Chapters (68)
- Cover
- Dedication
- NOW
- One
- BEFORE
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- NOW
- Twenty-One
- BEFORE
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- NOW
- Thirty-Nine
- BEFORE
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- NOW
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- AFTER
- Fifty-Six
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
‘One more thing, Mark,’ DI Bennett said, sliding her chair back slightly from her desk. ‘I know you have thoughts about whether the Burns and Carter cases are linked, but the evidence we have points towards a suicide, so I need you to see if we might be right. Without anything better than a hunch about them being linked, at the moment I should add, it’s a pretty difficult sell.’
‘I understand,’ Mark replied, feeling a little better for hearing DI Bennett say that, but also wondering how long it would be until that tone changed. Whether he would be shoved to the side when it did. If he found the link, would he be congratulated, or cast aside? He wasn’t sure.
Mark left the station not long after, driving his car out into the dark of night, winding his way out of the city centre and into its suburbs. Or what there is of them, in a city like Liverpool. The city centre was its hub, but the various council and housing estates bordering it had to be traversed before you found the so-called nicer areas. He’d grown up over the water, in a place called Wallasey. A town which had seen better days, his parents had always told him.
Thinking of them reminded him that he’d not spoken to his parents in a few days. He knew they’d be worried, as they always seemed to be.
They weren’t far off turning sixty now, still wondering how they’d allowed their son to move across to what they’d always viewed as the less affluent side of the River Mersey. Liverpool was the large city on their doorstep, one they had treated not with contempt, but with an air of something approaching fear. As if it held secrets they could never unlock. Now, their son was not only working in a dangerous job, but one which had taken their little boy to the bad side.
He’d always been attracted to the city.
His mum was always carrying on about why no one should ever leave the house. The dangers that lurked when you escaped the safety of the home. He’d long since given up telling her that the biggest dangers lay in your own house. The vast majority of the cases he dealt with occurred behind closed doors.
Once he’d landed the job in the Major Crimes Unit in the city centre’s station, his mum’s worries had kicked into overdrive. He knew she’d be happier if he was working in a quiet area. Somewhere in the leafier parts of the Wirral, where she could imagine he’d be dealing with lower-level crimes, if any at all.
It had never been a consideration for him.