TOUCH: A DI Charlotte Savage Novel
Harry likes pretty things. He likes to look at them. Sometimes that isn't enough. He wants to get closer. Naughty Harry.Introducing DI Charlotte Savage, feisty female detective, in this serial killer chiller Touch.DI Charlotte Savage is struggling with their investigation into a string of horrific attacks on young women. The victims are being drugged, abducted, assaulted and then abandoned with only a dull memory of what has happened. But when the mutilated body of one of these women is found on a beach, the case becomes a chilling murder inquiry. Stopping at just one victim will never be enough … not for this killer.A must-read for fans of Mark Billingham and Chris Carter. Perfect for fans of Broadchurch, Scott and Bailey and The Fall.
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MARK SENNEN
Touch
Avon An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London, SE1 9GF
Copyright © Mark Sennen 2012
Mark Sennen asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for 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.
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 ebook 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.
Source ISBN: 9780007512096
Ebook Edition © January 2013 ISBN: 9780007512102 Version: 2018-10-25
For Sue and Michael
Table of Contents
When Harry was a child he lived at the top of the house. His little bedroom had been crammed under the eaves and had funny shaped walls, sloping ceilings and iron hooks in the beams to which you could tie things. Most of the year the temperature seemed glacial and when night fell he would go to bed fully-clothed and try to think himself warm. Then he would lie in the darkness listening to the noise of the water tank hidden behind one wall. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he was sure nobody would come, but as long as the room stayed dark he didn’t get afraid. The dark felt comforting. Safe. In the dark he became invisible. It was when the light came on he got scared.
Harry peered through the window into the gloom beyond the cracked glass. Nothing to see but black. Clouds hid the moon and stars and there were no streetlights, no cars or other signs of life. Not out here. Harry smiled to himself. He didn’t get scared. Not anymore. He turned from the window and gazed across at the girl. She slouched in the chair dressed in the white underwear he had bought for her. She didn’t say much, just sat unmoving, eyes wide. Her silence was understandable, after all they had been together for weeks and she didn’t have much left to say. Still, he could tell by her demeanour she wasn’t comfortable, that something wasn’t quite right. Harry tutted to himself and shook his head. This would never do. He went over to the girl and reached out and touched her skin. Cold. Ice cold. Poor girl, no wonder the smile on her face had gone. He bent down and fiddled with the fan heater, turning the knob up a couple of notches. The fan whirred in protest but the air seemed a little warmer. He moved the heater and angled the air flow upwards so the warmth reached the girl’s body. There, she looked almost happy.
Almost happy would do for him too, he thought. He didn’t think it was much to ask. Years back he’d seen a woman lawyer talking on TV. ‘There are human rights’, she said. Those rights meant you could get stuff you didn’t have. Stuff like happiness. It was the law. Written down. In books. You could go to court to get it. You could sue the council or the government and get damages. But now he knew there were easier ways.
Harry’s ways.
He moistened his lips and pushed his tongue into the corner of his cheek and chewed for a moment, letting his eyes wander over the girl’s body: pink toenails, delicate feet, shapely calves, not-too-thin thighs, rounded stomach, nice breasts, gorgeous long black hair … Nice. Very nice.
Her breasts were the best thing about her. Small and pert, the nipples pushing upwards through the white material of the bra. Towards God. As if thanking her creator for producing such a work of art. Harry considered the girl again. Overall she scored nine out of ten. Maybe nine point five. You would go a long way to find a better likeness.
Harry scratched the stubble on his chin. The nagging thought that had first come to him a few weeks ago returned. Things hadn’t worked out as they should have. Not with this one. She was like an apple that was ripe on the outside but rotten within. Full of worms and maggots, or perhaps hiding a wasp. Yes, a wasp. You would get stung if you bit into a piece of fruit with a wasp inside. He needed a girl who was clean and pure. Untouched.
