No Place to Hide. Jack Slater
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A house fire. A suspicious death. A serial killer to catch.
When a body is found in a house fire DS Peter Gayle is called to the scene. It looks like an accidental death, but the evidence just doesn’t add up.
With only one murder victim they can’t make any calls, but it looks like a serial killer is operating in Exeter and it’s up to Pete to track him down.
But with his wife still desperate for news on their missing son and his boss watching his every move, the pressure is on for Pete to bring the murderer to justice before it is too late.
No Place to Hide
Jack Slater
ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES
Contents
JACK SLATER
Raised in a farming family in Northamptonshire, England, the author had a varied career before settling in biomedical science. He has worked in farming, forestry, factories and shops as well as spending five years as a service engineer.
Widowed by cancer at thirty-three, he recently remarried in the Channel Islands, where he worked for several months through the summer of 2012.
He has been writing since childhood, in both fiction and non-fiction. No Place to Hide is his second crime novel and the second in the series of the DS Peter Gayle mysteries.
As always, I could not have completed this book without the assistance, in so many ways, of my wife, Prunella. Former Thames Valley Police officer Rick Ell once again gave invaluable advice when it was needed, as did my editor, Victoria Oundjian at Harper Collins. Without them, this would not have been the book that it is. I would also like to take this opportunity to thank the in-house artwork team at Harper Collins, who I think have excelled themselves with the cover art for this novel. The location is instantly recognisable, though it has never, to my knowledge, looked quite so dramatic. Thanks also go to all those who provided such wonderful reviews of the first novel in this series. I hope you all enjoy this book as much as its predecessor.
For Christine, who shone a light through the darkest times.
‘Damn it.’
Jerry’s knife hit the floor with a thump. He reached for it, tempted to ignore the knock on his front door that had caused him to drop it. Who the hell was going to be calling at this time of the evening, anyway? He certainly wasn’t expecting anyone.
Probably