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
‘What did you hear?’
‘Silence. Birdsong. The rain.’
Cole watched Wren shrinking inside himself, the front of his mind closing down. He threw him a line.
‘What are you thinking, Wren?’
‘I don’t know.’
Wren closed his eyes, stuck his thumbs in his ears and double-sealed his lips with his index fingers.
‘I’m sorry, Wren, but Edgar McKee is not your friend.’ Cole looked at Wren’s dad and Mr Robson. ‘I don’t think there’s much more that I can do to help Wren at this point. I’m closing this interview. I’m sorry, Wren. You’re going to have to go back to your cell.’
87
8.53 pm
As Clay drove up the ramp and onto the fourth floor of the multi-storey car park, she turned her headlights off and parked at a space overlooking the Royal.
She waited.
Clay looked into the shadows to her left but couldn’t make out anything other than darkness.
She turned on her reverse lights and looked over her shoulder where the red glow oozed into the gloom.
Clay gripped the Glock in her hand as she stepped out of the car, moving sideways and at a defensive angle towards the wall near the front of her car.
Below, at the edge of her vision, traffic flowed in either direction at the ground level of the multi-storey car park.
She turned to face the darkness and sensed that hers was the only car on the fourth floor.
‘Geoff? Are you there, Geoff?’
Silence.
Does this sound crazy? Words from the telephone conversation he’d had with Riley echoed from her memory and breathed through the cold spaces of the car park. I feel like we’ve made a connection already. A real connection.
Silence.
She took the first step into the shadows, heard her footstep echo from the low concrete ceiling.
Listening hard, Clay heard breathing, tried to locate its source and realised it was her own.
‘Geoff?’
This time a little louder as the gun in her hand became coated with a film of sweat from her palm.
She took three or four cautious steps closer to the red light that leaked from the back of her car.
Beyond the doors leading up to the level, footsteps rose up the concrete staircase.
Taking the Glock from her coat pocket, she moved at speed to the doorway leading onto the fourth level concealing herself at the side of the entrance.
The footsteps came closer and closer and arrived at the fourth floor.
They stopped and she pointed the gun at the doors.
The footsteps carried on towards the fifth level.
‘Geoff? I’ve come to support you. If you don’t reply to me, I’ll have to get back into my car and drive away. Please, Geoff, talk to me. I want to help you.’