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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

‘I have to say I’m fascinated by your request to see Dad. I suppose it’s about the Bad Place.’ He waved a hand at her obvious discomfort. ‘Oh, I’m used to it. Nobody’s ever wanted to see him about any of the investigations he brought to a successful conclusion. Baden Place is the only one anybody ever wants to discuss.’

‘I’m not here to rake over old wounds, but the case has certain threads that connect it to something I’m working on now.’

‘The abduction of that girl. I saw the news, and the press conference. I wouldn’t have liked to have been in your shoes afterwards.’ When she looked uncomfortable, he laughed. ‘Don’t worry, we’re no strangers to bad press around here.’

When the lift door opened, Ian pressed himself against the wall to let her out first, and they walked along a carpeted hallway. ‘Second door on the left.’

‘How long has your dad been living here?’ she asked.

‘Three years now, he’s been very frail,’ he said. ‘Particularly since the stroke.’

‘The stroke?’

Ian knocked once on a door and went inside, saying brightly, ‘There’s someone come to see you, Dad! A detective! I bet that takes you back!’

With obvious affection, he kissed the top of the head of an old man who drooped in a wheelchair at an open window, just as Sasha had kissed her own father earlier. Ian fussed around him for a few moments, smoothing his white hair, removing a blanket from his lap. ‘We don’t need this, it’s baking!’

But Peter Carrington didn’t react at all; it was impossible to tell if he even knew his son was there. A thin, hunched man, he stared into space with moist, empty eyes. His mouth was slack and drool dribbled down the creases in his jaw. He was nothing like the big, vital man Sasha remembered. Ian pulled up a chair beside his father to dab the damp corners of his mouth with a tissue.

The room was bright and filled with the vivid sunshine that poured in the window and made the floating dust motes and summer pollen sparkle. There was a cabinet full of battered paperbacks, police textbooks and tidy rows of framed photographs.

‘Hello, Mr Carrington,’ she said. ‘It’s good to meet you.’

‘What was it you wanted to ask Dad?’ When she looked at the old man doubtfully, Ian smiled. ‘You’ll have to ask me, I’m afraid, but I can assure you, he’s told me everything about the Bad Place – everything that he knew.’