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A body washes up on a beach on a Greek island. Two women at a retreat on the island discover the body early one morning before their yoga session. They are both required to give witness statements to the police but both women are hiding something.
DS Abby Foulkes is back in Greece to investigate the murder of a friend in the late 1990s. She was invited back by Lieutenant Angelo Christofis whom she met whilst holidaying on Skiathos in 2014. But he’s recently had a baby and she senses there’s something wrong. She hasn’t been able to get in touch with him and finds herself all alone in Greece, on another island following up a lead, outside his jurisdiction. Cast adrift, she must keep all her wits about her while she investigates old and new crimes at the same time.
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The hot liquid gushed down his legs and pooled by his feet. It was happening again. The screams were the worst. It sounded as if animals were being tortured.
His mother had said to him, “It’s just a dream. It’s not real. Go back to sleep.”
But he could hear the voices. Begging, screaming, pleading, whimpering, whispering. And then silence.
He stood frozen to the spot uncertain what to do, remembering the other times. Was it a dream? He no longer knew. But he knew his parents wanted him to stay away. He wasn’t sure if it was his dreams they were afraid of, or if it was their dreams he was afraid of or if he was afraid that it wasn’t a dream at all.
His father had taken him to his work once when he was little and shown him what he called his laboratory. It was ever since then that he’d had these dreams … nightmares. His father had fished the bones out of the tank carefully to show him. He talked about the kill being fresh and the thought of the taste of the flesh tickling his palate. He said the bones were pristine. He didn’t know what the word meant but to him, the bones just looked grey and dull. He hadn’t said anything. Just stood and watched as his father talked about the young doe he had killed. But in his mind, even as his father talked, he had seen the deer running and bounding on the hillside as if she was still alive. That’s what he focused on all through the visit to the laboratory.
His father had muttered about the males being more gristly than the females and how the flesh didn’t separate as easily. Nor did it taste as tender. But it was good in pies. He remembered watching his father working the flesh from the bones. Strands came away. When he saw that he felt the stringy meat from his mother’s pies in his mouth. Other times the flesh exploded away from the bones, like an overripe peach or watermelon splitting open.
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Portuguese
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Already translated.
Translated by Juliana Mendes Rainho
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Author review: A pleasure working with, easy to communicate with, and thoroughly professional. |
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Spanish
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Already translated.
Translated by Pilar Ordaz
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Author review: Pilar has again done a wonderful job in translating my book. It is the third time I have worked with her and I can thoroughly recommend her. She is professional and works with you to achieve the best translation for your book. |
