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
‘I’m going to suspend the interview now,’ said Clay. ‘Look at the list. The last six?’
‘Yes. The last six to leave.’
‘I’m asking you again – would you describe yourself as a truthful person, Norma?’
Norma looked at Clay with the beginnings of bush fires in her eyes.
‘Yes.’
‘You need to have a seriously candid talk with your solicitor, Norma.’ Clay tapped the list of names. ‘You’re a liar,’ said Clay. ‘Watch this space. There’s much, much more to come.’
112
7.51 am
As Sergeant Harris escorted Norma Maguire from the interview suite, Clay’s iPhone beeped with an incoming message.
Mason sent you a picture.
She opened it. There were two pictures. One of a white nylon hairnet and one of a sheet of lint roller.
Clay counted. On the lint roller there were three distinct, long hairs, their ends hanging over the sides of the sticky rectangular sheet.
Her iPhone rang out.
‘Eve, did you get the pictures?’
‘I did, Terry, thank you. You got the hairs from McKee’s hairnet, right?’
‘Right. They’re all covered in various shades of crap but they’ve each got a follicle. We can test them for DNA. Do you want us to go ahead or send them to the lab? Your call, Eve.’
She felt like a sword had descended from the sky, splitting her into two perfectly even halves.
‘How long will the lab take?’
‘Thirteen hours plus.’
‘You?’
‘I can do it a lot faster than the lab.’
‘Can the lab retest the samples once you’ve had a go?’
‘Of course they can, Eve.’
‘I’ve known you for years, Terry, and I trust you to the limits. Send one of the samples to the lab and test the others yourself. Tell them to drop everything and fast-track it. We’re hunting down The Ghoul, tell them.’
‘Eve, don’t get over-excited by this. It’s possible the hairs could have come from one of McKee’s co-workers or even one of the prostitutes he employs.’
‘You’ve done it before and made a great job of it, Terry. Tell Pricey to be on standby in case anything crops up. I’d like you to stick to the DNA hunt to the exclusion of all other things.’
She hoped with all her spirit that the hairs belonged to Annie Boyd.
‘If he’s used his abattoir skills to scalp her, I think we’ve got a better than good chance that it may be hers.’
Clay saw the remains of Annie Boyd’s face and head on the mud at the bottom of the Mersey and the indelible image electrified her.
‘Edgar McKee, we’re coming to get you.’
113
7.58 am
Waking up in darkness, Francesca Christie lay on her right-hand side, the pain from her shoulder down to her foot cranking up with each passing moment.