I’ve worked murders for fifteen years, and some of the places you end up… I don’t know, you’re standing over bodies in these holes, and you can just feel a place is bad.
Tim WeaverDerryn took me to a plot she’d chosen for herself in a cemetery in north London. She looked at her grave, up at me, and then smiled. I remember that clearly. A smile shot through with so much pain and fear I wanted to break something. I wanted to hit out until all I felt was numb.
Tim WeaverIf she was lying to me, the lie would surface eventually. They always did. Usually families lied out of some misguided belief that it might affect how I did my job; as if my performance was based on how picture-perfect their life was. But the truth was, no life was perfect. Everyone had secrets.
It’s just some were buried deeper than others.
In her weakest moments she probably saw her sister’s family dead in a ditch somewhere, inside a car that had never been found. Victims of an accident. Victims of fate, destiny, or whatever she believed in. But I didn’t see any of that. I saw devils and executioners, men who felt nothing for the people they took, and even less for the families left behind. And the thing that frightened me the most was that I didn’t even have to try hard to remember them. I just had to close my eyes.
Tim WeaverPage 1 de 1.
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.