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Cold Granite. Stuart MacBrideЧитать онлайн книгу.

Cold Granite - Stuart MacBride


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       Copyright

      Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

      1 London Bridge Street

      London SE1 9GF

       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2005

      Copyright © Stuart MacBride 2005

      Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2016

      Type style by Blacksheep

      Cover photograph © Shutterstock.com

      Stuart MacBride asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

      A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

      This is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, living or dead, real events, businesses, organizations and localities are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. All names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.

      All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

      Source ISBN: 9780007419449

       Ebook Edition © FEBRUARY 2009 ISBN: 9780007298976

       Version: 2018-01-31

       Dedication

       For Fiona

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Copyright

      Dedication

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Chapter 19

       Chapter 20

       Chapter 21

       Chapter 22

       Chapter 23

       Chapter 24

       Chapter 25

       Chapter 26

       Chapter 27

       Chapter 28

       Chapter 29

       Chapter 30

       Chapter 31

       Chapter 32

       Chapter 33

       Chapter 34

       Chapter 35

       Chapter 36

       Chapter 37

       Chapter 38

       Chapter 39

       Chapter 40

       Acknowledgements

       Read on for an exclusive extract of the latest novel A Dark So Deadly

       Keep Reading

       About the Author

       By Stuart MacBride

       About the Publisher

       1

      Dead things had always been special to him. Their delicate coldness. The feel of the skin. The ripe, sweet smell as they decayed. As they returned to God.

      The thing in his hands hadn’t been dead for long.

      Just a few hours ago it was full of life.

      It was happy.

      It was dirty and flawed and filthy …

      But now it was pure.

      With gentle hands he placed it reverently on top of the pile with the others. Everything in here was alive once, was busy and noisy and dirty and flawed and filthy. But now they were with God. Now they were at peace.

      He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, bathing in the smells. Some fresh, some corpulent. All lovely. This was what it must smell like to be God, he thought, smiling down at his collection. This was what it must smell like to be in heaven. Surrounded by the dead.

      A smile spread across his lips like fire in a burning building. He really should take his medication, but not now. Not yet.

      Not when there were so many dead things to enjoy.

       2

      It was pissing down outside. The rain battered against the blue plastic SOC tent’s walls and roof, clattering in the confined space, fighting against the constant drone of the portable generators, making conversation impossible. Not that anyone was feeling particularly chatty at a quarter past midnight on a Monday morning.

      Not with David Reid lying there. On the freezing ground.

      At one end of the lopsided tent a four foot stretch of ditch was cordoned off with blue police tape. Dark, greasy water glinted in the spotlights. The rest


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