Lorne Simpkins is after a Serial Killer who is determined to make things personal.
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Mel Comley Author Site
A serial killer taunts the police...And he has his sights on DI
The headless body of a wealthy widow is discovered decomposing in
Detective Inspector Lorne Simpkins and her partner, DS Pete Childs
are assigned to the case.
A few days later another victim, this time a young girl, is
discovered. Who could the killer be and what's the connection
between the two victims?
Then after a third murder, the killer contacts Lorne with a grisly
surprise. It looks like Lorne has a serial killer on her hands - and
one that has become fixated on her.
As she tries to solve the crimes, Lorne is also coping with a
failing marriage and a new, unsympathetic boss with whom she has a
secret past. Then, as she begins to despair at the lack of clues,
help arrives from an unlikely source.
Approx 88,000 words
Available in paperback and ebook
The first chapter can be seen on my blog.
Here's a small excerpt.
Friday August 30th, 2007
The pain from the welts on the woman’s naked back intensified. She had no concept of time, no idea how long she’d been tied up. Her hands had lost all feeling from being tightly bound to an old wooden chair.
Is this how her life would end?
It had taken a while, but her nostrils had finally grown used to the vile stench permeating her temporary cell.
Time, all she had was time. Time to think, time to ask the same question over and over. Who was he? And why was he holding her captive? What unspeakable thing had she done in her life to make a complete stranger treat her this way? I’m a kind and caring person, aren’t I?
What type of person kept a woman locked up in a hellhole like this?
He tortured her with silence when he brought her food, if you can call week-old bread food. She had tried different ways to get a reaction out of him, shouting, reasoning, even her pitiful attempt at begging had fallen on deaf ears. His sneer, and the way his dark eyes roamed her naked body in response, made her skin crawl.
Now her own thoughts had started torturing her. Her aching limbs cried out for warm lavender-oil filled baths, if only to wash away the urine stinging her legs and the faeces clinging to her behind. She felt utterly degraded. It was a far cry from her usual opulent lifestyle.
Every waking minute dragged into agonisingly long hours. Please, when will this nightmare end? How will this nightmare end? She asked her maker, repeatedly.
Water dripped constantly in the corner adding to her torment. She blocked the noise out by reminiscing happier moments, hoping it would help prevent the craziness threatening to seep into her mind. Fearing her life would soon come to an end, she prayed endlessly that her dead husband would be there to greet her when she finally passed over. How wonderful it would be to feel his comforting arms around me now.
Her heart leapt into her throat when the hatch door swung open. The sudden rush of daylight hurt her eyes, causing them to water. She winced and was swiftly reminded that her right eye was swollen from the beating she had received a few days earlier.
The man gingerly made his way down the precarious ladder, followed by another person.
The imprisoned woman’s pulse accelerated, furiously gathering momentum. He crossed the stone floor and stopped in front of her.
“Please … please let me go,” she pleaded, in a childlike voice.
The man stared at her for a moment before the vilest of laughs escaped his lips. “Why? Tell me why I should let you go?”
“I beg of you, please, tell me what I have done?”
He smirked, and circled her chair in a menacing manner. “Ah, ignorance is a blissful thing.”