Someone is playing a deadly game…
When a young woman goes missing from Jesus College, Oxford, DS Josie Masters is plunged into a world of panic as fear grips the city. Along with Thames Valley Police’s newest recruit, the handsome DS Pryce, Josie must act fast – and when two more students disappear from Oriel and Somerville colleges, she realises the killer is sending her a deadly message in a cruel game of cat and mouse. This time, the case is personal – but who is the perpetrator?
In a desperate race against the clock, Josie hunts for the kidnapper, and soon discovers he could be a lot closer to home than she’d ever thought…
Firstly a big thank you to Sabah for my copy to review and having me on the tour. I absolutly loved his debut last year so was very excited to read this.
He is a excellent storyteller and weaves suspense . It is a chilling dark and addictive read.
Makes you not want to trust anyone!
Compelling and twisty and i cant wait to read more .
Once i started i couldn’t put down ,needing to know the truth. Packed with action this is sure to be another hit.
Do read on for a extract and catch the other blogs taking part.
‘Morning, Andrea,’ said Jo.
‘Ma’am,’ said Williams. ‘Follow me.’
They proceeded under a sort of covered walkway (Williams had to stoop), into another quad surrounded by nineteenth-century terraces, then down a set of stairs into a more modern section of housing. Jo had somewhat lost her bearings – these colleges had been reconstructed so many times over the centu¬ries, to no obvious plan, that it was easy to get lost. A set of clipped heels fell into step beside them.
‘You’re the other detective?’ said a slightly cadaverous-looking fifty-something woman in a plaid suit, holding out a hand. Jo shook it as she slowed.
‘Jo Masters,’ she said.
‘Belinda Frampton-Keys. I’m the Vice Provost. I do hope you can get to the bottom of this. Malin is such a promising member of the MCR.’
‘The MCR?’
Frampton-Keys looked confused for a moment, as if the abbreviation should be in common currency. ‘Middle Common Room. It’s how we refer to postgraduate students.’
‘Was it you who reported the disappearance?’
‘That’s right. Malin’s fellow student, a girl called Anna Mull, was supposed to meet Malin this morning for a coffee. When she didn’t show up and didn’t answer calls, Anna went to her room. Curtains were still drawn, which wasn’t like Malin, so Anna came to find a member of staff. We knocked several times, then entered using our own key. When we saw what was inside, I called the police.’
Williams led her towards a door behind police tape. Stationed beside it was Oliver Pinker. Squat, ginger-haired and affable, he was often paired with Williams, though the sight of the two together was strangely disconcerting, like a double act about to break into some mysterious dramatic display. He handed her polythene booties and gloves, and she stepped under the tape into a sterile linoleum corridor with several dorm rooms and a fire door at the end. The Vice Provost attempted to follow, but Williams placed a hand on her arm. ‘Best if you stay off the crime scene, ma’am,’ she said.
