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
Pulling up at a red light, Clay looked over her shoulder at the back seat, saw Kizzy next to a folded dressing gown. She felt the weight of a set of keys in her pocket as she pressed play on her iPhone on a recording she had made of her last conversation with Norma Maguire.
‘We found the clothes Francesca was last seen in on CCTV. They were in your wardrobe. Did you give her alternative clothing?’
‘No.’
Norma Maguire started humming.
‘Where is Francesca Christie? You still haven’t told me.’
‘Oxford Drive, Liverpool 22.’
‘In a house on Oxford Drive?’
‘Oxford Drive.’
‘Give me a post code?’
‘L22 1BX.’
‘What number?’
‘Not a number. Not a house.’
Crosby. Close to the beach. Clay recalled the moment of mental clarity back in Interview Suite 1. She took the keys from her pocket.
She pressed stop on the recording and looked ahead as she listened to directions from her satnav.
Clay opened the window to let in the cold and let out the mounting claustrophobia.
Birds swooped over the sand and the sea crashed into the shore as she turned on to Oxford Drive.
In the distance, Clay saw a white van parked outside a semi-detached house.
She accelerated.
135
4.11 pm
As Clay and Riley hurried towards the white van, Clay said, ‘They’ve swapped the licence plate.’
‘That’s how they’ve dodged the ANPRs and CCTV cameras.’
‘Francesca Christie? Francesca? Police.’ Clay banged gently on the back doors of the van. ‘My name’s DCI Eve Clay. It’s the police. Speak to me.’
The silence that followed grew more worrying with each passing moment.
‘Francesca?’ said Clay. ‘I’m a policewoman, talk to me.’
‘Hello?’
‘You’re perfectly safe, Francesca. We’ve got the people who’ve been holding you captive. They’re in our custody and no longer have any power to harm you.’
‘Where? Where am I?’
‘You’re in a white Ford Transit van on Oxford Drive in Crosby. Can I open the door?’
‘Yes.’
Clay turned the lock and pulled back the right-hand door, took a deep breath and focused on Francesca, tied up and naked on the floor.
‘The woman coming into the van right now is my colleague, Detective Sergeant Gina Riley.’
‘Francesca?’ said Riley, stepping up and into the back of the van. ‘I’m going to untie your hands and feet. I have your dressing gown with me. Once you’re untied I’m going to help you into the dressing gown. Do you think you’re able to stand on your feet?’
‘My legs feel dead. I feel dead from the waist down. I can feel my fingers and hands. I’ve got sensation in my arms.’
‘You’re cold, you’ve been tied up. The feeling will come back to your legs and feet.’