Blood at the Root
Chapter One
The boy's body sat propped against the graffiti-scarred wall in a ginnel off Market Street, head lolling forward, chin on chest, hands clutching his stomach. A bib of blood had spilled down the front of his white shirt.
Detective Chief Inspector Alan Banks stood in the rain and watched Peter Darby finish photographing the scene, bursts of electronic flash freezing the raindrops in mid-air as they fell. Banks was irritated. By rights, he shouldn't be there. Not in the rain at half past one on a Saturday night.
As if he didn't have enough problems already.
He had got the call the minute he walked in the door after an evening alone in Leeds at Opera North's The Pearl Fishers. Alone because his wife, Sandra, had realized on Wednesday that the benefit gala she was supposed to host for the Eastvale community center clashed with their season tickets. They had argued-Sandra expecting Banks to forgo the opera in favor of her gala-so, stubbornly, Banks had gone alone. This sort of thing had been happening a lot lately-going their own ways-to such an extent that Banks could hardly remember the last time they h ... read full excerpt from Blood at the Root ebook
