Dead at First Sight by Peter James
English | 2019 | Mystery/Thriller | ePUB | 979 Kb
Dead at First Sight: A man waits at London Airport for Ingrid Ostermann, the love of his life, to arrive. Across the Atlantic, a retired NYPD cop waits in a bar in Florida’s Key West for his first date with the lady who is, without question, his soulmate. The two men are about to discover they’ve been scammed out of almost every penny they have—and that neither woman exists. Meanwhile, a wealthy divorcée plunges, in suspicious circumstances, from an apartment block in Munich. In the same week, Detective Superintendent Roy Grace is called to investigate the suicide of a woman in Brighton, that is clearly not what it seems. As his investigations continue, a handsome Brighton motivational speaker comes forward. He’d discovered his identity is being used to scam 11 different women, online. Roy Grace realizes he is looking at the tip of an iceberg. A global empire built on clever, cruel internet scams and the murder of anyone who threatens to expose them.
“Yes?’ Johnny said, alarmed by their sudden presence. Had something happened?
‘John Charles Fordwater?’
‘Yes, that’s me.’
The man held out a warrant card. ‘Detective Sergeant Potting and Detective Constable Wilde from Surrey and Sussex Major Crime Team, sir. We’ve had a phone call from your sister, Angela, who’s been concerned about you since one of my colleagues spoke to you a couple of months ago. Your sister told us you would be here and who you are meeting. Could we have a word with you, sir?’
Johnny felt a moment of utter bewilderment. Then his insides were like a lift plunging down, as the terrible thought struck him. ‘Oh God, please no, please don’t tell me Ingrid’s had an accident. Please don’t.’
‘Would you mind accompanying us to the airport police station, Mr Fordwater?’ DS Potting said. ‘It’s only a five-minute drive.’
‘Please – please say she’s all right. She hasn’t had an accident, has she?’
‘There hasn’t been an accident, sir, no,’ DC Wilde said as they went outside and reached the parked police car.
‘Thank God, thank God for that,’ Johnny said, relief surging through his confusion. ‘You see I’m worried – I’ve been waiting for – waiting to meet her off the flight.’ He looked down a little sheepishly at the bouquet he was carrying.
‘I’m afraid Ingrid Ostermann wasn’t on the flight, sir,’ she said.
Johnny turned to her, feeling that plunging sensation again. ‘Why – what happened?’
There was a brief moment in which both police officers glanced uncomfortably at each other before DC Wilde spoke again, deeply sympathetic.”