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 Wren saluted, he heard the door of his father’s car slam shut.
‘Dad’s outside, Edgar.’
‘Hang up and make no mention of this top-secret telephone call.’
Wren hung up and sat in the armchair, listening to his father opening the front door.
‘Wren? Wren?’
‘Here, Dad…’
His father appeared in the doorway.
‘Why haven’t you put some lights on? You’re sitting in the dark.’
His father put on the light in the hallway and in the front room.
‘Anything happening?’
‘No,’ replied Wren.
‘Any callers?’
‘No. Your big sister didn’t show.’
‘What have you been doing?’
‘Nothing. I didn’t notice.’
‘You didn’t notice what?’
‘That it had all gone so very dark.’
81
6.38 pm
Detective Chief Inspector Eve Clay looked at herself closely in the mirror of the female toilet adjacent to the incident room in Trinity Road police station and, dimming the light, saw herself as the image she had constructed of Francesca Christie.
Blonde. Pale skin. Pinky-red lipstick, black eyelashes. A cosmetic version of a different woman.
She turned her back on the mirror and faced the closed cubicle doors.
Hi, I’m Sally Haydn. I’m a woman with a lot to offer the right kind of man who I can make precious memories with and who wants to make dreams come true…
The words of Riley’s fake profile ran through her head like firestorms.
‘Jesus…’
She turned back to the mirror and said, ‘I love nothing more than sitting in front of a roaring log fire with a glass of wine and some romantic music. I like long walks in the countryside, picnics and winter strolls on empty beaches.’
Clay heard The Ghoul’s voice on its call to Riley and it made her skin feel wet.
On my profile I said I was single. It seemed like… new to internet dating…
The Ghoul’s words span around her head.
The truth is… wife died… on my own… terribly, terribly lonely…
She turned up the dimmer switch and looked beneath the coating of make-up, stared into her own eyes, picked out who she really was, the last thing The Ghoul wanted.
Clay opened her bag, took out the Glock handgun she had signed for and double-checked it was fully loaded.
On the corridor outside the ladies’ toilet, footsteps approached and she slipped the gun back inside her bag.
‘Eve?’ Riley’s voice drifted through the wooden door.
‘Come in, Gina. I’m kind of decent. I guess.’
Riley opened the door and, stepping inside, looked at Clay with a mixture of amazement and amusement.
‘You really suit being a blonde,’ said Riley.
‘No, I don’t. Being blonde in this neck of the woods gets your face torn off and your head scalped. I can’t wait to go back to brunette.’
Riley looked Clay up and down.
‘Well, how do I look?’ asked Clay.
‘You look the part.’
Heavy rain fell on the building.