 123
- 124
- 125
- 126
- 127
- 128
- 129
- 130
- 131
- 132
- 133
- 134
- 135
- 136
- 137
- About the Author
- An Invitation from the Publisher
As she drove past the empty industrial units of Sefton Street to her left and the crowded bars overlooking the river to her right, she had willed someone to rescue her from her new-found hell. No one did.
Francesca looked into the rear-view mirror, saw the glinting of The Ghoul’s eyes, sensed the joyous smile as they danced in the dark and drank in her desperation.
The police car. Jericho Lane. Alone and powerless with The Ghoul.
There was the absolute darkness of the boot of The Ghoul’s car, the tasteless drug that knocked her out and after that, nothing.
‘Jesus, where am I?’ she whispered, the flickering red light above her head invading her eyes and disorientating her ragged senses.
A dot of light appeared in the darkness within her, a dot of light that grew a little bigger with each breath she took. And she knew as it expanded that it was recent memory, before she was plunged into the nightmare of the moment she was living in.
She closed her eyes and saw a window that was familiar to her and a patchy, fractured view on to Allerton Road with the sound of a police helicopter overhead, flying in her direction. There was a desk. The door to the office closed for privacy. She was nervous in Norma Maguire’s office, she was always nervous around Norma.
She sat opposite Norma, who handed her a card file. She opened it and saw a record of her excursions on to Pebbles On The Beach. She closed the cover.
Words were exchanged and Norma was acting mysteriously. She wheeled herself around so that she could look out of the window.
‘I’m careful,’ she had said to Norma.
Words poured from Norma’s mouth.
‘I suppose the woman whose body was washed up in Warrington in the summer would have said she was careful too… you look puzzled. You didn’t hear about it?’
‘No.’
‘He scalped her and took the skin from her face. According to the police, she met him on an internet dating site.’
The helicopter blades chopped the air, a stolen car screamed in a trail of chaos.
‘I heard a report on Radio Merseyside this morning on my way in to work. There’s another body been found closer to home. Otterspool Promenade.’
She opened her eyes, heard footsteps above her head and two voices, arguing, their words indistinct, their mutual tone furious.
Somewhere else in the building above, a televison was playing.
The full weight of Norma Maguire’s warning hit her.
She touched her face and hair.
A scream built up inside Francesca Christie. She pressed her face into the stinking, wet mattress and screamed until all she had left in her was the air she needed to breathe.