By Deborah Crombie
In the culture of Elizabeth George, Louise Penny, and P. D. James, New York Times bestselling writer Deborah Crombie gives you a strong story of intrigue, betrayal, and lies that would plunge married London detectives Duncan Kincaid and Gemma James into the unspeakable darkness that lies on the middle of murder.
Recently transferred to the London borough of Camden from Scotland backyard headquarters, Superintendent Duncan Kincaid and his new homicide research group are referred to as to a perilous bombing at old St. Pancras Station. via lucky accident, Melody Talbot, Gemma's depended on colleague, witnesses the explosion. The sufferer was once playing an prepared protest, but the opposite team individuals swear the younger guy simply intended to trigger a smoke bomb. As Kincaid starts to collect the evidence, he reveals every bit of the puzzle yields an unforeseen trend, together with the disappearance of a mysterious bystander.
The bombing is not the in simple terms secret troubling Kincaid. he is nonetheless wondering the explanations at the back of his move, and while his former boss—who's been warding off him—is attacked, these suspicions deepen. With the aid of his former sergeant, Doug Cullen, Melody Talbot, and Gemma, Kincaid starts to untangle the reality. yet what he discovers will go away him wondering his trust within the task that has formed his existence and his values—and remind him simply how susceptible his important relations is.
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Additional resources for To Dwell in Darkness: A Novel (Duncan Kincaid/Gemma James Novels)
Rather than replying to Sidana, Kincaid regarded up at Doug and Melody. “We’ve acquired a likely affirmation on Paul Cole. until DNA ideas him out. we now have to choose what to do approximately Ryan Marsh. ” He scrolled again via Melody’s protest photographs, pondering furiously. “Why does Ryan Marlowe disappear from view? ” he requested. “If he went undercover as Ryan Marsh, was once it with Thames Valley? Or with the Met? Is he nonetheless undercover, or did he cross local? ” Kincaid drummed his arms at the café tabletop. “He used to be too cautious. He left not anything at the back of with the gang, ever. Who—or what—was he fearful of? ” “If he was once nonetheless undercover,” installed Doug, “who was once operating him? And why? I don’t think the govt. any further sees homegrown protest teams as a significant terrorist chance. ” Kincaid felt an itch among his shoulder blades. He seemed around, without warning aware of their visibility in the course of the café’s glass home windows. with the exception of them, the entire café’s customized have been takeaway, and nobody had lingered after deciding on up their espresso or breakfast rolls. “I don’t like this,” he acknowledged quietly. “We don’t be aware of adequate. For now, i feel this remains among the 3 people, and Gemma. Doug, commence with Ryan Marlowe. delivery, institution files, marriage, something you could dig up. Ryan Marsh can’t have easily vanished, and his earlier can provide us a clue as to the place he's. and that i are looking to locate him earlier than an individual else does. ” bankruptcy FIFTEEN In 1857 Barlow . . . was once retained by means of the Midland Railway as its new consulting engineer after the retirement of George Stephenson. His significant fee from the Midland got here with the company’s extension from Bedford into London. beginning in 1862, the extension gave them autonomous entry to London for the 1st time. Barlow was once liable for the association of St Pancras station, the company’s personal terminus on Euston highway. This incorporated the station’s wonderful teach shed roof; at 240ft, it was once on the time of development the biggest on this planet. —networkrail. co. united kingdom /VirtualArchive/WH-Barlow With the really appropriate use of some capsules of his stash of over the counter codeine and ibuprofen—he’d by no means hyperlink himself to a prescription—he’d controlled to get relocating, building up the hearth, and make himself a scorching meal and a sizzling drink. whilst he’d wiped clean his cooking apparatus, he prepared his campsite a piece higher, constructing one other windbreak. Thank God the rain had stopped for the instant. within the morning, he may commence filtering water from the river, and if he used to be fortunate, possibly capture a few fish for breakfast. One activity at a time. He couldn’t imagine prior that. now not but. while he’d comprehensive chores and banked the fireplace, he’d settled himself on his camp stool and dug one other treasure from one of many cache tubes—a glass-lined flask jam-packed with excellent whisky. It was once the final of a bottle of Balvenie, his favourite hand made, single-barrel Speyside Scotch. Wren had given it to him as a shock, obtained with funds she’d stored up from doing ordinary jobs. He’d protested—she by no means received whatever for herself, donning the opposite ladies’ castoffs, yet she’d appeared so overwhelmed that he’d relented, yet purely at the situation that she proportion it.