Devil's Demise Read Online Free

young son David, and he loved both deeply. He was the opposite of Taylor, a faithful and loving man who lived for his family, but enjoyed the thrill of work.
    Detective Inspector Martin Findlay, on the other hand, was a rotund chap; a little dishevelled, his clothes stretching to fit his ever-growing figure. His hand was never too far away from the common household doughnut. He relied heavily upon his far more experienced team surrounding him, one of the boys’ club promoted beyond his ability. An aggressive man when challenged by his subordinates, a weakness in his personality and failure to lead effectively. An old school cop, one who thought women should never have been introduced to the force - and gays, well that was another story altogether. He preyed on other people’s success, reaping the rewards it brought, taking ownership of the team’s hard work. He was also married, but regularly suggested he was unhappy and was only with her because it was too expensive to leave her. He had had affairs in the past, but his appearancethese days now limited his chance of much success. He letched over any women in the office, rubbing close at any opportunity and making sleazy unwanted comments when he could get away with it. He found Taylor attractive - a waste of a good woman, he had been heard to say to his peers of similar backgrounds - and thought gays shouldn’t be allowed in the force.

Chapter 3: Survivor
    Susan opened her eyes; the room was still dark. She took a shallow breath and a gripping pain rippled through her lungs, so sharp it made it painful to breathe, her deep internal wounds rupturing afresh as she moved. Her hair was matted with dried blood that clung to her scalp like glue. She slowly looked around the room, terrified in case he was still there, watching her lying on the bed, enjoying her taking her last breath. She listened for a few moments, motionless, making sure she was alone, then tentatively she rolled over, reaching backwards with her tied hands to her bedside table; she had put her phone there before she went to bed. “Please, please, please, be there.” Her fingers fumbled across the surface, groping for the familiar shape; she recoiled in agony as the countless wounds pulled apart as she moved. Blood oozed from the freshly opened tears and brutal stab wounds all over her, the bed now soaked through with her blood. She pulled herself gradually to the edge of the bed, fresh tears running down her face. The pain intensified as she leant backwards over the edge; the phone just out of reach. She yelled, “GOD DAMN YOU, just a few more inches, please!” She flopped from the bed, thudding full weight onto the floor.
    She paused for a second, gasping for breath, phone in hand, disbelief that her nightmare might soon be over. The bruising tumble had reengaged all of her pain receptors; face first with her tied hands behind her, she had been unable to break the fall. With her bound fingers shaking uncontrollably, she used her touch memory and eventually managed to dial 999. Her heart leapt as she heard the voice of safety faintly at the end of the phone.
    “What service do you require?”
    Voice quivering, she replied, “Police.”
    “Could you speak up please?”
    “POLICE, POLICE! I NEED HELP, HELP ME! Please, I’m dying.”
    The phone was behind her and she worried that her words would not be heard by the operator.
    “Just relax, we’ll get to you, what is your address?” the call taker continued, but there was no reply, just the sound of weak breathing barely audible from the end of the line.
    “Just you stay with us, don’t you put the phone down, hold on, hold on, we’ll get someone to you right now, you’ll be alright!”
    A loud crash was heard from down the stairs. The front door crumbled beneath the door ram, as her rescuers burst in, shouting, “POLICE, POLICE.” Officers spilled into the house, systematically searching each room, calling out to her as they made their way