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      DYING LIGHT

      Stuart MacBride

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       Copyright

      Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

      1 London Bridge Street

      London SE1 9GF

       www.harpercollins.co.uk

      First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2006

      Copyright © Stuart MacBride 2006

      Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

      Type style © Blacksheep-uk.com

      Cover photograph © Huw Williams/Alamy Stock Photo, Tim Robinson/Trevillion Images (figure)

      Stuart MacBride 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 is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, living or dead, real events, businesses, organizations and localities are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. All names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts 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, down-loaded, 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-books.

      Source ISBN: 9780007419456

      Ebook Edition © SEPTEMBER 2008 ISBN: 9780007279456

       Version: 2020-09-24

       Dedication

       For Fiona

      (again)

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Copyright

      Dedication

      Without Whom …

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Chapter 19

       Chapter 20

       Chapter 21

       Chapter 22

       Chapter 23

       Chapter 24

       Chapter 25

       Chapter 26

       Chapter 27

       Chapter 28

       Chapter 29

       Chapter 30

       Chapter 31

       Chapter 32

       Chapter 33

       Chapter 34

       Chapter 35

       Chapter 36

       Chapter 37

       Chapter 38

       Chapter 39

       Chapter 40

       Chapter 41

       Chapter 42

       Chapter 43

       Chapter 44

       Chapter 45

       Keep Reading …

       About the Author

       By Stuart MacBride

       About the Publisher

       Without Whom …

      The truth is a malleable thing, especially when I get my hands on it. So I have to thank the following lovely people for letting me bend their truths, sometimes beyond all recognition: The Procurator Fiscal’s Office in Aberdeen for letting me in on how the Scottish Justice System actually works; George Sangster of Grampian Police for an invaluable heap of police procedure and info; and my ‘first lady of the morgue’ – Ishbel Hunter the Senior APT at Aberdeen Royal Infirmary who is, as always, a star.

      I also owe a debt of thanks to Philip Patterson – who isn’t just a bloody good agent, but a good friend too – and all at Marjacq Scripts; my wunderkind editorial gurus Jane and Sarah; the brilliant cast and crew at HarperCollins, particularly Amanda, Fiona, Kelly, Joy, Damon, Lucy, Andrea, and everyone else who has done such an excellent job in getting this thing out there; Kelley at St Martin’s Press and Ingeborg at Tiden, for their valuable input into this book; and James Oswald for his suggestions and photos of cheese.

      I should probably thank the Aberdeen Tourist Board as well, for not having me lynched when the last book came out. If it’s any consolation: at least this one’s set in summer.

      But mostly I have to thank my naughty wife Fiona (or she’ll thump me).

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      The street was dark as they entered the boarded-up building: scruffy wee shites in their tatty jeans and hooded tops. Three men and two women, nearly identical

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