Shallow Ground (Detective Ford), Andy Maslen [ebook reader with built in dictionary .txt] 📗

ALSO BY ANDY MASLEN

DI Stella Cole:

Hit and Run

Hit Back Harder

Hit and Done

Let the Bones Be Charred

Gabriel Wolfe Thrillers:

Trigger Point

Reversal of Fortune

Blind Impact

Condor

First Casualty

Fury

Rattlesnake

Minefield

No Further

Torpedo

Three Kingdoms

Ivory Nation

Blood Loss – A Vampire Story

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Text copyright © 2020 by Andy Maslen

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattle

www.apub.com

Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

ISBN-13: 9781542021098

ISBN-10: 154202109X

Cover design by Dominic Forbes

To Jo, with love, as always.

CONTENTS

START READING

SUMMER | PEMBROKESHIRE COAST, WALES

DAY ONE, 5.00 P.M.

DAY TWO, 8.15 A.M.

DAY TWO, 8.59 A.M.

DAY TWO, 9.05 A.M.

DAY TWO, 9.31 A.M.

DAY TWO, 10.00 A.M.

DAY TWO, NOON

THREE WEEKS EARLIER

DAY TWO, 6.30 P.M.

DAY THREE, 10.00 A.M.

SPRING, THIRTY YEARS EARLIER

DAY THREE, 2.55 P.M.

DAY FOUR, 3.15 A.M.

DAY FOUR, 8.23 A.M.

DAY FIVE, 8.15 A.M.

DAY SEVEN, 8.35 A.M.

DAY SEVEN, 8.55 A.M.

DAY SEVEN, 9.30 A.M.

DAY EIGHT, 9.15 A.M.

DAY NINE, 8.35 A.M.

DAY NINE, 11.45 P.M.

DAY TEN, 9.15 A.M.

DAY TEN, 11.38 A.M.

DAY TEN, 12.30 P.M.

DAY ELEVEN, 9.05 A.M.

DAY ELEVEN, 2.00 P.M.

DAY ELEVEN, 7.45 P.M.

DAY ELEVEN, 9.00 P.M.

DAY ELEVEN, 9.55 P.M.

DAY TWELVE, 9.30 A.M.

DAY FOURTEEN, 8.15 A.M.

DAY FOURTEEN, 9.30 A.M.

DAY FOURTEEN, 6.50 P.M.

DAY FOURTEEN, 8.30 P.M.

DAY FIFTEEN, 1.15 P.M.

DAY SIXTEEN, 11.00 A.M.

DAY SIXTEEN, 11.45 A.M.

DAY SIXTEEN, 2.10 P.M.

DAY SEVENTEEN, 10.45 A.M.

DAY SEVENTEEN, 2.13 P.M.

DAY EIGHTEEN, 9.05 A.M.

DAY EIGHTEEN, 9.30 A.M.

DAY EIGHTEEN, 2.05 P.M.

DAY TWENTY-ONE, 8.30 A.M.

DAY TWENTY-ONE, 1.19 P.M.

DAY TWENTY-ONE, 7.00 P.M.

DAY TWENTY-ONE, 7.25 P.M.

DAY TWENTY-ONE, 7.44 P.M.

DAY TWENTY-ONE, 8.45 P.M.

DAY TWENTY-ONE, 10.03 P.M.

DAY TWENTY-ONE, 11.55 P.M.

DAY TWENTY-TWO, 9.00 A.M.

DAY TWENTY-TWO, 10.45 A.M.

DAY TWENTY-TWO, 4.02 P.M.

DAY TWENTY-TWO, 4.59 P.M.

DAY TWENTY-TWO, 7.59 P.M.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

‘The animal’s heart is the basis of its life.’

William Harvey, 1578–1657

SUMMER | PEMBROKESHIRE COAST, WALES

Ford leans out from the limestone rock face halfway up Pen-y-holt sea stack, shaking his forearms to keep the blood flowing. He and Lou have climbed the established routes before. Today, they’re attempting a new line he spotted. She was reluctant at first, but she’s also competitive and he really wanted to do the climb.

‘I’m not sure. It looks too difficult,’ she’d said when he suggested it.

‘Don’t tell me you’ve lost your bottle?’ he said with a grin.

‘No, but . . .’

‘Well, then. Let’s go. Unless you’d rather climb one of the easy ones again?’

She frowned. ‘No. Let’s do it.’

They scrambled down a gully, hopping across boulders from the cliff to a shallow ledge just above sea level at the bottom of the route. She stands there now, patiently holding his ropes while he climbs. But the going’s much harder than he expected. He’s wasted a lot of time attempting to navigate a tricky bulge. Below him, Lou plays out rope through a belay device.

He squints against the bright sunshine as a light wind buffets him. Herring gulls wheel around the stack, calling in alarm at this brightly coloured interloper assaulting their territory.

He looks down at Lou and smiles. Her eyes are a piercing blue. He remembers the first time he saw her. He was captivated by those eyes, drawn in, powerless, like an old wooden sailing ship spiralling down into a whirlpool. He paid her a clumsy compliment, which she accepted with more grace than he’d managed.

Lou smiles back up at him now. Even after seven years of marriage, his heart thrills that she should bestow such a radiant expression on him.

Rested, he starts climbing again, trying a different approach to the overhang. He reaches up and to his right for a block. It seems solid enough, but his weight pulls it straight off.

He falls outwards, away from the flat plane of lichen-scabbed limestone, and jerks to a stop at the end of his rope. The force turns him into a human pendulum. He swings inwards, slamming face-first against the rock and gashing his chin. Then out again to dangle above Lou on the ledge.

Ford tries to stay calm as he slowly rotates. His straining fingertips brush the rock face then arc into empty air.

Then he sees two things that frighten him more than the fall.

The rock he dislodged, as large as a microwave, has smashed down on to Lou. She’s sitting awkwardly, white-faced, and he can see blood on her leggings. Those sapphire-blue eyes are wide with pain.

And waves are now lapping at the ledge. The tide is on its way in, not out. Somehow, he misread the tide table, or he took too long getting up the first part of the climb. He damns himself for his slowness.

‘I can lower you down,’ she screams up at him. ‘But my leg, I think it’s broken.’

She gets him down safely and he kisses her fiercely before crouching by her right leg to assess the damage. There’s a sharp lump distending the bloody Lycra, and he knows what it is. Bone.

‘It’s bad, Lou. I think it’s a compound fracture. But if you can stand on your good leg, we can get back the way we came.’

‘I can’t!’ she cries, pain contorting her face. ‘Call the coastguard.’

He pulls out his phone, but there’s no mobile service down here.

‘Shit! There’s no signal.’

‘You’ll have to go for help.’

‘I can’t leave you, darling.’

A wave crashes over the ledge and douses them both.

Her eyes widen. ‘You have to! The tide’s coming in.’

He knows she’s right. And it’s all his fault. He pulled the block off the crag.

‘Lou, I—’

She grabs his hand and squeezes so hard it hurts. ‘You have to.’

Another wave hits. His mouth fills with seawater. He swallows half of it