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Authors: Zoe Sharp

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And all the time he was searching for another sign of Kelly. But she didn’t present herself to him or his in-laws and when the church had emptied out he could not see her hiding in the shadows.

 

He thanked the vicar and handed over the promised donation cheque for a job well done. Outside on the bowed stone steps he shook his father-in-law’s reluctantly offered hand and air-kissed his mother-in-law’s powdered cheek. He was amazed the caked layer of makeup hadn’t cracked from the sheer effort of holding her disdain in check.

“You’ll ride with us back to the house?” his father-in-law suggested stiffly when they reached the lane where people were climbing into their cars. Lytton had approved the hire of the Bentley they’d wanted, even though the distance from house to church barely allowed it to warm up.

 

“I have my car here,” Lytton said, gesturing to the Aston Martin.

They sniffed at that, said they’d see him at the catered lunch in half an hour, and left.

 

Lytton headed off into the surrounding graveyard, pulling his wool overcoat a little tighter around him to ward off the sharp and sneaky wind. He found her by the wall right in the far corner, still with the ridiculous topcoat wrapped around her and a small rucksack tucked at her feet.

“Kelly!” He hurried the last few strides finding he was suddenly breathless. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” she said. “I asked at the house and the caterers assumed I was a late guest of some sort. They gave me directions.” She fingered the lapel of the coat. Beneath it he could see a bright shirt and khaki cargo pants. “I didn’t know, until I got here . . . I borrowed this from one of the chauffeurs so I wouldn’t look so obviously out of place inside. I didn’t realise . . . I’m sorry.”

“I’m not—sorry you’re here, that is,” he said, feeling a genuine smile start to form. “But what I actually meant was . . . The last I heard you were in Holloway. How did you . . .?” He groaned. “Oh please, tell me you didn’t scale the bloody walls?”

She laughed and he realised he’d never heard her laugh and he liked the sound of it, husky with just an edge of badness to it.

“What, you think at this very moment some deputy US Marshal is organising a hard-target search of every henhouse, outhouse and doghouse between here and Islington?”

He knew she was trying to make light of it by paraphrasing
The Fugitive
but somehow that only made the situation seem more desperate.

Heedless of what happened the last time he grabbed her, Lytton closed in and gripped her upper arms, forced her to focus on his face.

“Kelly, please, this is serious. If you’re on the run I can help. I know a guy with a fast cruiser moored at Lymington. We can have you out of the country by tonight.”

She went very still. “You’d do that?” she said. “For me?”

“I won’t see you go back to prison for something you didn’t damn well do.”

She stepped in, looked up into his eyes. “They didn’t let me go, Matthew,” she said with gentle deliberation, “because they didn’t need to. I was never really on remand. Not this time.”

He tried for incisive. Instead all he managed was a stuttered, “W–what?”

“O’Neill asked for my help to catch the guys who set me up—just sit tight in solitary for a few weeks and let him get on with it,” she said. “Allardice did the dirty work, but it was Chief Superintendent Quinlan who Callum Perry was trying to blackmail. He was the one who decided to get rid of Perry and use me to take the blame.”

“And O’Neill can prove all this?” Lytton demanded.

“That’s what he’s been doing,” she said. “They’ve had forensic accountants tracing the money, including the funds Allardice transferred out to Spain to start his bar. O’Neill had to play along and wait until Quinlan took his retirement package and went out with a new payoff before he could arrange to have the pair of them grabbed.”

“Which he’s now done,” Lytton guessed, and heard the utter relief in his own voice.

“Which he’s now done,” Kelly echoed, satisfaction in hers. “I’ve been in Spain seeing this thing through. Got back this morning and came straight up here.” She nodded to the rucksack at her feet.

“Well I’m glad you did,” he said. “Am I supposed to ask why?”

She gave him a smile that was almost shy. “O’Neill told me you offered to post my bail. I wanted to . . . thank you. In person.”

He realised he was still grasping her upper arms and he loosened his grip, slipping his hands round onto her back and tracing the outline of her shoulder blades, the indentations of her spine, with his fingertips. He watched her face all the while, saw what he hoped to see and began to draw her closer.

At the last moment Kelly brought her hands up and wedged them against his chest.

