Back Stolen
Chapters (63)
  1. PRAISE FOR PAUL FINCH
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Prologue
  5. Chapter 1
  6. Chapter 2
  7. Chapter 3
  8. Chapter 4
  9. Chapter 5
  10. Chapter 6
  11. Chapter 7
  12. Chapter 8
  13. Chapter 9
  14. Chapter 10
  15. Chapter 11
  16. Chapter 12
  17. Chapter 13
  18. Chapter 14
  19. Chapter 15
  20. Chapter 16
  21. Chapter 17
  22. Chapter 18
  23. Chapter 19
  24. Chapter 20
  25. Chapter 21
  26. Chapter 22
  27. Chapter 23
  28. Chapter 24
  29. Chapter 25
  30. Chapter 26
  31. Chapter 27
  32. Chapter 28
  33. Chapter 29
  34. Chapter 30
  35. Chapter 31
  36. Chapter 32
  37. Chapter 33
  38. Chapter 34
  39. Chapter 35
  40. Chapter 36
  41. Chapter 37
  42. Chapter 38
  43. Chapter 39
  44. Chapter 40
  45. Chapter 41
  46. Chapter 42
  47. Chapter 43
  48. Chapter 44
  49. Chapter 45
  50. Chapter 46
  51. Chapter 47
  52. A Stranger is just a killer you
  53. Do you know who’s
  54. Love Paul Finch? Then why not try his Detective
  55. A vicious killer is holding the country to ransom, publicly – and gruesomely – murdering his victims.
  56. DS Mark ‘Heck’ Heckenburg is used to bloodbaths. But nothing will prepare him for this …
  57. As a brutal winter takes hold of the Lake District, a prolific serial killer stalks the fells. And for Heck, the signs are all too familiar …
  58. Heck needs to watch his back.
  59. Is your home safe?
  60. A deadly hunt. A dangerous game. A man who plays with fire …
  61. About the Author
  62. By the same author:
  63. About the Publisher

‘Inconvenient? This is the kind of amateur shit these eighteen-year-old pushers round Longsight and Moss Side are always pulling. I’m amazed no dozy twat filmed the whole thing on his mobile and then lost it outside a fucking cop shop.’

‘You’ve got it right about the age, at least.’

McCracken glanced round at him. ‘I’m not following.’

‘Wild Bill wanted a big lesson taught. So he sent the Ripsaw Man.’

‘The Ripsaw Man,’ McCracken said with slow disbelief. ‘The same guy who’s carried out a hundred clean hits in the last ten years? Who’s been so clean, in fact, that most people on our network don’t even know he exists, let alone the fucking coppers? That Ripsaw Man?’

Shallicker shrugged apologetically. ‘It was Bill’s idea. He said O’Grady had overstepped the mark big time, and that it had to be special.’

‘It was special all right! What went wrong?’

‘What went wrong is it wasn’t the Ripsaw Man who filled the contract. From what I’ve heard, he’s looking to retire.’

‘So, who did it then?’

‘Seems he’s been training up his daughters.’ Shallicker shrugged again. ‘Wild Bill knew about it, liked the idea – said it was cute, two pretty slips of lasses carrying out nasty hits for him. But previously, he’d said only when they knew their stuff. Anyway, when he sent the contract through last night, there was a note on it: “The kids are all right.”’

McCracken’s astonishment was growing steadily. ‘And is he aware they were nowhere near all right … that it was a total fuck-up?’

‘All I know is that they’ve been practising, and Bill had been told they were almost good to go – and he wanted to see if that was true.’

McCracken pondered this, not believing for a second that Wild Bill would take such a chance without having an ulterior motive, and now thinking it far more likely that he himself was being served up, maybe as a punishment for letting one of his own victims get the better of him.

‘Look, Frank …’ Shallicker attempted some consolation. ‘If that gun’s any use to the cozzers – it’s been burned, remember, probably inside and out – it wasn’t like you fired it. It’ll bring a bit of heat down, but not very much …’