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
When Clay entered the incident room at Trinity Road police station, there was an air of industry in the space, and many of the faces sitting around and close to Cole were unfamiliar to her.
She looked at the door, waiting for Poppy Waters to arrive, and, sitting at her desk, she opened her laptop and winked back at four men who had winked at her over Pebbles On The Beach.
Clay took a paper transcript of the online exchanges between Annie Boyd and Richard Ezra from her drawer and spread them out on the desk.
‘Thank you so much, everyone. Great work. Couldn’t have got here so quickly without you,’ said Cole, standing and stretching his limbs.
Clay raised her arm to attract Cole’s attention as Hendricks and Riley emerged from the group. Cole walked in her direction with a smile on his face and a map in his hand.
‘What have we got, Barney?’ asked Clay.
He placed the map down on her desk and she looked at the black rectangle with North Road and Grassendale Road on the left, and Salisbury Road on the right.
‘I’ve double-checked. We’ve got the main road, St Mary’s Road, forming the top of the rectangle and Grassendale Promenade on the bottom. We’ve got fourteen roads inside the grid.’
‘There’s absolutely no way out, no way of getting out of the grid without getting caught on CCTV or ANPR at some point nearby?’ asked Clay, staring long and hard into the mouth of the gift horse.
‘We can check the roads west of North Road and Grassendale Road but the CCTV on Beechwood Road hasn’t thrown anything up, and east of Salisbury Road, there are no roads to travel down.’
Hendricks gave two printed sheets to Clay, a CCTV image of the white van and a generic picture of a vehicle of the same make and approximate age.
She looked at the pictures of the van and the small area outlined on the map.
‘Bill, ring round the duty superintendents. We need every available body for the Grassendale Park door to door. Gina, oversee the operation. Everyone reports back directly to you.’
‘Anything comes up, Eve, I’ll be right on to you.’
‘We need every garage open,’ said Clay, turning to Cole. ‘Barney, get on to the duty magistrate. We need an emergency search warrant, pronto. And pull up all the men who live in the grid from the electoral roll. Check them against the National Police Computer, please, and let’s see what comes crawling from the woodwork.’
She looked at the map, the network of roads inside the rectangular grid.
‘I hope you’re right, Barney.’
‘So do I. All that time and effort. I’m going to look like dick of the year if I’m wrong.’