Publisher: Taylor Street Books
Number of pages: 292
Word Count: 81.000
A Child to save.
A Killer to catch.
Tommy Connell’s playing with the bad guys again, but this time the rules have changed…and he still hasn’t learned to play nice!
Connell’s keeping the wolf from the door, rooting out bad cops for his buddy Gerry Gesting. He’s handed in his badge, turned his back on all that, but…
When a weird little kid disappears into the night and no one gives a damn including the cops, he reckons that maybe someone should take another look.
The good cops are busy hunting down a serial killer…good.
The bad cops are busy hunting down Connell…not so good.
The serial killer, well he’s looking for victim number twelve, which is… definitely not good.
And little Molly Brown is about to throw an almighty spanner in the works.
Connell’s dabbling in things that he shouldn’t and it’s not the first time…
Connell finally realizes that he’s dropped the ball and only he can pick it back up:
The banging on the door woke him. Dragged him kicking and screaming from a nightmare where fear was all he could recall. He kicked at tangled sheets, wiped perspiration from his brow and struggled to his feet. It was still dark out, that murky time just before dawn.
The noise was relentless. He’d dropped the latch the night before, done up all the locks and chains just like he’d promised Lizzie. Now, he couldn’t co-ordinate. His senses confused, the noise, the back taste of fear and broken sleep, all interfering in an essentially straightforward task. He slammed a hand at the door in an effort to shut out the din, so he could think. Four bolts, two locks- where was the damn key?
“Okay, Jeez, I’m coming,” he cursed. “Give me a goddamn minute!”
The banging stopped as suddenly as it had begun and in the subsequent eerie silence Connell became aware of a different sound. A muted sob- the whispered wail of someone so desperate, so alone, that he felt his own throat constrict. His nightmare paled as his fear grew exponentially.
“No – Lizzie! I’m coming. I’m here, babe, hang on.”
When he finally wrenched the door open, she was crouched on the floor. Hugging her knees; rocking on the balls of her feet. She looked up through a curtain of wet curls, her cheeks streaked with tears, her eyes rubbed red. He pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms tight around her slender frame. She trembled beneath his hands.
“What’s happened? It’s the middle of the goddamn night. Where’s Joe?” He leaned away from her, caught her face gently between his hands. “Lizzie, honey, you’re scaring me. You’ve got to tell me what’s wrong?”
She looked at him and he was stung by the accusation in her eyes.
“You promised me, we were safe.”
He felt it then, a churning deep in his stomach. He dropped his hands, felt the room sway and steadied himself against what he knew was to come.
“What’s happened, Lizzie? Just tell me, honey.”
“They came, after you called…,” she sobbed. The words fractured, forced between desperate gasps for air and normality. “They took Joe and Molly…I tried to stop them. I pleaded with them.” She took a breath, seemed to draw strength from somewhere deep inside. “They said you’d gone too far and now it was time to pay.”
He stared at her, looked through her, past her, and the moment hung. The gulf between them widening in front of his eyes, as if he stood at the edge of a precipice of his own making and the only way forward was down. He re-focused and saw that her face was bruised, her lip swollen. When she raised her hand to shield the bruises from him he saw angry finger marks on her pale wrist. She had fought to protect his son and a child she barely knew and despite her efforts she had failed. His nightmare returned with sudden clarity, the fear, the uncontrollable anger and despair. He could not lose any of them, this couldn’t be the end.
Born in the North East of England, B.A.Morton writes crime fiction and historical fantasy all with a smidgeon of romance thrown in. After a twenty year civil service career, she and her family escaped the rat race and relocated to the remote beauty of the Northumberland National Park. She now works part time in the village GP surgery and lives in a cottage built on the remains of a medieval crypt – the inspiration for the medieval fantasy trilogy, “The Wildewood Chronicles”. She keeps chickens and dogs, enjoys country life and can be bribed with chocolate! Her debut novel “Mrs Jones” a fast paced, romantic, crime thriller set in New York, was runner up in the Yeovil Literary Prize 2011 and subsequently published by Taylor Street Publishing. The sequel, “Molly Brown” was released in December 2012.