Free The Disciple by Steven Dunne

blackness, he fancied he could make out two lines on the ground that might have been flatter than the rest of the vegetation. He hesitated briefly, then crept along the track into the darkness.
    A few moments later the track widened out into a flat and well-tended clearing, completely surrounded by high walls of rock and dense foliage. It was deathly quiet in this sheltered bowl and unnaturally hot. The man’s recently shaved head began to itch in the heat. He guessed that this might once have been a disused quarry or part of an opencast mine. But interesting though the geography might be, what drew the man’s immediate attention was the line of vehicles parked along the far rock wall. There were eight different vehicles in various stages of decay, from vaguely roadworthy down to rusted hulks, and, from what he could see, all were some kind of motor home. The newest he recognised – a bright yellow VW camper – and its tyre tracks were still visible across the well turned soil.
    The man closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Something brushed his cheek and he opened his eyes at once. He shivered now, despite the heat. Maybe it had been a flying insect or a bird’s wing because no foliage hung nearby. Maybe. What he couldn’t explain was the sensation he’d felt, like the scrunch of long fingernails dragging across his day-old beard and, more, the distant scent of a woman’s perfume hanging on the still air.
    He turned the light back on and moved closer to the line of vehicles, stopping at the VW camper. His flashlight followed a line of five faint scratches along the side of the bodywork, travelling from the door handle backtowards the rear door. The man shone his light quickly at the spot on the ground where the marks ended, cupping his hand over the beam to limit its visibility. A long painted fingernail, twisted and torn from its digit, lay on the ground – and beside it were more scratchings in the ground. He stared intently at the earth, which was firmer here.
    ‘HELP,’ he read. After a few minutes, he turned and made his way back to the main track.

Chapter Four
     
    ‘A new book released today offers a chilling insight into the horrifying events of two years ago when the serial killer known as The Reaper struck in the Derby suburb of Drayfin. The family of Robert Wallis were subjected to a brutal attack in their home which left both parents and their eleven-year-old daughter, Kylie, dead. All the victims had been drugged and their throats cut. The only survivors were teenage son Jason, who was out of the house that night, and baby daughter Bianca, who was there but was spared.
    ‘Brian Burton, crime correspondent at the
Derby Telegraph
, covered the case extensively and hopes to throw new light on the events of that night. Rose Atkins went along to his book launch to speak to him for
East Midlands Today!
    ‘In Search of The Reaper
by Brian Burton chronicles the terrible events of the night almost two years ago when Derby became the latest city after London and Leeds to be visited by the notorious serial killer, The Reaper. After he left, three people, including an eleven-year-old girl, were dead and two other children orphaned. I asked the author why he felt compelled to write this book.’
    ‘I covered this case from the start, Rose, and I felt it was important to share with the people of Derbyshire, and hopefully beyond, some of the reasons why this terrifying killer struck in our city and also to highlight some of the mistakes that have allowed this butcher to remain at large.’
    ‘In your book, Brian, you’re very critical of Derbyshire CID. Can you tell us why?’
    ‘I don’t think there’s been nearly enough analysis of what went wrong during the Wallis investigation and I hope the book sheds new light onto what more could have been done.’
    ‘You’re talking about the roles played by Detective Inspector Damen Brook and Chief Superintendent Evelyn McMaster.’
    ‘It’s no secret that