Chapters (130)
- Cover
- FIND THEM DEAD
- Dedication page
- Maps
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- FOUR MONTHS LATER
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- 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
- 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
- 99
- 100
- 101
- 102
- 103
- 104
- 105
- 106
- 107
- 108
- 109
- 110
- 111
- GLOSSARY
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- NOW A MAJOR ITV SERIES
- I FOLLOW YOU
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- DISCOVER THE ROY GRACE BOOKS
- FIND THEM DEAD
- The Detective Superintendent Roy Grace books in order
- Also by Peter James
Johnson was excited, but still mindful of the value of this car if it was genuine, despite his suspicions. The least intrusive place to start, from his past experience, would be with the spare wheel.
He opened the boot and, joined by two colleagues, removed it. They lifted it uneasily out of the vehicle, alarm bells ringing at the weight of it. One of the officers rolled and bounced it. He then spoke to his colleague, who produced a Stanley knife.
Mickey watched in horror as the man ripped through it.
‘For God’s sake, that’s an original that came with the car!’ Mickey shouted, desperation in his voice. ‘Do you have any idea what you might be doing to the value of this Ferrari?’
‘I’m very sorry, Mr Starr, the car’s owners will of course be compensated for any damage done during the examination if the car proves to be in order,’ Clive Johnson said.
‘Can I have a smoke?’
‘I’m afraid this is a no-smoking area.’
‘Well, can I go outside then?’
‘I’m sorry, sir, not at this moment,’ Johnson said. ‘We need you to be in attendance to observe what we are doing.’
There was no hiss of escaping air as the officer sliced the blade deep into the tyre wall. For some while he worked the blade around in an arc, until finally he pulled away a large flap of rubber.
In the gap it left, a plastic bag filled with a white powder was clearly visible. The officer reached in to pull it out and held it up, showing those present what he had found.
‘Most people fill their tyres with air, sir.’ Johnson moved forward towards Mickey. ‘I believe this package contains controlled drugs and I’m arresting you.’
Mickey stared at him for a fraction of a second in complete blind panic. Trying to think clearly. A voice inside his head screamed, RUN!
Mickey shoved the officer harshly sideways, sending him stumbling into the wall, and sprinted forward, racing through the shed. He heard shouts, a voice yelling at him to stop. If he could just get out of here, out into the dark streets, he could disappear. Hole up somewhere or steal a car and get back to Stuie.
His foot hit something painfully hard, a fucking wheel brace, and he sprawled forward. As he scrambled desperately back to his feet, someone grabbed his right arm, his prosthetic arm.
He twisted, kicked out backwards with his foot, felt it connect and heard a grunt of pain.
His arm was still being held.