Love You Dead Read Online Free

cunning. The man’s estranged wife, Sandra, had been interviewed exhaustively, and exonerated from any complicity. She seemed very
happy – and relieved – to be away from him. The only one who appeared to be missing the doctor was the family dog, Smut, now living with her and apparently pining. Incredible though it
was, for all the years that they had lived together, she’d had no idea that the derelict house next door to their Brighton mansion, where Crisp had carried out some, if not all, of his
atrocities, had been owned by an offshore company set up by her husband.
    Very recently the police had received possible evidence that Crisp had survived.
    It was in the form of a sinister email that the doctor had subsequently sent to one of Roy’s team, some weeks after his disappearance – and presumed death.
    The source of the email was apparently untraceable. An anonymous Hotmail account that could have come from anywhere in the world. And which, just possibly, could have been sent, on a time delay,
weeks earlier.
    Fortunately, so far February had been a calm time, with no reported homicides in Sussex, leaving Roy Grace free to work, doggedly, through contacts at police forces throughout Europe, the USA,
Australia, Africa and the Far East for any signs of the doctor. He had also spent some time with a desk officer at Interpol, ensuring that Crisp’s details and photograph were circulated
around the world.
    Crisp’s MO was to target women in their early twenties with long brown hair. Summaries of every unsolved murder matching this profile, from within the UK and overseas, were stacked all
round Roy and filled numerous folders on his computer.
    And he was still no further forward. There were around two hundred countries in the world, and right now Dr Edward Crisp could be sitting in a hotel room, with his bald head and big glasses and
smug grin, in any one of them.
    Although a few, especially Syria and North Korea, could probably be safely eliminated.
    ‘So where the hell are you, you bastard?’ Grace said aloud in frustration.
    ‘Right here, O master!’
    He looked up, startled, to see his mate DI Glenn Branson, a black, shaven-headed man-mountain, standing in front of him with a broad smile.
    ‘You’re not looking a happy bunny,’ Branson said.
    ‘Yeah, you know why not? Because every time I start to feel a happy bunny, I see Edward bloody Crisp’s face grinning at me.’
    ‘Well, I’ve got some news for you.’
    ‘Tell me.’
    Branson reached over and placed an email printout on Grace’s desk.
    Grace read it, then looked up at his mate. ‘Shit.’

4
Tuesday 10 February
    Shortly before 6 p.m., Jodie woke up with a start, on the big soft duvet in her Courchevel hotel room, to the sound of a helicopter flying low and fast over the resort. She
could see through the window it was almost dark outside. Her mouth was dry and she had a slight headache.
    She drank some water, went over to the desk and flipped open the lid of her Mac laptop. She tapped in her password, then checked her emails. Immediately she smiled. Another one from him!
    My dearest Jodie,
    I trust you are having a good time, wherever in the world this finds you on your travels. For too long you’ve been tantalizing me with your lovely messages. I
     love that very very sexy picture you sent me yesterday. I feel a truly wonderful connection between us and cannot wait to finally meet you! When do you think that might be? I’m now
     settled into my glorious new beachfront house in Brighton where I have some very lovely celebrity neighbours. Please tell me it won’t be long?
    Fondest love, Rowley
    She typed her reply.
    My very sexy Rowley!
    I agree, even though we’ve not yet met I feel massively in touch with you, too, and just love how you think. I really do! And I love how you make me feel just by
     reading your words! I plan to be back in Brighton just as soon as I’ve finished my business commitments here in New York – or, as