Tell Tale: A DI Charlotte Savage Novel
‘A wonderfully twisty maze’ JAMES OSWALDDI CHARLOTTE SAVAGE KNOWS WHO KILLED HER DAUGHTERBut before Charlotte can get her revenge, disturbing events start to unfold on Dartmoor…A woman’s naked body is found near an isolated reservoir on the bleak winter moors. When the woman’s housemate also goes missing, Charlotte knows she must move fast.But in a police force tainted by corruption, Charlotte’s hunt for the killer won’t be easy.And resisting her own urge to kill will be even harder…A page-turning, terrifying crime thriller, perfect for fans of Peter May and Tim Weaver, and TV series Broadchurch and Scott and Bailey.
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2015
Copyright © Mark Sennen 2015
Cover image © Neil Robinson/Getty Images
Cover Design © Andrew Smith www.asmithcompany.co.uk
Mark Sennen asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780007587865
Ebook Edition © January 2015 ISBN: 9780007587872
Version: 2016-02-23
For Gitte … again!
Contents
Stars. Pinpricks of light vaulted across the sky. Hundreds of them, thousands, more than he can count. Perhaps, he thinks, there are even as many stars in the sky as there are girls in the city. He licks his lips, the notion exciting him. That’s one hell of a lot of stars. A hell of a lot of girls.
You know what you do with stars, Chubber? Make a wish.
‘Oh yes, a wish!’ Chubber whispers to himself as he swings his eyes earthward, down from the heavens. ‘I wish, I wish … I wish I could find her!’
In front of him, the moor is a heaving landscape of shadows rolling towards the distant orange glow of civilisation. All around, tors rise from the scrub and heather, grey granite forms that watch and wait. Chubber is waiting too, crouched behind a prickly clump of gorse, well wrapped in a homemade sheepskin cloak. The night is cold and frosty. A lacework pattern of ice glitters amongst the bog plants. Chubber’s eyes follow the silver trail as frozen water winds up towards a spring. She’s up there. Hiding. If Chubber hadn’t slipped over he’d have caught her by now.
Silly Chubber!
Yes. Silly. She’d been safely locked away but he’d wanted to give her a chance. The game was more exciting when he gave them a chance.
Exciting, yes! The thrill of the chase. You love it.
Chubber scans the hillside hoping his wish will come true, but there’s nothing moving, nothing living out here. Not at this time of year.
December, Chubber. Nearly Christmas.
He should have waited for the big day, he thinks. Now he’ll have nothing to look forward to but a ready meal from the microwave and the chocolate orange he’s been saving. If only she would … there! His heart leaps as he spots her eyes sparkling green in a shaft of moonlight. He jumps up and starts to run. She runs too, but now Chubber’s grinning, he’s getting closer. Gaining. Soon he’ll catch up with her.
‘There, there,’ Chubber shouts out. ‘No need to run from Chubber, my little beauty. Chubber’ll be nice and gentle. Promise. Just a bit of gliding and sliding and then … and then …’
She lets out a little cry, the noise disappearing into the dark of the night, the moor sucking the sound down into the boggy ground, where centuries of secrets lie hidden in the peaty soil. Chubber stumbles after her, but then pauses. There she is, standing on a ridge in the distance, for a moment silhouetted against the starry sky. She’s found harder ground and now she darts away, across the moor and into the night; disappearing behind a tor, the hunks of granite sheer black against the sprinkling of stars.
Bugger.
Chubber stands and pants. Hard work, chasing. Bloody hard work. Especially when you don’t catch them. Air wheezes in and out of his lungs. A hand moves down to loosen the tie on his baggies. Slips inside. Touches himself and then scratches his bollocks.
Double bugger, he thinks. Waste of an evening. She’s well and truly gone. Disappeared behind that … Chubber feels a breeze glide across his exposed tummy. He shivers. Realises he’s chased his prey far over the moor.
Too far, Chubber. Much too far.
