The Incident at North Shore
**A horror short story from #1 bestseller, Paul Finch. Part of the Dark Winter Tales series: unputdownable reads for cold winter nights…**PC Sharon Jones arranges to meet DS Geoff Slater at rundown amusement park, Fun Land; the perfect place to avoid their affair being seen by colleagues.But when she starts receiving bizarre texts, it dawns on her that the person who has asked her to come tonight might not be Geoff after all…As Sharon tries to escape through a maze of old arcades, she realises she is locked inside. And there is some gruesome evidence to suggest that she’s not the only one who has been trapped here…but she might just be the only one still alive.As the nights draw in, get hooked on this dark and suspenseful short story. The perfect read for fans of Mark Edwards and Peter James.
Читать The Incident at North Shore онлайн беплатно
The Incident at North Shore
Paul Finch
Published by Avon
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
This ebook edition published by HarperCollins Publishers 2016
First published in paperback in Terror Tales of the Seaside by Gray Friar Press, 2013
Copyright © Paul Finch 2016
Cover design © Debbie Clement 2016
Paul Finch asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy 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 authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © January 2016 ISBN: 9780008173708
Version: 2015-12-18
Contents
In some ways, Blair McKellanâs escape from Lowerhall was a godsend for Sharon.
Okay, it could never be good for anyone that a six-time killer was on the loose with an apparent agenda to continue the same grisly rampage that had seen him confined in the first place, and it especially couldnât be good for the police officers who were likely to have to pick up the pieces. But Sharon was getting to the stage where she needed more from Geoff Slater than a simple tumble in the back of his CID car, and this incident ought to create sufficient time and space for them to at least discuss it.
That said, in the first instance McKellan would cause nothing but problems. Sharon had just commenced the night-shift when the call came through. The sound of sirens echoing across the darkened sea and the flashing glare of searchlight beams emanating from the distant, high-walled structure on the South Shore headland was immediately sufficient to attract patrols from all over St Derfyn Bay. When news broke that it was Blair McKellan, and that heâd gutted one of the guards while making his escape, patrols had come dashing from neighbouring divisions as well, and even neighbouring force areas: Dyfed-Powys in the south, Merseyside in the north.
Of course, as a relatively junior officer, still with only a couple of years in the job, there wasnât much that Sharon could really do. She drove warily up South Shore Drive, the airwaves crackling incomprehensibly as radio messages rocketed back and forth, the black October sky reflecting the innumerable searchlights. But sheâd only travelled half a mile before reaching the first roadblock. Somehow or other, PSUs had got there ahead of her. Two of their armoured troop-carriers sat at angles across the blacktop, their complement of tough guys standing around in visored helmets and Kevlar plate, some clutching PVC riot shields and hickory night-sticks, others â indicating that one of the carriers was in fact an ARV â with pistols at their belts and carbines across their chests. Local supervision was also on hand. Sharon saw Inspector Marquis in deep conflab with a man wearing the pale-grey helmet and body-plate of the Lowerhall security team. Beyond the scene of chaos, the road curved on along the rocky coast, spangled all the way with spinning blue beacons.
A leather-gloved hand rapped at her window. She powered it down, admitting the face of Section Sergeant Pugh. He was a pale, severe looking man with short-cropped iron-grey hair, lean features and prominent cheekbones. Such a visage wasnât made for smiling, which was a good thing as he rarely did.
âWhat are you doing here, PC Jones?â he enquired.
âWanted to see if I could be of assistance, sergeant,â she replied.
âWell, as you can see ⦠the world and his brother have taken charge of this situation.â He sniffed disapprovingly, never having been one to hold faith in specialist outfits like Tactical Support or Firearms Response. âGet back to the town centre please, and cover your beat until further notice. And if anyone else thinks theyâre going to toddle up here and spend the rest of the shift drinking coffee and chatting to their mates, you can tell them otherwise.â
She nodded, powered the window up, shifted gear and spun the car around in a three-point turn. This was just what sheâd been hoping for.
En route back to town, she passed another local patrol easing its way along South Shore Drive. She flashed her headlights and the vehicles pulled up alongside each other. It was PC Mike Lewton and his young probationer, Rob Ellis. Lewton was burly and black-haired, with a thick moustache, pitted cheeks and a flattened nose. But he wasnât the brute he looked and was usually good for a giggle. Ellis was younger, and even more fresh-faced than Sharon, but with a shaved head and jug-handle ears, there was something vaguely comical about him.
