Two Evils: A DI Charlotte Savage Novel Read Online Free PDF

morning. He’s in a high-ceilinged room in a barn on the moor. He rented the barn for a song and paid a year’s money in advance. The place is isolated. Nobody comes here. No one’s going to disturb him. For the Shepherd’s purpose the barn is perfect.
    He breathes in, his nostrils assaulted by an odour of grease and oil. In front of him, on a workbench, an array of tools lie in neat rows. Pliers, hammers, wrenches, saws, screwdrivers, spanners, punches, clamps. Tools for making. Tools for breaking and holding. For cutting bits of metal, bending bits of metal, drilling bits of metal.

    He stands back from the bench and turns to the centre of the room. There. A shiny creation of gleaming metal and stainless steel and cogs and wheels and rods which turn or slide round and round or back and forth.
    God’s altar .
    The Shepherd gasps. His creation is both beautiful and terrifying, the implications profoundly disturbing. Right now the sight is too much; he must escape the confines of the room. Fresh air is what he needs.
    Outside he leans against a wall and slumps down, his shoulder snagging on the rough stone of the barn. He slips to the floor and sits there, exhausted. He lets out a long breath and the air clouds in front of him, the vapour drifting up into the brooding sky. Finally, after weeks of toil, his work is complete.
    For a moment he lets his mind wander to the man with the skull. You see, he knows all about the man who buries things in the dirty earth.
    The boy who digs in the grubby soil …
    Yes, that’s what this is all about.
    The Shepherd holds his hands out, clasping them together in prayer.
    ‘Please, God. Don’t forsake me now, give me the strength to carry out your wishes.’ As he says the words he feels a rush of adrenaline. There’s a part of him which fears what is to come, fears the eventual outcome, but he knows he has to fight against his demons in order to succeed.
    And with God’s blessing he will.
    He presses his back against the stone wall of the building and looks at the streaks of mist scudding low across the moor. Earlier, the dawn had been veined with skeins of vermilion, the undersides of the clouds patterned like the web of some giant spider.

    ‘Red sky in the morning,’ he mutters to himself, smiling. ‘Shepherd’s warning.’
    He struggles to his feet, a gust tousling his hair. He turns and looks west to where a sheet of rain marches across the landscape. The first drops reach him, spattering in the mud at his feet and then wetting his face.
    Soon the storm will sweep over the hills and the valleys and rush through the villages and the towns. The wind will scour the sinners until they are naked. Then the Shepherd will lead them to the altar and there they will prostrate themselves before God and beg for forgiveness. And at the end will come the boy who plays with the skull.
    And he will be judged too. And he will not be forgiven.

Chapter Five
    Jennycliff, near Plymstock. Tuesday 20th October. 11.47 a.m.
    At Jennycliff, Riley turned off and drove down the access road to where the wooden cafe sat at the top of the cliffs. He spotted DC Enders standing by the path which led down to the shore. Enders wore a high-end red Berghaus, the hood raised against a light drizzle swirling in from the sea on a gusty breeze. A tangle of brown hair poked out of the hood above his boyish round face. The DC was a good few years younger than Riley and already married with three kids, but despite their differences, he felt an affinity with Enders. Perhaps it was because Enders’ Irish roots were, in a way, similar to his own distant Caribbean heritage. Perhaps it was because he just liked the lad.
    Enders stood next to a PC, the officer explaining to a dog walker with a lively border collie why she couldn’t go down to the beach.
    ‘No access until further notice, ma’am,’ the PC said. ‘In police jargon, it’s what we call an ongoing incident.’
    ‘Nicely put,’ Riley said, as the dog