I am really chuffed to be part of the #PerfectDeath blog tour. This is such a top crime series, that I have completely fallen in love with. This is seriously dark, gorgeously addictive crime. I am lucky to have a fabulous exclusive extract from Perfect Death, which will have you hitting the buy button on Amazon.
Check out my recent glowing review of Perfect Death >>> Perfect Death – Helen Fields (@Helen_Fields @AvonBooksUK)
What’s Perfect Death all about?
There’s no easy way to die…
Unknown to DI Luc Callanach and the newly promoted DCI Ava Turner, a serial killer has Edinburgh firmly in his grip. The killer is taking his victims in the coldest, most calculating way possible – engineering slow and painful deaths by poison, with his victims entirely unaware of the drugs flooding their bloodstream until it’s too late.
But how do you catch a killer who hides in the shadows? A killer whose pleasure comes from watching pain from afar? Faced with their most difficult case yet, Callanach and Turner soon realise they face a seemingly impossible task…
**** Exclusive Extract****
Extract Fifteen: Chapter 17, pp.118-119
With the fire between them, he’d played at arranging a circle of rocks to keep the flames within, watching Lily do as he’d instructed. Her fingers had grown clumsy by then, he remembered, her actions slowing with each passing minute, but she had been admirably unafraid. Lily had become a woman in that moment. It would have been an exquisite maturation had she not faltered at the last. Her lingerie – white with cornflowers scattered decoratively about – remained on.
‘Those too,’ he’d said.
‘I thought you’d do that,’ she’d replied, a shiver claiming her as she spoke. He’d moved around the fire, taking a knee at her side and pulling at her knickers with his still-gloved hands, knowing he couldn’t afford to transfer treacherous DNA to her skin.
‘Won’t you take your gloves off?’ she’d asked. That was the first moment he recalled feeling frustrated with her. He wasn’t proud of it, but he’d imagined it all happening a certain way, the atmosphere charged with nothing but the mournful onset of grief. It was supposed to have been beautiful.
He’d instructed her, firmly, making clear that the time for idle flirtation was over, to take off her underwear and stay where she was.
‘This isn’t how I’d imagined it,’ she’d said. ‘I feel strange. Something’s not right. I need to go . . . dizzy, not good.’
To his amazement, Lily had stood up. He’d thought her wellbeyond the point where she would be able to stand unaided but that was the Lily he’d spent months coming to respect. She’d wavered left, then right, hands out like a blindfolded child playing a party game, seeking an object to hold for balance. Guiding her back towards the sleeping bag in spite of her increasingly loud and annoying protests, he had briskly removed her underwear before lowering her to the floor. Her hands had fluttered uselessly, swatting him with feeble resignation as he held her down on the ground. The cold had been seeping into her by then, but still he’d needed to hold her until she could no longer fight the urge to drowse. Wrapping the sleeping bag around her body, arms and all, he’d held her still with his weight as she’d tried – and failed – to escape. It had been like wrestling a feather. When at last the cannabis oil did its job, Lily had moaned a little as she fell asleep, tears rolling golden reflections of firelight down her cheeks. He hadn’t touched them. They were too beautiful to destroy.