Download E-books Stalkers (Detective Mark Heckenburg, Book 1) PDF

By Paul Finch

Get #HookedonHeck with the 1st publication within the number 1 bestselling DS Mark Heckenburg series.

"All he needed to do was once identify the girl he sought after. It used to be that simple. they'd do the entire not easy work."

Detective Sergeant Mark 'Heck' Heckenburg is investigating the disappearance of 38 varied ladies. every one used to be chuffed and winning until eventually they vanished and not using a trace.

Desperate to discover her lacking sister, Lauren Wraxford seeks out Heck’s aid. jointly they input a seedy underworld of gangsters and organised crime.

But once they pay attention rumours in regards to the so-called 'Nice men membership' they hit a brick wall. they're the crowd that not anyone will discuss. as the great men can set up something you will have. supplied you pay the price…

Dark, terrifying and unforgettable. Stalkers will maintain enthusiasts of Stuart MacBride and Katia Lief having a look over their shoulder.

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Additional resources for Stalkers (Detective Mark Heckenburg, Book 1)

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Specially if it’s a copper. We … we don’t like pigs, and don’t brain letting ’em recognize. We don’t provide a shit. we glance after our personal …’ The kneeler chuckled. ‘I wish to Christ you by no means need to take care of me. a role lot of you, and also you acquired fucking leathered. ’ ‘It … it happens,’ Ogburn stammered. ‘Look … am i able to return to health facility now? Please. I’ve instructed you every thing i do know approximately Ronnie. I’m no longer his mate. I’m the single one he talks to those days, and that’s merely coz I’m the opposite facet of the bar whilst he’s maintaining it up. ’ ‘Yes, well,’ jogging Stick stated, ‘more the pity for you. ’ ‘Eh …? ’ The kneeler picked up a heavy wood lid which was once approximately a similar oblong form because the crate during which their prisoner lay. Ogburn screamed hysterically because the others closed in with hammers and nails, and the lid was once slammed down on most sensible of him. ‘What the fuck are you doing? ’ he shrieked, hoping his voice can be heard above the deafening blows. ‘What the fuck is that this? No, no no … please no, please no! Don’t bury me alive! Please, pricey God no, please don’t fucking bury me alive . . . ’ The hammering ceased, the lid now fastened firmly at the crate. ‘Relax, Toady,’ strolling Stick shouted right down to him. ‘We’re unlikely to bury you alive. ’ ‘Oh thank God, thank God …’ ‘Too very like labor digging a grave. So we’re going to bury you within the send Canal in its place. ’ ‘No! NO! ’ however the muffled wail sounded for just a few seconds as they manhandled the heavy field around the disused dock, after which, with a lot grunting and sweating tipped it over the facet. It broke the silt-black waters with a thunderous effect, and sank quickly from view. bankruptcy 28 Pat McCulkin was once a well-known determine on his domestic turf of Deptford. yet those that knew him might were stunned to work out him strolling alongside Creek highway at six o’clock on a Wednesday morning. As ordinary, he minimize a grumpy determine: he used to be sixty, with thinning gray hair, and a leathery, shrew-like face. earrings dangled from either his ears and tattoos coated so much of his scrawny physique, notwithstanding at the moment, as he wore a flat cap and tacky raincoat, those in basic terms confirmed on his neck and arms. having said that, they gave him a under healthy visual appeal. it will probably purely be six o’clock, yet as he walked sullenly in the direction of Greenwich, he lit what was once already his 3rd cigarette of the morning. after all, whilst he obtained there, the individual he was once purported to be assembly – who’d already frustrated him through calling him at domestic at God understands what hour – used to be no longer current. McCulkin stood by myself on a bleak stretch of riverside esplanade. there have been no different pedestrians round. There wasn’t even a lot site visitors at the street. at the back of him, the Thames sloshed opposed to the hull of the Cutty Sark, the onetime tea clipper now grew to become museum send. McCulkin glanced up. The sky was once overcast and it used to be surprisingly cool for August. He swore less than his breath, coughed, hawked up a lump of phlegm and spat it at the pavement. And to his shock, a mobile started to ring. He took out his cellular. No name used to be registering on it. wondered, he pivoted round, ultimately targeting a waste bin connected to the put up of a site visitors signal.

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