CHAPTER FIVE
Sadie could hear nothing but the howling of the wind and O’Hara’s boots on the gravel behind her as they made their way slowly along the wharf, eyes peeled for any sign of a man who could be Scrapper.
This end of the wharf was desolate, with nothing but a row of shuttered buildings, many with windows that had been boarded and reboarded, no doubt in an attempt to keep the homeless from seeking shelter, a few with doors hanging off, allowing access to the interior. Like the warehouse where the as yet unnamed victim had been found, covered in plastic and her own blood.
Sadie shuddered and felt the wind blow through her, chilling her very bones.
As they walked past a smaller building with its door replaced by a piece of easily moved corrugated iron, O’Hara paused.
“I can hear
