No Place to Hide

A house fire. A suspicious death. A serial killer to catch.

When a body is found in a house fire DS Peter Gayle is called to the scene. It looks like an accidental death, but the evidence just doesn’t add up.

With only one murder victim they can’t make any calls, but it looks like a serial killer is operating in Exeter and it’s up to Pete to track him down.

But with his wife still desperate for news on their missing son and his boss watching his every move, the pressure is on for Pete to bring the murderer to justice before it is too late.

No Place to Hide

Jack Slater

ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES

Cover

Blurb

Title Page

Author Bio

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Chapter Thirty-two

Excerpt

Copyright

JACK SLATER

Raised in a farming family in Northamptonshire, England, the author had a varied career before settling in biomedical science. He has worked in farming, forestry, factories and shops as well as spending five years as a service engineer.

Widowed by cancer at thirty-three, he recently remarried in the Channel Islands, where he worked for several months through the summer of 2012.

He has been writing since childhood, in both fiction and non-fiction. No Place to Hide is his second crime novel and the second in the series of the DS Peter Gayle mysteries.

Acknowledgements

As always, I could not have completed this book without the assistance, in so many ways, of my wife, Prunella. Former Thames Valley Police officer Rick Ell once again gave invaluable advice when it was needed, as did my editor, Victoria Oundjian at Harper Collins. Without them, this would not have been the book that it is. I would also like to take this opportunity to thank the in-house artwork team at Harper Collins, who I think have excelled themselves with the cover art for this novel. The location is instantly recognisable, though it has never, to my knowledge, looked quite so dramatic. Thanks also go to all those who provided such wonderful reviews of the first novel in this series. I hope you all enjoy this book as much as its predecessor.

For Christine, who shone a light through the darkest times.

CHAPTER ONE

‘Damn it.’

Jerry’s knife hit the floor with a thump. He reached for it, tempted to ignore the knock on his front door that had caused him to drop it. Who the hell was going to be calling at this time of the evening, anyway? He certainly wasn’t expecting anyone.

Probably Jehovah’s Witnesses or something, he thought, checking the knife and the carpet where it had fallen.

The knock came again, louder, more insistent. They must have seen the light from inside. He sighed and got up, putting his dinner to one side.

In the hallway, he could see the silhouette of a man through the glass front door. He checked the chain and opened it a crack. A young man stood there. Clean cut, with neat dark hair, dressed in chinos and a jacket against the chill of the November evening.

‘Mr Tyler?’

‘Yes.’

‘Perfect.’ He took a step back and Jerry frowned, confused. From nowhere, something slammed into the door. The chain gave way and the door hit Jerry in the face. He staggered. The young guy leapt in, shoving him back so that he stumbled and fell onto the stairs, the treads digging painfully into his back. Another figure crowded in behind, carrying what looked like a heavy metal pipe with handles along two sides and a black sports bag with a dark gold logo. The first one was leering over him now, his face inches away. ‘Now, Jerry. You’re going to show us your computer.’

‘My computer?’ Jerry frowned. ‘Why? What are you . . .?’

‘We know what you are. I’ve seen your record.’

‘That’s—’

The guy’s hand clamped across Jerry’s throat, cutting off his words. ‘It wasn’t a request,’ he said. ‘Where is it? Or do we have to search the place?’

Jerry stared into the young man’s eyes and saw no give at all. No compassion. If anything, a cold enjoyment of what he was doing. Who was he? How had he seen closed records?

‘You want it the hard way? Fine.’ Something hard pressed into Jerry’s solar plexus and agony spasmed through his torso. He gasped. Had he been stabbed? He couldn’t look down for the hand at his throat. ‘Josh, get his trousers.’

The other, larger guy crowded forward. Jerry felt hands at his belt. ‘No, please,’ he gasped. ‘I’ll tell you.’

A smile lit up the face above him. ‘I know.’ The head tilted. The agonising pressure lifted from his torso. ‘So . . . ?’

‘Front bedroom. It’s my office.’

‘Password?’

‘Axminster.’

‘Ironic, in the circumstances. Josh?’