Written in Blood by Chris Carter (Robert Hunter #11)
English | 2020 | Mystery/Thriller| ePUB | 3.5 Mb
FROM THE AUTHOR OF THE SUNDAY TIMES NUMBER ONE BESTSELLER HUNTING EVIL COMES THE NEXT COMPULSIVE THRILLER IN THE ROBERT HUNTER SERIES
A serial killer will stop at nothing…
His most valuable possession has been stolen.
Now he must retrieve it, at any cost.
Angela Wood wanted to teach the man a lesson. It was a bag, just like all the others.
But when she opens it, the worst nightmare of her life begins.
A journal ends up at Robert Hunter’s desk. It soon becomes clear that there is a serial killer on the loose. And if he can’t stop him in time, more people will die.
If you have read it
You must die…
As she sipped her cocktail, her eyes began scanning the crowd. Not that she was reconsidering her decision to call it a night. To Angela, scanning people around her, no matter where she was, had become second nature . . . a reflex . . . a force of habit. It was something she did without even realizing that she was doing it. Within twenty seconds, she had singled out three of the easiest pickings she had ever seen.
Four tables to her right – two forty-something men. Both positively tipsy. The one wearing glasses had placed his wallet in his jacket pocket and then placed the folded jacket on the empty stool to his right, wallet pocket facing up.
Three tables in front of her – two twenty-something women sipping margaritas. The one with her back to Angela had her unzipped handbag hanging from the back of her chair.
Next table along to her right – a tall gentleman whose attention was cemented onto his cellphone. He had placed a very elegant leather bag on the floor, several inches away from his feet. Angela hadn’t seen the contents of the bag, but she was willing to bet that it would be something valuable.
People have absolutely no clue, Angela thought, as she shook her head ever so slightly. It’s like they never learn.
As Angela’s attention moved back from the bag on the floor to the man and his cellphone, an older gentleman, probably in his mid-sixties, approached the man. Angela could hear their conversation.
‘Excuse me,’ the older gentleman said. He was carrying a whisky tumbler. ‘Do you mind if I rest my drink on your table? It’s quite busy tonight.’
The tall man did not break eye contact with his phone.
‘I’d rather you didn’t.’
Angela frowned at the man’s reply, as if she’d heard it wrong.
The older gentleman was clearly taken aback, too.
‘I’ll just use a tiny corner of the table,’ the older gentleman tried again. ‘Just to rest my drink. I won’t bother you.’
‘Well, you’re already bothering me,’ the tall man said back, finally locking eyes with the older gentleman. ‘Go find somewhere else to rest your drink, old-timer. This table is taken.’
Angela’s eyes widened as she stared at the tall man in disbelief. What a total dickhead, she thought.
Lost for words, the old man stood still for a moment, not really knowing what to do.
‘I said fuck off, old man,’ the tall man said, his voice firm.
Shocked, the old man turned and walked away.
Angela was just about to offer her table to the older man when ‘Reckless Angela’ whispered in her ear.
‘That guy with the phone is a total and utter dick, Angie. You could teach him a lesson.’
Angela’s eyes went back to the man’s leather bag on the floor.