Shadows of Justice (The TV Detective, Book 6)
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A lethal mistake long ago that condemned thousands to a lingering death. A government cover-up and a lust for vengeance that can never be eased by the passing years, even if it claims many innocent lives.
17-year-old Annette Newman is kidnapped as she serves a self-imposed penance for her privileged position. The crime appears mundane, designed only to make money, until the discovery of the ransom note and the mysterious letters PP printed so very deliberately at the end.
The kidnappers face trial. The evidence is fragile, only just sufficient to put before a jury. But in an aged and hushed courtroom a unique verdict is returned. It's a decision which has deadly consequences for Annette. And for the kidnappers, too.
When the law fails, sometimes vengeance can be the only choice that remains.
plenty of space to hide behind. It was spattered with mud, the green and white of a Devon flag proudly positioned within the back windscreen. Flowers flapped in the wind. A chip of gravel crunched under Dan’s foot. He stopped. Claire did the same. But there was nothing. No movement, no reaction, no attack. They stepped onwards. Fifteen metres now. Claire edged a little further away, to get a better angle to see around the Jeep. More thunder rumbled in the distance, but the rain was a little
could from the firm, and more importantly to save up the money required for his next move: the tradition of taking on a market stall. He worked punishing hours, but fared well. The following year Roger Newman opened his first store on the edge of the city. The year after, it took over the pet shop next door and doubled in size. Twelve months later, a second store opened. And after three more years there were 12 branches of Roger’s Rugs across Devon and Cornwall, and plans afoot to begin an
claim that was a professional requirement. The caring cameraman and guardian that was Nigel had jogged to a corner shop and bought a half bottle of cheap whisky. He offered it across as Dan prepared for the live broadcast. The gift was so gratefully received it was difficult not to snatch. The amber firewater restored colour to the complexion, roughened the voice and steadied the nerves. And so, once more, they’d got away with it. Lizzie rang afterwards and pointedly didn’t mention Dan hanging
a killer, have you? A double killer in fact, damn it.” “No, Your Honour,” Adam soothed. “But you’ll appreciate—” “Of course you bloody have, man!” Templar interrupted. “I could scarcely have made myself more of a suspect, with my little speech about justice not being served. I could have gone on a fair bit more, I can tell you. Bloody juries and their nonsense. You’d be a fool if you didn’t want to speak to me.” Adam’s chosen attempt to defuse the bomb was to proffer a hand. Templar eyed it
approached the building, Dan looked up. In one of the many windows of the towering edifice, he was almost sure he saw the bearded face of the foreman of the jury, watching them. *** Reception was staffed by a man and woman who had forgotten how to smile. Dan and Adam politely introduced themselves, were begrudgingly directed to the fifth floor and, with an afterthought, given security passes. “That should sort out any terrorist threat,” Adam commented. The lift looked like it dated from the