Psychological Thriller
Date Published: August 5, 2017
The hunters become the hunted…
When Rebecca's childhood abuser avoids prosecution, it sets her on a path to revenge, revenge on any man who preys on the innocent.
Twenty-three-year-old Rebecca poses as a child online and sets her trap, luring one predatory sex offender after another to their deaths.
When a severed head is found washed up on a windswept estuary beach, the police begin their investigation.
The internationally bestselling author of White is the Coldest Colour is back with a heart-racing, electrifying psychological thriller packed with suspense.
Brilliantly gripping, A Mind To Kill will have you hooked from the very first page and holding your breath to the heart-stopping and shocking ending.
What people are saying about A Mind To Kill:
‘A brilliant, searing, page-turning story.’ Renita D’Silva - Bestselling author
‘It chilled me to the core.’ Book Reviews To Ponder
‘Don’t miss out on this gripping page-turner of a psychological thriller.’
Goodreads
‘A very dark psychological thriller fraught with tension and the sense of evil radiating from the pages.’ The Book Revue Cafe
‘This is an author who likes to write and jump just a little over the edge to keep his readers gasping.’ Read Along With Sue
‘Another elegant and exquisitely composed story.’ Melanie Lewis - The Book Club
‘Packs a punch between the eyeballs that will keep you reeling all the way to the end.’ Ann Girdharry - Bestselling author
‘Brilliant, emotionally charged story telling that will leave readers on their edge of their seats until the very last page.’ Tome Tender Book Blog
‘Another superb read by John Nicholl.’ Cheekypee Reads And Reviews
Excerpt:
Chapter 1
9 October 1982
Detective Sergeant
Gareth Gravel sat back in the driver’s seat of his West Wales Police Mondeo and
stared at the Smith family’s front door for almost five minutes before finally
exiting the vehicle. Delivering bad news was never easy. He’d seriously considered
delegating the task to one of the force’s new-fangled touchy-feely family
liaison officers for a time, but he’d eventually decided that it was
something he had to do himself. He was a DS now, and rank carried
responsibilities as well as privileges. It was his case, his failure and, like
it or not, he had to man up, say his piece and face the inevitable shitstorm
coming his way. Best get it over with and get out of there just as fast as his
size tens could carry him.
Grav, as he was
known by all in the force, took one last drag on his cigar before throwing the
glowing butt to the floor and grinding it into the gutter with the heel
of a shoe that was badly in need of polish. Come on, Grav my boy,
let’s get this done. He’d be in the rugby club with a pint of best
bitter in one hand and a set of darts in the other before he knew
it.
A small
part of him was hoping he wouldn’t receive an answer as he walked down the
concrete driveway, approached the front door and knocked with gradually
increasing force. But, all too soon,a naked bulb bathed the hall
in a depressing yellow hue and a man in his mid thirties,
who he immediately recognised as David Smith, stood facing him.
‘Can I come in
for a chat, Mr Smith?’
Smith gripped
the doorframe to either side of him. ‘Any news?’
‘Can we speak
inside, Mr Smith? There’s things we need to discuss.’
‘Just say it,
man. We’re sick of waiting.’
‘I’d rather not
do this on the doorstep, if that’s all right with you?’
Smith lowered
his arms, turned without reply and hurried towards the lounge, where his wife
was shuffling from one foot to the other as if the floor was too cold to stand
on.
‘Sergeant Gravel’s
finally got some news for us, Jan.’
Janice Smith
forced a less-than-convincing smile, oblivious to her involuntary
dance. ‘Can I get youa cup of something, Sergeant? You look as if you
could do with it.’
‘I’m all right
thanks, love. Kind of you to offer.’
‘You’re sure?
It’s no trouble.’
Grav
took a seat in a convenient armchair and thought
for a moment that she may start weeping. ‘Oh, go on then, you’ve
talked me into it. I’ll have a mug of tea with plenty of sugar.’
‘And a biscuit?’
‘Thanks, love,
it’s appreciated. Chocolate if you’ve got one.’
‘One mug of
sweet tea and a nice Bourbon coming up. Anything for you, Dai?’
He shook his
head. ‘I’m good thanks, Jan.’
David Smith
waited for his wife to leave the room before moving to the very edge of the
settee. ‘Right, what the hell’s all this about? This isn’t a social
visit. That’s blatantly bloody obvious to all of us. Why drag it out?’
‘Is Rebecca in
the house?’
Smith frowned,
the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention. ‘Why ask about Becca?
Hasn’t she been through enough for one short lifetime?’
‘I just don’t
want her overhearing our conversation.’
He swallowed
hard. ‘That’s one thing you don’t have to worry about. She’s staying with Jan’s
mum and dad for a couple of days. They’ve got a caravan on
the Pembrokeshire coast near Amroth. There’s a heated pool. We thought
it might take her mind off things. God knows she could do with it.’
‘Okay, that’s
good to know. Small mercies and all that. Do you want me to hang on for the
missus to rejoin us before kicking off?’
Smith shook his
head. ‘No, just crack on. I can bring her up to speed when you’re gone. I’m not
sure she can take much more of this shit anyway. She’s on antidepressants as it
is.’
‘Okay, if
that’s how you want to play it. We’ve finally got a decision from the
Crown Prosecution Service.’
Smith hung his
head. ‘So, come on. What’s the verdict?’
‘It’s not good
news.’
‘Oh, for fuck’s
sake!’
‘The CPS don’t
think there’s sufficient evidence to prosecute Sheridan. It’s not going to
court.’
