The Coop by E C Deacon
English | 2019 | Mystery/Thriller | ePUB | 498 Kb.
The Coop : Everyone has a calling. His is murder…
When a woman staggers, naked, from a river, she has no idea that she’s been saved from a killer by a text message from a dead woman.
Laura Fell is horrified when she discovers of her friend Gina’s suicide. But when the autopsy reveals Gina died before her arrival at the house, she is perplexed.
Everton Bowe, a cop whose career is as dead as his marriage, insists there was no-one else present. But he’s wrong.
Meanwhile, his ex-lover, DC Helen Lake, insists there are similarities between the traumatized river woman and the cold case of three missing women; the victims, she fears, of a serial killer.
So, when a strange object, matching one found on the river victim, is found in Gina’s house, Everton and Helen’s suspicions are raised.
If someone was at Gina’s house could he also be the river attacker?
Is there a serial killer on the loose?
If so, what is his motive, and the macabre significance of his calling card?
“Frieda smiled solicitously and shovelled another portion of mushroom risotto into her mouth, signalling an end to her part in the discussion. But Megan, bridling at what she perceived as a challenge to her authority, felt obligated to have the final word.
“And I wasn’t late, although I’m not blaming Lolly.”
Lolly? groaned Laura to herself. Christ. Why does she have to make everyone sound like a character out of a Victorian bloody novel? Even her dogs are called Bathsheba and Gabriel Oak.
“She was waiting for the elusive Mr Hart,” continued Megan.
Solicitous smiles were offered. Laura tried to ignore them. She’d met Don Hart at Rendezvous, a dating club for “mature singles” run by his ex-wife, which she always thought a bit strange. But ever the pragmatist, and good-looking and available men in their forties being in short supply, Laura had let it go. Sometimes she wished she hadn’t.Donhad grown jealous of her friends,calling them “the coven” and Megan “Akela” – although he’d never dare say it to her face.
“So, where is he?” whispered Frieda from behind her large glass of Chilean Sauvignon Blanc.
“God knows.” Laura shrugged. “I expect he’ll phone later with some lame excuse.”