Chapter One
On the day the first woman died, Mark Roper had radio trouble. At the start of
his shift, he had been patrolling in the valley, in the deep dead spot where the
gritstone plateau blocked out the signal from the telephone interface point at
Bradwell. The silence had been unnerving, even then. It had made him conscious
of his isolation in the slowly dying landscape, and it had begun to undermine
his confidence and stir up the old uncertainties. But Mark wasn't frightened
then. It was only later that he had been frightened.
Normally, this was his favorite time of year — these few weeks of hesitation
before the start of winter. He liked to watch the hills changing color day by
day, and the Peak District villages emptying of visitors. But he could tell that
today wasn't quite normal. There was a feeling about this particular Sunday that
made him uncomfortable to be alone on Ringha ... read full excerpt from Dancing with the Virgins: A Crime Novel ebook
