In the Cambridgeshire fens two corpses are found - both linking back to a terrifying event in 1966. More than a great story for journalist Philip Dryden, these murders may hold the key to a personal mystery. Who saved his life two years ago? And, more importantly, who left his wife to die? schovat popis
Philip Dryden Series
This series follows a determined newspaper reporter navigating the treacherous world of crime and intrigue in the English Fens. Each case plunges him deeper into dark secrets that threaten the seemingly tranquil facade of his community. Readers can expect compelling mysteries, a vividly realized setting, and a sharp exploration of human nature.
Recommended Reading Order
Summer, 1976. A plane crashes on a farm in the Cambridgeshire fens. Out of the flames walks young Maggie Beck, clutching a baby in her arms. Twenty-seven years later, investigative journalist Philip Dryden - visiting his wife, Laura, in hospital - is witness to Maggie's deathbed confession.
The Moon Tunnel
- 352 pages
- 13 hours of reading
When archaeologists unearth a body in the escape tunnel of an Ely POW camp, Philip Dryden's interest is peaked. Why was the man crawling into the camp, and not out.?
A man lies hidden in an abandoned boat. Stifling screams, he draws a knife across his arm, letting the blood flow free. Soon he'll be dead - and life can begin again. Three decades later Declan McIlroy, a 39-year-old loner, is found frozen to death in his flat as Arctic temperatures grip the cathedral city of Ely. His is not the only cold death that winter, but nevertheless reporter Philip Dryden has worrying doubts - for it seems Declan may not have been alone as he slowly froze to death . . . Dryden's suspicions harden when days later he finds the body of Declan's best friend Joe - frozen within a shell of ice on the doorstep of his secluded Fenland farmhouse. Soon Dryden is picking his way along a disturbing trail of cruelty and betrayal to a brilliantly executed crime. And to a chilling, half-remembered mystery from his own childhood . . .