Stark Contrasts (An Adam Stark novel Book 1) Read Online Free PDF

just. Otherwise, lots of broken bones, internal bleeding and so on from the impact. No other injuries that I could ascertain were inflicted before the squashing, but it would be almost impossible to tell if there were.”
    There was a slight pause and she seemed to momentarily drift off before snapping back to attention.
    “Did you get anything from forensics at the scene?” she enquired.
    “No, not so far. It seems our guy is very careful. Ah, well. Thanks for the update, Dr Watkins. Please let me know if anything else occurs to you while you're compiling your report.”
    She looked at him rather curiously.
    “So, can you tell me, Detective, is it true that whoever did this, did it out of revenge?”
    Stark was taken a little off guard by this. He'd been trying very hard to keep the note quiet for now. How had she known? Something in her delivery gave him the distinct impression her repeated demotion of him was no accidental slip of the tongue. He was not warming to this pixie pathologist - unconventionally good looking or not.
    “Sorry, Dr Watkins, what makes you ask?”
    She shrugged and flashed a sneering smile. An expression that said 'Look buddy, we both know our respective departments are like sieves as far as information goes, so just spill, ok?'.
    “One of the forensic team mentioned a note to me in the passing. Something about taking revenge on the guy for tailgating. I thought it was some kind of wind-up. So, was it?”
    Stark couldn't decide whether he should indulge her with an answer or not. It was interesting  she'd spoken to someone from forensics, therefore knew what evidence was available, but still asked him first. It was almost as if she was testing him in some way; teasing him even. Still, she had spent the last few hours slicing and dicing the victim, so he could understand her curiosity. He did need to be a little guarded though; you never could tell who might have a penchant for spilling their guts to the media.
    “Well, it's true there was a note, and it does seems as though our killer has some issues with certain members of society. The thing is though, Doc. I'd appreciate it if you kept this stuff to yourself for now. You know how these things can spiral out of control.”
    There was a glimmer of a smile and a shrug.
    “Oh well, with one less arsehole on the road, my insurance renewal might come down a bit!”
    Ah, the gallows humour of those who spend unhealthy amounts of time with corpses. Stark was as toughened to death as any other cop but rarely encouraged these sort of jokes by laughing at them.
    After another apathetic handshake, he closed the door behind himself and headed back toward the car.
     
    ***
     
    Stark's television flickered and murmured in the corner of the room, but he had no idea what programmes had been vying for his attention since he'd switched it on. Almost as soon as he sat down on the couch, three hours ago, his mind started wandering.
    He'd been in London for five years now. The promotion and the chance to join the Met seemed too good an opportunity to pass up. It came just in time to rescue him from his suffocating guilt; bodily removing him from being around the memories that plagued his days and nights. London held out its hand and offered him possible redemption, a chance to start afresh. The guilt gradually receded to sit within his gut like a smouldering ember. He slowly learnt how to avoid it bursting into flame, but every now and again it would lick upwards and scorch his thoughts.
    Born in Alloa, central Scotland, his upbringing was a roller coaster of good and bad. He grew up on a tough estate, known locally as the Bottom End. Like all such places, it faced issues related to drugs, gang violence, poverty and deprivation. However, as with all such places (and contrary to popular, middle-class belief), it wasn't entirely inhabited by antisocial yobs and benefit scroungers. There were plenty of good folks; hard working and morally grounded. They may have