Two Evils: A DI Charlotte Savage Novel Read Free Page A

to doubt his grandad’s stories, was nothing more than a lazy, drunken fuckwit.
    Water began to slosh around Jason’s boots, the incoming tide sweeping over the mudflats. If he wasn’t careful he’d be getting wet. He pulled the spade from the mud and picked up his bait bucket. A dozen raggies wriggled in amongst the silt, no more. Hardly enough to make a journey round to the fishing shop worthwhile. Jason scanned the shoreline. Usually around this time there’d be a couple of fishermen setting up their gear in advance of the rising tide. Today there was no one. Jason sighed, wondered about tipping the bucket’s contents back into the sea. Then he caught sight of the old houseboat moored a couple of hundred metres along the shoreline. Larry the lobster fisherman lived there. As dusk fell, Larry liked to hunt for young boys. He’d capture them, keep them overnight in a huge crabbing pot, and then in the morning he’d slice them thinly and fry them in a pan with a few langoustines for his breakfast. At least that’s the story Jason’s grandad had spun him.
    Jason squelched towards the shoreline. In Torpoint the streetlights had begun to pop into life. This time of year, night fell quickly and in a few minutes it would be dark. As he reached the harder ground where the mud mixed with shingle, a car pulled up. Two men got out and sprung the boot of the hatchback. They began to unload fishing gear. Jason quickened his pace and arrived just as one of the men was lighting a cigarette. He nodded at the man and pointed at his bucket. Did they by any chance need some bait?

    ‘No, lad,’ the man said. ‘We’re sorted, ta.’
    Jason trudged away along the shoreline. Another hundred metres and he’d cut up into town and head home. Over at the old houseboat a light flickered in one of the windows. Looked as if Larry was in. The lobster man wouldn’t pay him anything, but perhaps Jason could swap the worms for a brace of crab. Despite his grandfather’s tales, Jason figured the man was worth a visit. It was the only way he might get a reward for his hard work. In another couple of minutes he was at the narrow gangplank which led from the shoreline to the boat. On one side of the gangplank a rope hung from a series of rickety posts. Jason stepped onto the wooden slats and walked out to the boat. Larry’s accommodation was a jumble of marine plywood nailed onto uprights and resembled a floating cowshed. Jason reached the end of the gangplank. He edged around the side deck of the boat until he found what he guessed must be the front door. He knocked. There was no reply. Either Larry was asleep or he wasn’t in. Jason shivered in the damp night air and turned away. He hurried across the gangplank and back to the shore, strangely grateful Larry hadn’t answered.
    ‘I’ve been looking for a boy like you, Jason.’ The voice hissed in the darkness as a shadow stepped from behind a concrete groyne. ‘Want to come along with me?’
    The shadow jumped forward and Jason felt a hand across his mouth. Then there was a grunt and something slid around his throat, a thin strip of leather tightening across his windpipe. Jason slipped to the ground, aware as he did so he’d let go of his bucket, the worms slithering free and disappearing into the soft mud.

Chapter Three
    Near Bovisand, Devon. Tuesday 20th October. 6.47 a.m.
    Something woke Savage early. There’d been a bang from outside, a splintering noise. She reached out to prod Pete into consciousness. He stirred, mumbled something, but then turned over. He’d been out at an official Navy dinner the night before and the meal had turned into a serious drinking session. Disappointed Pete hadn’t been around to discuss the inquest, she’d opened a bottle of wine for herself. Half a glass had been enough to make her realise alcohol wasn’t going to help and, after she’d put Jamie to bed and checked on Samantha’s progress with a history project, she’d read for a while and