“No,” she said, but when he would have released her with a muttered apology she added, “not here, that’s all. I mean, I want to, don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t sure if
you
did, but . . . I meant not right outside the church where you’ve just held your wife’s memorial service.”

“Where, then?” The question came out more starkly than he intended.

Another gust of wind whipped between the gravestones and she shivered. “Anywhere that isn’t so damned cold would be a good start.”

Matthew Lytton smiled.

“I hear the Bahamas is very nice this time of year . . .”

—END—
From the Author’s notebook

The whole idea behind THE BLOOD WHISPERER came about because I was playing around with the theme of trust. As a London crime-scene specialist Kelly Jacks trusted what the evidence she collected was telling her and she enjoyed the particular trust of her colleagues who nicknamed her The Blood Whisperer because of her affinity with the work she carried out.

 

Then that trust is betrayed. Everyone she’s ever known lets her down and turns away from her. And when she’s tried and convicted of a violent crime she even loses trust in herself over her own innocence or guilt.

So the story is also about the rebuilding of Kelly’s ability to trust—in the evidence, in herself, and both in the people she’s known for years and those she’s only just met. I was originally going to call the book THE CARRION CREW, a play on the name of Kelly’s mentor and boss of the crime-scene cleaning firm, Ray McCarron, but was worried it had too many horror overtones for a crime novel. Then my husband suggested THE BLOOD WHISPERER and that fitted just right.

 

Although I’ve been writing the Charlie Fox series for some years now, that doesn’t mean I’m not interested in exploring other characters and other situations. I hope, however, that fans of Charlie Fox will find much to like in another strong female protagonist—Kelly Jacks.

Acknowledgements

Getting this book to fruition seems to have been a long and tortuous path, and I’m eternally grateful to the various people who test-read it, either in small chunks or the whole thing, some of them several times: JT Ellison, Sarah Harrison, Kate Kinchen, Kirsty Long, Michelle Wilbye, Tim Winfield, and all the members of the Warehouse Writers Group in Kendal. You have the patience of a whole congregation of saints.

 

Further editorial input came initially from Stephanie Glencross, and latterly from Rhian Davies. Thank you both so much for your efforts.

Specific information on certain aspects of climbing was provided by Jo Roberts, and on forensics by Home Office Pathologist Bill Lawler. I am aware that the Government-run Forensic Science Service, based at Lambeth, was closed in March 2012, but you’ll just have to suspend your disbelief long enough to understand that the events of this book took place before that date, if you’d be so kind.

 

And finally, a big thank you to my talented designer, Jane Hudson at NuDesign, who came up with the stunning cover for this novel.

If you’ve enjoyed THE BLOOD WHISPERER, why not try Zoë Sharp’s Other Works:

the Charlie Fox crime thrillers
KILLER INSTINCT: book one
RIOT ACT: book two
HARD KNOCKS: book three

Books one, two and three are available as an e-boxed set:
A TRIPLE SHOT of Charlie Fox

FIRST DROP: book four
ROAD KILL: book five
SECOND SHOT: book six

Books four, five and six are available as an e-boxed set:
ANOTHER ROUND of Charlie Fox

THIRD STRIKE: book seven
FOURTH DAY: book eight
FIFTH VICTIM: book nine
DIE EASY: book ten
ABSENCE OF LIGHT: a Charlie Fox novella
Short stories
The Night Butterflies
Last Right
Tell Me
Across The Broken Line
FOX FIVE: Charlie Fox short story collection
A Bridge Too Far
Postcards From Another Country
Served Cold
Off Duty
Truth And Lies
Rules Of Engagement
Browse my Bookshelf
KILLER INSTINCT
Charlie Fox book one

‘Susie Hollins may have been no great shakes as a karaoke singer, but I didn’t think that was enough reason for anyone to want to kill her.’

Charlie Fox makes a living teaching self-defence to women in a quiet northern English city. It makes best use of the deadly skills she picked up after being kicked out of army Special Forces training for reasons she prefers not to go into. So, when Susie Hollins is found dead hours after she foolishly takes on Charlie at the New Adelphi Club, Charlie knows it’s only a matter of time before the police come calling. What they
don’t
tell her is that Hollins is the latest victim of a homicidal rapist stalking the local area.

