Название | Dead And Buried |
---|---|
Автор произведения | John Brennan |
Жанр | Приключения: прочее |
Серия | |
Издательство | Приключения: прочее |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9781474030762 |
You can bury a body, but you can’t bury the past.
Sometimes, doing the right thing can change your life forever. When vet Conor Maguire agreed to dispose of a corpse for his wife’s desperate brother, Patrick, he prayed that would be the end of the matter. He couldn’t have been more wrong.
Now Conor is returning to Belfast after five years self-imposed exile. He wants to rebuild his shattered life with the family he left behind, but the past won’t leave him alone. Patrick has risen through the ranks of gangland criminality, and wants Conor’s help once more. This time he isn’t asking nicely.
Dead and Buried
John Brennan
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2015
Copyright © John Brennan 2015
John Brennan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © June 2015 ISBN: 9781474030762
Version date: 2018-09-20
JOHN BRENNAN
was born in Edinburgh in 1974, and relocated to London to work in advertising in 2001. He is married with three children.
Contents
WHAT had woken him? A voice?
No – there was no voice – only the strident double-tone of the phone, and then, from under the covers, Christine sleepily asking, ‘What time is it?’
The bedside clock told 3.12.
As Conor reached for the receiver, the cold air of the bedroom raised goose flesh on his arms and chest.
A thoroughbred with a torsioned colon up at the McGill stables. A sheep hit by a lorry out on one of the high roads. A cow that can’t calve in some godforsaken byre down Ballycullen way. That’d be it. Conor turned over the possibilities in his head: breech birth, prolapsed uterus, dead calf…
‘Conor – fucking hell.’
This wasn’t any Ballycullen farmer. He half-recognised the voice through the layers of panic. ‘Patrick?’
‘Fuckin’ hell, Conor, man – you have to help me.’
Patrick Cameron – Christine’s little brother. Conor swallowed; kept his voice level.
‘What’s up?’
‘I’ve done something…something stupid.’ On ‘stupid’ Patrick’s voice broke into a strangled sob. Pissed again, Conor supposed. Patrick liked a drink, no question. Hadn’t he done for the