I am very happy to be sharing an extract with you today on the Blog Tour for Will To Live by Rachel Amphlett. First of all though let's take a look at the book and don't forget to enter the giveaway to win one of two ebooks.
Book: Will to Live
Author:
Rachel Amphlett
Release
Date:
4th
April 2017
Blog
Tour:
27th
March to 11th
April
Reputation is everything
When
a packed commuter train runs over a body on a stretch of track known
to locals as ‘Suicide Mile’, it soon transpires that the man was
a victim of a calculated murder.
As
the investigation evolves and a pattern of murders is uncovered,
Detective Sergeant Kay Hunter realises the railway’s recent
reputation may be the work of a brutal serial killer.
With
a backlog of cold cases to investigate and attempting to uncover who
is behind a professional vendetta against her, Kay must keep one step
ahead of both the killer and her own adversaries.
When
a second murder takes place within a week of the first, she realises
the killer’s timetable has changed, and she’s running out of time
to stop him…
Will
to Live
is the second book in a new crime thriller series featuring Kay
Hunter – a detective with a hidden past and an uncertain future…
If
you like Angela Marsons, Peter James and Robert Bryndza, discover the
latest addition to Rachel Amphlett’s new series today.
Buy Links
===================
Extract
CHAPTER
ONE
Elsa
Flanagan cursed under her breath and slapped the side of the torch
against the palm of her hand.
The
beam wavered before it flickered back to life and she exhaled,
releasing some of the tension from her shoulders.
She’d
told Dennis to change the batteries the previous evening when he’d
returned from the pub, the dog carrying a faint scent of cigarette
smoke from where his owner had passed the time with his friends in
the small undercover shelter to the side of the fourteenth-century
tavern.
He’d
obviously forgotten all about the batteries after several pints of
real ale, and now she was traipsing across the pitch-black field with
Smokey, praying the beam held out long enough for her to let the dog
have a quick trot around before she headed home for the evening.
Early
spring, and the air was laden with a freshness, the countryside
beginning to waken from its winter slumber.
She’d
spent the afternoon in the garden, pulling out all the old and rotten
vegetation, the roses receiving a vicious pruning, and the flowerbeds
prepped and ready for the first burst of daffodils.
Dennis
had phoned half an hour ago and said he’d be late home from the
golf course. There had been a crash on the M20 where the new merging
lanes, implemented the previous year, still caused grief for
unsuspecting drivers.
Elsa
had huffed, but knew it wasn’t his fault. They enjoyed their
evening walks with the dog together, but he’d urged her to go on
without him this time.
‘Goodness
knows how long I’ll be,’ he’d said.
Reluctantly,
she’d agreed with him, as Smokey was already pacing the hallway in
anticipation.
‘Come
on, then,’ she’d said, grabbing his lead from its position on the
newel post, and headed out, locking the front door behind her.
There
was a time when she’d have simply let the dog wait until the
morning for a long walk and let him out into the garden instead, but
with his advancing years she knew if she didn’t take him now he’d
be unsettled all night, and she wouldn’t get any sleep.
Dennis
would be too busy snoring to notice.
She’d
smiled and waved at a neighbour returning from walking her Yorkshire
Terrier, and then turned and followed an overgrown footpath that led
to a small field.
As
far as she was aware, only the neighbour used the route regularly.
She and Dennis normally walked along a different path that took them
past the village pub. Their suburb was far enough out of the main
town to be uncrowded, and for the most part was populated by people
who were retired, or whose children had left the nest long ago. She’d
let the dog off his lead the moment she reached the barren field,
safe in the knowledge the area was well-fenced. She trusted him to
come back when called, but it was reassuring to know he couldn’t
stray onto the railway line that cut through the end of the field
while he was chasing rabbits.
Conscious
of the darkening sky, she’d rummaged in her pocket and pulled out
the small torch, and it was then she realised Dennis had forgotten to
change the batteries.
Now,
she wished she had taken the time to check before leaving the house.
An
excited bark from Smokey jerked her back to the present. His
silhouette bounded across the field beyond where she stood with the
lead in her hand, a flash of white near the hedgerow beyond
reflecting off the torch’s beam as a rabbit made a lucky escape.
In
the distance, and still several miles away, the sound of the horn of
the 5.55 from London Victoria carried on the wind. There was a time,
not so long ago, when the sound acted as an alarm clock for her, a
signal to switch on the oven and start preparing dinner ready for
when Dennis walked through the front door, having driven from the
railway station.
Now,
she emitted a two-note whistle to the dog and jangled the metal clasp
of his lead.
The
rabbit out of reach, the dog scampered back towards her.
Tutting
under her breath at the sight of his mud-covered paws, she clipped
the lead to his collar and ruffled the fur between his ears.
‘Good
boy.’
He
strained at the lead as she straightened, his head swivelling towards
the railway line, and pricked his ears.
A
breeze tugged at her hair, and she frowned.
