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Back The Last Guests
Chapters (54)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. Epigraph
  4. PROLOGUE
  5. PART ONE
  6. ONE
  7. TWO
  8. THREE
  9. FOUR
  10. DEADLY SAS RAID IN AFGHANISTAN UNDER SCRUTINY
  11. FIVE
  12. SIX
  13. SEVEN
  14. EIGHT
  15. NINE
  16. TEN
  17. ELEVEN
  18. TWELVE
  19. THIRTEEN
  20. FOURTEEN
  21. FIFTEEN
  22. SIXTEEN
  23. SEVENTEEN
  24. EIGHTEEN
  25. NINETEEN
  26. TWENTY
  27. PART TWO
  28. TWENTY-ONE
  29. TWENTY-TWO
  30. TWENTY-THREE
  31. TWENTY-FOUR
  32. TWENTY-FIVE
  33. TWENTY-SIX
  34. TWENTY-SEVEN
  35. TWENTY-EIGHT
  36. TWENTY-NINE
  37. DANIEL MOORE: ‘A SINGLE BLOKE, HAPPY-GO-LUCKY, A BIT OF A DUNCE BUT WITH A GOOD HEART,’ BEST FRIEND SAYS.
  38. THIRTY
  39. THIRTY-ONE
  40. THIRTY-TWO
  41. THIRTY-THREE
  42. THIRTY-FOUR
  43. THIRTY-FIVE
  44. BREAKING: POLICE CONFIRM DANIEL MOORE ACTED ALONE
  45. THIRTY-SIX
  46. THIRTY-SEVEN
  47. THIRTY-EIGHT
  48. THIRTY-NINE
  49. SECOND ARREST MADE IN WESTAY HIDDEN CAMERAS CASE
  50. EPILOGUE
  51. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  52. Discover More
  53. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  54. Also by J. P. Pomare

They’re in helmets and body armour, rifles raised as they enter the house. The armed offenders squad clear each room, one at a time. The photographers, crime scene specialists arrive now. Police are seen outside in camera 2, standing near the front door, three of them talking between themselves. An ambulance is parked in the background beside all the other emergency services vehicles. A photo flash, the photographer in the hazmat suit is squatting over the spots of blood on the carpet at the base of the stairs. They place a marker down, a yellow tab. Then another and another. Slowly working through the house. Collecting evidence to build a narrative of what happened tonight.

The viewer numbers are steady at 319. No one is going anywhere, they’re all watching to see what happens next.

A police officer with strong cheekbones and wide-set eyes rushes in. White protective slips cover his shoes and he’s got medical gloves on. He’s gesturing towards the corners of the room. He snatches a stepladder away from one of the crime scene specialists. He takes it to the corner and climbs up, his face growing as he gets closer to the camera. He’s peering right into it, his brow heavy with two vertical creases drawn up his forehead. The camera shuffles, the image blurring in the steam of his breath. Then the room turns, a sickly twirl as the officer shows the viewers the insides of his nostrils. He’s found the first of the cameras. The image drops out. One by one, over the course of the next few hours, it happens again and again until none of the cameras remain.

image

Peephole

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Viewers: 319