Smith slumped
back in his chair. ‘But, the video interviews. She told that police officer and
social worker everything that happened to her. All of it! She
went into graphic detail, just as you said she’d have to. She
relived all those terrible events to give you the evidence you said
you needed. Can you imagine what that was like? For her? For us as her parents?
She’s suffered flashbacks, nightmares, and she’s wetting the bed again almost
every night. She’s nearly seven for fuck’s sake. Regression, that’s what her
social worker called it. Feeling like shit when she shouldn’t
have a care in the world is probably a more accurate
description from what I’ve seen. And now you’re telling me she went through all
that for nothing. Is that what you’re telling me?’
‘I’m sorry, Mr
Smith, I truly am. We did all we could. I promise you. But, it’s not like the
good old days when the police decided whether or not to
bring a suspect to court. It’s down to the Crown Prosecution Service
these days. And they just don’t feel they’ve got enough to
secure a successful prosecution, despite the evidence provided by
your daughter. That’s how they work. They have to think
there’s a good chance of success before going ahead. I don’t agree
with them, for what it’s worth. I think any half-decent jury would see she’s
telling the truth, but the decision’s made. I’ve tried. I’ve pulled out all the
stops. There’s nothing more I can do.’
A single
tear ran down Smith’s right cheek and found a home on his collar.
‘Well, that’s just not good enough. You gave us the distinct impression that
Sheridan would be locked up for a long, long time. Surely you can
persuade them to change their minds. Let a jury decide. That’s
all I’m asking.’
‘I’m sorry,
I’ve done everything I can. There’s no point in me feeding you some bullshit
version of events to make you feel a little better. It’s not going to
happen, whatever else I say or do … unless we can come up with more credible
evidence. Something solid that corroborates your daughter’s
allegations. A game changer.’
‘And are you
likely to?’
Grav shook his
head, wishing he had a different, more optimistic reply to offer. But
he had to tell it like it was. The man deserved the truth. However unwelcome.
However unpalatable. ‘I can’t see it happening.’
Smith was on
his feet now, his voice raised and reverberating with raw emotion. ‘He touched
her. He made her touch him. My little girl. It went on for months. She’s six
years old, for fuck’s sake. The dirty bastard violated her, and you’re telling
me he’s going to get away with it! How the hell am I supposed to tell Jan? It’ll
break her heart.’
Grav looked on,
temporarily lost for words as the father disintegrated in front of him.
‘Refreshments coming
up. Here you go boys …’ She stopped and stared. ‘What is it, Dai? What’s
happened?’
‘I’ll uh … I’ll
tell you later.’
‘Dai?’
He opened his
mouth as if to speak, but then closed it again, unable to find the words.
She shrieked,
dropped the tray to the floor, turned away from the two men and ran upstairs to
Rebecca’s bedroom, where she clutched a soft toy to her chest and
closed the door against the world.
‘Did you see
the state she’s in?’
‘Yeah, I’m
sorry.’
‘You’ve let us
down, Sergeant. You’ve let me down. You’ve let the missus down, and worst of
all you’ve let Rebecca down. You do realise that, don’t you? This is real life,
not some fucking game.’
Grav reached
out and placed a hand on one of Smith’s broad shoulders, reluctantly
choosing to ignore the wailing coming from the first floor. ‘I gave
Sheridan a seriously hard time, if you know what I’m saying. We kept
him at the station for as long as the law allowed, but he just sat there in
total silence with a smirk on his ugly face, refusing to
answer a single question for hour after hour.’
Smith pulled
away, his face contorting as he choked back his tears. ‘You’re telling me you
did your best. You’re telling me you pulled out all the stops. But it wasn’t
good enough. It wasn’t nearly good enough.’
‘No, it wasn’t.
Not even close.’
‘So how’d it go
so horribly wrong?’
‘Sheridan’s one
clever bastard. He knew there was no unequivocal forensic evidence; he knew his
wife had given him alibis for some of the relevant dates and he knew the only
witness was a six-year-old little girl. He believed he
had a good chance of walking away if he kept his mouth tight shut,
and he was right. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing.’
‘So he’s free
to get on with his life as if he did nothing at all?’
‘Look, Dai, I’d
slice the cunt’s balls off if it were up to me. But, yeah, that’s the crux of
it. In the eyes of the law, he’s an innocent man.’
David Smith
screwed up his face and spat his words. ‘I’ll tear the dirty bastard apart if I
see him.’
‘And I wouldn’t
blame you, Dai. Honestly, I wouldn’t. I’d want to do much the same thing myself
in your place. But Janice needs you here. Rebecca needs you here. What good
would you be to them banged up in prison for fuck knows how long?’
‘There’s no
justice in this world.’
‘Sometimes
there is and sometimes there isn’t. That’s the truth of it. I’ll put the word
out within the force. Sheridan will slip up. His kind always do. We’ll nail him
for something in the end.’
Smith followed
as Grav rushed towards the front door. ‘That’s the best you’ve got? You’ll get
him one day.’
‘Now might
be a good time to go and see that wife of yours. You’ve both got to
find a way of putting this behind you, Dai. Leave Sheridan to me.
I’ve seen it before. If you don’t, it’ll destroy you.’
About the Author
John Nicholl, an ex police officer, child protection social worker and lecturer, has written three dark psychological suspense thrillers, each of which have been Amazon international bestsellers, reaching # 1 in multiple categories in the United Kingdom, France, Spain, Australia, Canada and the USA. John is always happy to hear from readers, bloggers or the media, and can be contacted via his author website at: http://www.johnnicholl.com. Rights enquiries should be directed to Mr Toby Mundy - Literary agent at TMA. A Mind To Kill was published on 5 August 2017.
Contact Links
Purchase Link
1 comments:
Thank you for posting
Post a Comment