BooksBarbecue
Back What Lies Beneath Save as PDF

What Lies Beneath

Adam Croft
Chapters (70)
  1. Cover
  2. Get more of my books FREE!
  3. Map of Rutland
  4. Map of Oakham
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. 51
  56. 52
  57. 53
  58. 54
  59. 55
  60. 56
  61. 57
  62. 58
  63. 59
  64. 60
  65. 61
  66. 62
  67. 63
  68. On Borrowed Time
  69. Acknowledgments
  70. Adam Croft

Cover

What Lies Beneath

Get more of my books FREE!

To say thank you for buying this book, I’d like to invite you to my exclusive VIP Club, and give you some of my books and short stories for FREE.

To join the club, head to adamcroft.net/vip-club and two free books will be sent to you straight away! And the best thing is it won’t cost you a penny — ever.

Adam Croft

For more information, visit my website: adamcroft.net

Map of Rutland

Map of Rutland

Map of Oakham

Map of Oakham

1

For Bob Tranter, Sunday mornings began the moment they shut off the outboard motor. The only sounds left were those of the birds, the lapping of the water and the odd car in the distance. This was his heaven.

He rolled with the movement of the boat as his friend, Geoff Hampson, unzipped the Thermos bag and took out their supplies: a Cornish pasty each (still warm) and a flask of black coffee to share. To Bob and Geoff, it was what Sundays were all about.

Each week, Bob set his Sunday alarm for seven o’clock. Then it was straight into the shower and dressed ready for half past, when Geoff would pull up outside Bob’s house in Corby — bumping his way up the kerb as he always did — ready to arrive at the Rutland Water Fishing Lodge just before eight. There was something special about being the first boat out.

It wasn’t always fishing, of course. Sometimes they’d happily bob around on the water all morning, or occasionally head over towards Egleton or Barnsdale to spot birds. Either way, it was the ultimate form of relaxation. As much as they loved their wives, there was nothing more enjoyable than spending a few hours on Rutland Water, alone in a boat and putting the world to rights.

Bob sank his teeth into the thick pastry, his tastebuds coming alive as he devoured the snack within seconds. Each week he told himself he’d make the next one last longer, and each week the hunger took control.

He sniffed as he unscrewed the top of the Thermos flask and poured himself a cup of coffee, watching as the steam rose upwards, swirling amongst the morning mist, becoming one with it.

‘Beautiful morning for it,’ he said, the same as he did each week, whatever the weather.

‘You’re not wrong there,’ Geoff replied, true to the script.

Bob sniffed again. ‘Much new with you, then?’

‘Nothing to write home about. You?’

‘Nah. Same old, same old. You know how it is.’

‘That I do, Bob. That I do.’