Thank you for stopping by, I have a great extract to share with you today as part of the blog tour for Liar Liar by Sarah Flint.
First of all though let's take a look at the description for the book...
From the bestselling author of Mummy’s Favourite and The Trophy Taker.
DC 'Charlie' Stafford returns with a superb new, brutally gripping serial killer thriller, where the hunter becomes the hunted. Perfect for the fans of Angela Marsons.
A faithful dog lies wounded beside the mutilated body of its owner.
A woman is discovered bound and gagged, dead in her own bed.
Both are police officers.
Both have a red rose at their side... worryingly more will follow...
Lies and accusations abound but who is behind the murders and why are the victims being targeted?
Charlie, Hunter and the team must find the killer targeting their own before another body is found.
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2lBuZFM
He saw the suitcases stacked neatly in the hallway as he made his way towards her. A rucksack sat on the floor, a passport and documents spread out across the table by the door, a set of keys lying to the side. Everything was ready for a vacation in the sun, but today she would be going nowhere. The taxi would turn up and leave without its fare, the phone would ring but would remain unanswered and the front door would stay shut. Sleeping Beauty would lie ready to be awakened, but this time there would be no handsome prince. He loved the plan.
He pulled a scarf from his bag and tiptoed across the hallway to her bedroom. Her door was open. He could see her shape under the sheet, curled into a crescent, her back towards him, an arm hanging lazily above her head, her hair cascading in ringlets around her shoulders. A thin raft of light from the moon filtered in through a gap in the curtains, directly against the pillow on which her head was resting. Its beam lit up her face; her button nose casting a shadow across her cheek and the upper edges of her mouth. Her lips were thin, parted slightly in sleep, her breath louder, more constant now as he approached. Her eyes remained tightly shut, twitching slightly as she dreamed, unaware of his presence.
A few more steps and he was on top of her, his gloved hand across her mouth to stifle any scream. He rolled her on to her back, his weight pushing her further into the mattress. She couldn’t move. Only her eyes darted around now, wild and wide, trying to make sense of what was happening. Roughly he tied the scarf around her mouth and pulled her flailing arms up in front of her, securing her wrists in metal restraints. Her hands balled into fists, but they were impotent within the handcuffs. Her voice came out in staccato gasps, any words muffled within the material of the scarf. She tried to buck, but he was too heavy for her. He pulled the sheet off her, strapping her legs tightly to each other before binding her whole body to the bed, each limb held in place by electrical cable.
She lay trussed and immobile, her thin cotton pyjamas tight against the curves of her body, the scarf exchanged for paper wadding, held in place by duct tape wound round and round her head. The job was nearly done. He bent down over her, his face close, squinting through the eyeholes of the balaclava that he wore, his eyes exploring her body. Her physique was good for her age; she had obviously spent time working out in the gym, but she held no sexual attraction to him. She was staring directly at his face, trying, no doubt, to focus on his features. His mouth curled into a sneer. It wasn’t in his instructions, but it would be an amusing addition. He lifted the balaclava up and grinned down at her desperate attempts at concentration, before pulling it back into position. She would not live to give a description, but he liked to think she’d try.
What he did, needed to be done. He felt no guilt. He hated her and her kind. How he wished he could kill her now, to revel in how she dealt with the sort of intimidation, humiliation and agony that he himself had suffered.
But he had his orders.
And, before the clock in the lounge clicked on to 03.59 he’d slipped silently out of the front door, having followed every single one of them.
With a Metropolitan Police career spanning 35 years Sarah has spent her adulthood surrounded by victims, criminals and police officers. She continues to work and lives in London with her partner and has three older daughters.
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