The Devil's Edge Read Online Free PDF Page A

Murfin.
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Did you think I’d been wasting my time until I got here? Oh ye of little faith.’
    ‘So you didn’t have time to call at that baker’s in Hollowgate?’
    ‘I was a model of restraint. No, I’ve rounded up information on the immediate neighbours. Modern technology is wonderful. Saves me a bit of leg work, anyway.’
    Who did they have to start with? The Barrons’ house was called Valley View for good reason. This whole section of Curbar Lane enjoyed views down into the valley of the Derwent. Along the lane Cooper had noticed a sign for Fourways, and he could just see the roof of another property beyond the trees.
    ‘Yes, Fourways is the nearest,’ said Murfin, consulting his notebook. ‘The people there are called Holland. On the other side we need to talk to a Mr Kaye at Moorside House, and Mr Edson at Riddings Lodge. Across the way are Mr and Mrs Chadwick. Their house is called The Cottage. Irony, I suppose. There are also two properties backing on to this one from The Hill. A Mrs Slattery at South Croft, and a family name of Nowak at Lane End.’
    ‘Nowak?’
    ‘That’s what it says here.’
    ‘Well, when Luke and Becky arrive, we can divide them between us.’
    ‘Looks like the lass is here now,’ said Murfin.
    DC Becky Hurst was just passing through the cordon, ducking to get under the tape. She was sensibly dressed in jeans and sweater, as if she’d known when she got up this morning that she was scheduled for a day in the country. Her hair was very short and a colour that Cooper would probably call coppery red. He was fairly sure it wasn’t the same colour she’d had last week.
    Hurst walked briskly up the drive with that businesslike air with which she approached every job, clutching her notebook and phone in her hand, her expression alert and eager. When she and Gavin Murfin were working together, they often looked like a young Border Collie shepherding an aged ram. Sometimes Cooper felt like calling ‘Come bye’ to get her to steer him into the right pen.
    ‘Morning, boss,’ she said brightly. ‘Has Gavin given you the information I pulled out on the neighbours?’
    Murfin coughed quietly, as if a piece of mint had gone down the wrong way.
    ‘Oh, you did that, Becky?’ said Cooper.
    ‘Of course. Gavin had to call in somewhere on the way.’
    ‘And is there anything else you’ve done for Gavin?’
    ‘Yes, I checked with the hospital on the condition of the householder, Mr Barron. They say he’s on the critical list.’
    ‘In hospital-speak, that means they don’t think he’ll make it,’ said Murfin.
    ‘Thanks, Gavin.’
    Hurst looked at the Barrons’ house for the first time, running a keen eye over the façade as if she was counting the windows and doors.
    ‘So it could be a double murder we’re dealing with,’ she said.
    ‘Very likely.’
    A flash of colour caught Cooper’s eye. On the edge above Riddings, two climbers were clinging to the rock face. From here, their grip on the rock looked impossibly precarious. But inch by inch, foot by foot, they were making their way up towards the edge itself. The clang of karabiners reached him clear on the air.
    The rock climbers who’d told him about Riddings Edge had mentioned that many of the routes up those gritstone faces had been given names that reflected a climber’s view of the challenges they presented. There was Torment, Hell’s Reach, Satan’s Gully, Demon Buttress. The message was pretty clear.
    Those names alone would be enough to explain why this particular escarpment had become known as the Devil’s Edge. But this summer, they weren’t the only reason.

3

    Detective Sergeant Diane Fry was starting to feel suffocated. And it wasn’t just the heat, or the airlessness of the conference room. The suffocation went much deeper. It was a slow choking of her spirit, the draining of life from her innermost being. In a few more minutes she would be brain dead. Heart dead, soul dead, her spirit