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
‘His name’s Robin Wren. He’s my son, and he’s on the autistic spectrum.’
Wren opened his eyes and saw the constable standing right in front of him in the place where his dad had been, looking like he’d just won the lottery.
‘What on earth is all this about?’ asked Wren.
‘Out of the car, Robin,’ said the constable.
Wren undid his safety belt and, getting out of the car, walked to the pavement.
‘You’re coming with me, Robin,’ said the constable.
‘I am?’
Wren burst into a sprint but, moments later, found himself face down on the pavement, rugby-tackled from behind. Pain flooded through his senses from his forehead where he’d landed on the ground. His hands were behind his back and the metal cuffs placed on his wrists pinched his flesh.
‘Ow! Owwwwww, you’re hurting me.’
Somehow or other, Wren found himself back on his feet, the constable holding his right arm.
‘Don’t even think about trying to run away from me, Robin,’ said the constable.
As he marched towards the front door of the police station, Wren looked over at his father and wondered why he was crying.
Wren spoke to his father and he replied, ‘I didn’t catch that, son. What did you say?’
His father’s footsteps followed him into the police station.
‘I want my mum, I want my mum, I want my mum.’
83
7.25 pm
In her mind, Detective Chief Inspector Eve Clay processed a string of macabre thoughts.
I am like Annie Boyd, and Amanda Winton, and Francesca Christie. I have come to meet a man I have never met before in my life. Through Riley, he told me his name is Geoff Campbell. This is a lie in a network of untruths that he has been peddling. If he succeeds in abducting me, if the operation goes horribly wrong, the next time I’m seen by another human being I will be dead, scalped, my face missing.
The twisted bottom line hit her with colossal force.
Clay looked at her watch as she walked along the shoulder of the River Mersey in the direction of the Albert Dock and the padlocked railings.
Hendricks walked towards her but looked directly ahead and she recognised another officer, whose name she didn’t know, lighting a cigarette as she leaned against the railings and laughed as the officer beside her cracked a joke.
A group of half-drunk young people dressed in Santa hats and costumes blocked her path as they headed for the Albert Dock, singing along with the Christmas music that blasted out from a loudspeaker inside a nearby pub.
As she came closer to the padlocked railings, Clay watched the coloured lights linking the lamp posts, swaying in the wind.
In her bag, her iPhone rang out. She found herself a pocket of space away from other people, opened her bag and took out the iPhone sitting next to the loaded Glock handgun.