FaceOff by Dennis Lehane, James Rollins, Ian Rankin, Michael Connelly, R. L. Stine, Heather Graham, Jeffery Deaver, Peter James, Steve Martini, Douglas Preston, Lincoln Child, Joseph Finder, Lee Child, Raymond Khoury, Linwood Barclay, Steve Berry, John Sandford, M. J. Rose, Lisa Gardner, F. Paul Wilson, T. Jefferson Parker, John Lescroart, Linda Fairstein Read Free Book Online

together with direct brain tissue injury from fragments of skull displaced into the brain.
    Rib fractures causing flail chest, and laceration by broken ribs of the liver, spleen, and lungs.
    Extensive fractures of the maxilla and mandible with hemorrhage causing direct upper airway obstruction and fatal inhalation of blood, combined with stamping injury to the trachea causing cervical vertebral dislocation.
    Stamping injuries to the ribs, again lacerating the major thoracic and abdominal organs.
    Multiple defensive injury fractures to the small bones of the hands and wrist indicative of fetal position adopted by the victim. Traumatic testicular and scrotal rupture.
    Grace looked up at the detective sergeant with a frown. “There’s nothing here about any stab wounds. This James King, in Edinburgh, is certain he stabbed his victim?”
    “I spoke to John Rebus twenty minutes ago. No question, according to him, King stabbed him in the chest with the kitchen knife. Left it in the body when he fled the scene.”
    “A knife’s unlikely to have been overlooked, even back in the day,” Grace said wryly.
    “Agreed.”
    “Which would indicate Johnny Greene was not the victim, or am I missing something?”
    “No, guv.” Potting grinned and opened another folder. “I got this from the hospital. We’re lucky. One more year and the records would have been destroyed. Saturday, May nineteen, nineteen sixty-four, they treated a stab assault casualty. Sabatier bread knife still in his chest. Name of Ollie Starr. He was an art student and member of an Essex biker gang. The blade damaged his spinal cord and he was transferred to the Spinal Injuries Unit at Stoke Mandeville Hospital up in Bucks.”
    “Do the records say what happened to him?”
    “No, but I have the name of the officer who attended the scene and accompanied him to the county hospital. PC Jim Hopper.”
    Grace did some quick mental arithmetic. It was now 2013. Forty-nine years ago. Many police officers started in their teens. “This PC Hopper, he might still be around, Norman. He’d be in his sixties or perhaps seventies. If you contact Sandra Leader who runs the Retired Brighton and Hove Police Officers Association, or David Rowland, who runs the local branch of NARPO, they might know his whereabouts.” NARPO was the National Association of Retired Police Officers.
    “I already have. And, guv, I think you are going to be very interestedin this. PC Hopper retired as an inspector, but is still with us. What’s more, he’s kept in touch with Ollie Starr. The man lives right here in Brighton, apparently, and is mightily pissed off that his assailant has never been brought to justice.”
    “Did he give you an address?”
    “He’s getting it. He also invited us to a reunion.”
    Grace narrowed his eyes. “Reunion?”
    “The retired officers of Brighton and Hove. It’s this Saturday at the Sportsman Pub at Withdean Stadium.”
    “From what I’ve heard tell of Rebus, he wouldn’t say no to a drink.”
    Potting perked up. “Reckon DI Clarke might be tempted, too?”
    “She might.” Grace studied his calendar. It was Wednesday. The rest of his week, including the weekend, was clear. He’d promised to spend time with his beloved Cleo and their baby, Noah. If this could be cleared up on Saturday, he’d have all day Sunday. Then again, how would Rebus and Clarke feel about working a weekend? “Give me their number in Edinburgh,” he said.
    ·  ·  ·
    At ten thirty AM Saturday morning, after collecting John Rebus and Siobhan Clarke from an early Gatwick flight, Grace and Potting drove them into Brighton, with just the one detour so they could sightsee the beach and pavilion.
    “Been here before?” Potting asked Clarke, turning his head to study her more closely.
    “No,” she said, eyes on the scenery.
    “Gets busy on the weekend,” Grace explained. “Day-trippers from London.”
    “Just like nineteen sixty-four,” Rebus commented.
    “Just