‘Come
on, all the rabbits are gone.’
She
turned to go but the lead grew taut.
Glancing
down, she saw the Border Collie staring at the tracks, his body
rigid. His ears twitched, and he lifted his nose into the air before
he whined and strained at the lead once more.
‘What
is it?’
She
felt a pang of fear. Dennis was always telling her not to walk the
dog over the field by herself. “You’re too trusting”, he said.
“It’s not like the old days”, he said. “Take him around the
block instead”.
She
waved the torch in a wide circle, the faint beam falling on a pair of
rabbits that turned and fled as the light fell upon them.
‘It’s
only rabbits, Smokey,’ she scolded, while trying to ignore the
tremor in her voice. ‘Come—’
The
wind brushed her cheek, and she heard it then.
A
faint voice, male.
Smokey
whined again before he growled, a rumble that started in his throat
and ended in a low bark.
‘Who’s
there?’
She
heard the tremble in her voice, and patted the pockets of her jacket,
her heart racing.
Dammit.
She’d
left her mobile phone on the kitchen counter in her haste to walk the
dog before it grew too dark to navigate the field.
She
took a step back and tugged on the lead.
‘Smokey.
Come on.’
He
whined again, and instead of following her, pulled forward.
She
stumbled, managed to regain her balance at the last moment, and
inhaled sharply.
‘Help
me.’
Elsa
craned her neck, trying to see beyond the farthest reaches of the
torch beam.
The
voice appeared to be coming from the direction of the railway line.
She
took a few steps forward and, emboldened, the dog took up the slack
and pulled once more.
‘Hello?’
A
moment’s pause, then—
‘Help!
Please – somebody help me!’
Her
heart hammering, Elsa began to hurry across the uneven ground, and
cried out as her ankle turned. She kept her balance, ignored the
painful twinge from her arthritic hip, and made her way down the
gentle slope towards the tracks.
A
tangle of vines covered a wire mesh fence that had been erected
between the field and the railway, and she paced beside it until she
found an area that was less densely covered in vegetation.
She
couldn’t climb the fence, not with her hip, and with her short
stature, the top of it reached a half head above her.
‘Please,
help me – I can’t move!’
She
waved her torch in the direction of the voice, her breath escaping
her lips in short bursts, until the beam fell upon a length of
material that lay across the tracks.
She
blinked, and then the material moved.
‘The
train’s coming! Help me!’
Elsa
cried out, and covered her mouth with her hand, before dropping the
torch. Close up, she could still make out the wriggling form.
A
rumble in the ground sent a small shockwave up her legs, and her head
jerked to the right.
Smokey
began to bark, excited by the roar of the approaching train, and the
man’s terrified screams.
‘Oh
God, oh God.’
Elsa
wrapped her fingers around the mesh of the metal fencing and tried to
prise it from the post, but it wouldn’t yield. Her breath escaped
in short, panicked gasps as she rattled the wire mesh in an attempt
to find a weak point, a way through.
The
man continued to squirm, his body against the nearest rail, and his
head furthest away from her.
‘Get
up, get up!’ she urged. ‘The train’s coming!’
Why
isn’t he moving?
Only
metres away from where she stood, the rails began their familiar song
as the weight of the train’s wheels bore down, coming closer.
The
horn sounded once more.
The
man began to scream, begging her to hurry, to stop the train, to help
him, but the wire refused to yield under her touch.
The
train rounded the corner, its light bearing down on her, and she
lifted her gaze to the rails.
The
man had managed to raise his head, and was staring at her, terrified.
The
train’s brakes squealed as the headlights picked out the form in
its path, but it wasn’t going to stop in time. It was simply too
heavy and going too fast.
Elsa
screwed up her eyes in a vain attempt to shut out the vision before
her, a moment too late.
The
man’s screams were drowned out by a sickening crunch, blood
exploding across the front of the locomotive.
The
wheels screeched against the rails as the train shuddered to a halt,
the ensuing silence only broken by the hiss of air brakes.
The
dog whined once before pushing its trembling body against her legs,
and then Elsa turned and vomited into the undergrowth.
===================
Author bio:
Rachel Amphlett is the bestselling author of the Dan Taylor espionage novels and the new Detective Kay Hunter crime thriller series, as well as a number of standalone crime thrillers.
Originally from the UK and currently based in Brisbane, Australia, Rachel’s novels appeal to a worldwide audience, and have been compared to Robert Ludlum, Lee Child and Michael Crichton.
She is a member of International Thriller Writers and the Crime Writers Association, with the Italian foreign rights for her debut novel, White Gold, being sold to Fanucci Editore's TIMECrime imprint in 2014.
An advocate for knowledge within the publishing industry, Rachel is always happy to share her experiences to a wider audience through her blogging and speaking engagements.
You can keep in touch with Rachel by signing up to her mailing list via her Website, or via Facebook and Twitter: @RachelAmphlett
Why not check out the Facebook launch party:
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