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
Francesca looked at the nose, saw that the skin beneath the nostrils rose and fell slightly with each breath.
‘Look at me…’
The skin around the mouth continued to move in the silence that followed the husky, whispered instruction.
Francesca closed her eyes, wanted the person on the mattress to disappear into thin air.
‘Look at me…’
Francesca opened her eyes and drew in a breath to stop herself from crying out at the shock of the close proximity of the face to hers.
She looked down at the line of the chin. There appeared to be a scar running along the jawline. The hair hung down on to Francesca’s face.
The eyes were close enough now for the eyelashes to brush against hers.
The eyes glinted and Francesca had a flashback to the eyes in the rear-view mirror of her car as she drove away from the Albert Dock with a blade at her throat and a maniac at her back.
She felt its lips pressing against hers and a tongue sinking into her mouth, lapping against her taste buds.
Francesca found a piece of herself on the ceiling and looked down at the scene below.
She was being passionately kissed by a young blonde woman who sounded like an animal.
Francesca sank down into her body and pressed a hand into its hair.
Chemicals flooded her nose and throat as it snatched her hand away and sat up.
The thing before her was wearing a mask. The mask shifted. It was made of skin and hair.
Everything became crystal clear.
The thing stood up.
‘Look at me!’
It was wearing the scalp and face of a dead woman.
Francesca held her breath.
‘Look at me…’
It turned and walked towards the door, turned off the light and disappeared into the room next door.
The eyes beneath the skin seared her mind.
In pitch darkness, Francesca Christie screamed as the thing next door wept with joy.
96
11.18 pm
‘I just called you on the off chance you’d be free,’ said
Thomas.
Clay looked around the incident room, saw that Gina Riley was busy skipping between two laptops.
‘It’s lovely to hear from you, Thomas.’
‘I wanted to hear your voice before I go to bed.’ She could hear the relief in his voice.
She made an involuntary noise, a sigh that could have passed for a solitary laugh. ‘I so wish I was going there with you, love. How’s Philip?’
‘He’s fine. He didn’t quite make it to the end of the second half of the match. I had to carry him to bed.’
The tender image softened the sharp edges of the day’s disappointments, frustrations and fears.
‘How’s it going there?’