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Back The Bad Place Save as PDF
Chapters (72)
  1. Cover
  2. THE BAD PLACE
  3. Contents
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. Acknowledgements
  71. About the author
  72. An Invitation from the Publisher

She felt his attitude soften. Then it was only a matter of waiting for his reply.

‘If she wants to come back, that’s up to her,’ he said finally, picking up his beer. ‘But I ain’t gonna beg.’

24

Sasha drove to the edge of town and parked her Spider beneath a tree outside a brown brick building with a colourful mural on the front. The Tarpley Care Home was the only building in a wide, leafy road. The gulls soared listlessly beneath the pounding sun. The pavements were already heating up, the sky was an unblemished blue, and it was a relief to walk into the pleasant air-conditioned reception.

She didn’t relish the prospect of meeting Peter Carrington again. She remembered encountering him briefly on the night of Becky Haskell’s death many years back. She didn’t recall what he’d said to her on that busy and traumatic night, but had never forgotten his intimidating and arrogant manner.

Carrington was a big beast in the force back then, one of the alpha males in CID, and had built a formidable reputation as a detective. But he was already a man running out of time. Rumours circulated that he had a drink problem and his mistakes during the Bad Place investigation, including his tragic confrontation with Swann, a man he had even spoken to during a door-to-door search, saw him forced into early retirement.

Carrington wouldn’t remember her, she was just a lowly WPC twenty-six years ago – back when there were still WPCs – and she had no intention of jogging his memory.

A tall man in a navy jacket, jeans, and battered boating shoes without socks was talking amiably to a receptionist as she came in.

‘The window doesn’t shut properly, is it something we can get sorted?’ He scraped his long blond fringe back over his head. ‘I’d be very grateful if we could.’

‘Leave it with me, Mr Carrington.’

‘Thank you.’ He was a rugged-looking man like his father, but well-spoken and polite. ‘You’re very kind.’

‘Ian Carrington?’ asked Sasha. ‘That’s good timing. I’m Sasha Dawson, we spoke on the phone.’

‘Sasha!’ He greeted her like an old friend, with a firm handshake. ‘I’m sorry, DI Dawson, it’s good to meet you.’

‘Sasha’s fine,’ she said. ‘Thanks for seeing me.’

‘You’re very welcome. Dad is on the second floor.’ He led her to the elevator and they stepped inside. There was barely enough space for the both of them; Ian Carrington seemed to suck up most of the lift. Stabbing the button to close the door, he apologized when he elbowed her. The door trundled slowly shut.