By Stuart MacBride
A heart-stopping crime mystery from the writer of 3 consecutive No. 1 bestsellers, together with Birthdays for the useless and the DI Logan McRae series.
Eight years in the past, 'The within Man' murdered 4 girls and left 3 extra in severe situation -- them all with their stomachs slit open and a plastic doll stitched inside.
And then the killer simply ... disappeared.
Ash Henderson used to be a Detective Inspector at the preliminary research, yet much can switch in 8 years. His kinfolk has been destroyed, his occupation is in tatters, and certainly one of Oldcastle's so much vicious criminals is ensuring he spends the remainder of his lifestyles in prison.
Now a nurse has grew to become up lifeless on a patch of waste floor, a plastic doll buried underneath her pores and skin, and it looks like Ash could eventually get a shot at redemption. At incomes his freedom.
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Additional resources for A Song for the Dying
Miss Silver gave the slight cough with which it was her custom to indicate disapproval. ’ ‘Oh, no. Papa did not approve of it at all. He always said Olivia had too much influence. And now, you know, they do say that she has got this young Candida Sayle here to try and marry her to Derek Burdon. ’ Miss Louisa looked surprised. ‘Oh, I don’t know, my dear. He is a very good-looking young man, and not as spoiled as Alan Thompson. They might take a fancy to each other. But of course it might not turn out at all as Olivia hoped.
She wanted to enjoy the thrust and parry, the advance and retreat, of a surface relationship. She wasn’t ready for anything else — not yet. But she had only to look at him to know that what he had brought her here to say he would say. In a way it pleased her, and in a way she was angry with herself for being pleased. The anger tinged her voice. ’ Her colour had been bright. That is how he saw her, as an angry brightness. She was bare-headed. Her hair shone. Her eyes were darkly blue. And then the brightness went.
His hand came down upon her knee. ‘Look here, I don’t want that sort of thing! ’ Something in her shrank. She didn’t want to know what he meant. She didn’t want to be as serious as all that. She wanted to enjoy the thrust and parry, the advance and retreat, of a surface relationship. She wasn’t ready for anything else — not yet. But she had only to look at him to know that what he had brought her here to say he would say. In a way it pleased her, and in a way she was angry with herself for being pleased.