Charlie finds herself drawn closer to the crime when the New Adelphi’s enigmatic owner, Marc Quinn, offers her a job working security at the club. Viewed as an outsider by the existing all-male team, her suspicion that there’s a link between the club and a serial killer doesn’t exactly endear her to anyone. Charlie has always taught her students that it’s better to run than to stand and fight, But, when the killer starts taking a very personal interest, it’s clear he isn’t going to give her that option . . .

‘Charlie looks like a made-for-TV model, with her red hair and motorcycle leathers, but Sharp means business. The bloody bar fights are bloody brilliant, and Charlie’s skills are both formidable and for real.’
Marilyn Stasio, New York Times

‘Sharp deserves a genre all her own – if you are just discovering Zoë Sharp then you are in for a real treat.’
Jon Jordan, Crimespree Magazine

‘Charlotte (Charlie) Fox is one of the most vivid and engaging heroines ever to swagger onto the pages of a book. Where Charlie goes, thrills follow.’
Tess Gerritsen

RIOT ACT
Charlie Fox book two

“I am a violent man, Miss Fox,” Garton-Jones said, without bravado or inflection. “I can – and will – do whatever is necessary to control this estate. Remember that.”

A self-defence expert with a motorbike and an attitude, Charlie Fox doesn't need to go looking for trouble. It generally finds her. House-sitting for a friend seems like an easy favour at first but the house in question is in the Lavender Gardens estate. Teenage gangs are running riot and Charlie's desperate neighbours have been forced to employ an expensive – and ruthless – security firm to apply rough justice where the legal kind has failed. The situation gets even uglier when a young Asian boy is fatally wounded in what appears to be a racially motivated shooting.

Caught in the middle of an urban battlefield, Charlie's more than able to take care of herself but then she comes face to face with a spectre from her army past. As the tensions rise, lives will depend on Charlie working out just who she can really trust . . .

‘Sharp's first novel,
Killer Instinct
was a good read, but within the first few pages of
Riot Act
she surpasses herself. She succeeds in bringing the characters alive and Charlie Fox makes a powerful and attractive heroine. Equally, her other characters work well and she succeeds in creating snappy dialogue and mixing it well with action.

'At times,
Riot Act
feels slightly reminiscent of Minette Walters' 'Acid Row'. . . (Sharp) takes her Lancashire setting, throws in a great deal of action and creates a fast-paced novel that is guaranteed to build on the reputation created by her debut novel and make her known as an up-and-coming talent in the crime world.'
Luke Croll, Murder & Mayhem Book Club

HARD KNOCKS
Charlie Fox book three

'Perhaps if the army had known what was inside me, what I would eventually turn into, they might not have been so keen to let me go.'

 

Charlie really didn't care who shot dead her traitorous ex-army comrade Kirk Salter during a bodyguard training course in Germany. But when old flame Sean Meyer asks her to go undercover at Major Gilby's elite school and find out what happened to Kirk she just can't bring herself to refuse.

Keeping her nerve isn't easy when events bring back fears and memories she's worked so hard to forget. It's clear there are secrets at Einsbaden Manor that people are willing to kill to conceal. Some of the students on this particular course seem to have more on their minds than simply learning about close protection. Subjects like revenge, and murder. And what's the connection between the school and the recent spate of vicious kidnappings that have left a trail of bodies halfway across Europe?

 

To find out what's going on, Charlie must face up to her past and move quickly before she becomes the next casualty. She expected training to be tough, but can she graduate from this school of hard knocks alive?

'If you only know Charlie Fox from
First Drop
,
Second Shot
, and
Third Strike
, you don't know Charlie. What you've got in your hands is a rare and special treat. It’s like finding some lost Jack Reacher novel or a couple of non-alphabet Kinsey Millhones that nobody knew existed. Don't let anyone tear it from your hands without drawing their blood.

 

'Think of these as the early years of Charlie Fox − she’s lethal and relentless, but still raw from the military experience that made her the kickass, take-no-prisoners bodyguard that she’s become.

'But there’s more going on in these books than breakneck action and adventure. Charlie has heart, maybe too much for a woman in her profession . . . and it’s that caring, that humanity, that makes her much more than a killer babe on a motorbike. These books are your chance to discover Charlie Fox as she discovers herself, her strengths and her weaknesses, and sustains the scars to her body and soul that make her such a unique and compelling character.'
US crime author and TV producer, Lee Goldberg

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