Welcome to my stop on the blog tour for Know Me Now (The Dan Forrester series, #3) by C.J. Carver. Today, I’ve got an extract of the book for you – hopefully it will entice you to pick it up, when it is released in later this year by Bonnier Zaffre (ebook is available 14 December and the paperback is published 11 January 2018).
About the book
A SUICIDE. A MURDER. A CONSPIRACY.
DIGGING UP THE PAST CAN BE DEADLY . . .
A thirteen-year-old boy commits suicide.
A sixty-five-year old man dies of a heart attack.
Dan Forrester, ex-MI5 officer, is connected to them both.
And when he discovers that his godson and his father have been murdered, he teams up with his old friend, DC Lucy Davies, to find answers.
But as the pair investigate, they unravel a dark and violent mystery stretching decades into the past and uncover a terrible secret.
A secret someone will do anything to keep buried . . .
About C.J. Carver
C.J. Carver’s first novel Blood Junction won the CWA Debut Dagger and was selected by Publishers Weekly as one of the best mystery books of the year. Half-English, half New Zealand, C.J. has been a travel writer and long-distance rally driver, driving London to Saigon and London to Cape Town. Her novels have been published in the UK and the USA and translated into several languages.
And, as promised, here’s an extract of Know Me Now – enjoy:
Lucy sipped her beer slowly. Continued to talk to the two men. Watched Murray as he ordered and drank two more whiskies. Finally, he said, ‘Bugger it. They’re not fucking turning up.’ And left.
Making her apologies, Lucy put her glass on the table and hurried after him. She caught him up just as he beeped open his car, a tatty old Rover, and he turned, surprised.
‘Firecat,’ she said.
He stared at her. ‘What?’
‘What the fuck is this?’
‘You’re supposed to be meeting someone else but they can’t make it. I’m here in their stead.’
He took a step back. ‘Why can’t he make it?’
‘He didn’t say. But he told me that meeting you was incredibly important, that he didn’t want to miss it, and that I had to be here instead.’
‘Fucksake.’ He ran a hand over his face. ‘I’ve got a fucking story to tell that’s worth a fortune and he sends me a pint-sized fucking emissary instead.’
His eyes turned cunning. ‘Give me the fifty grand and I’ll tell you.’
‘I don’t know anything about fifty grand,’ she said carefully.
‘Why am I not surprised?’ He flung up his hands. ‘What a waste of a fucking journey.’
‘Hey,’ she said, putting out a hand. ‘Wait a moment –’
He slapped her hand away. ‘Fuck off. Get the big man to meet me himself next time, OK?’
The temptation to whip out her warrant card and scare the crap out of him for drink driving nearly crippled her. She forced herself to take several deep breaths to steady herself as she watched him climb into his shitty heap of a car. He gave her the finger as he left. Unbelievable. What a misogynistic shitbag.
The second he was out of view, she pelted for her Corsa, wishing she’d parked closer, wanting to follow him, but as she tore around the rear of her car a dark shape suddenly reared up out of the dark and wrapped its arms around her. A man. He wore gloves and a balaclava.
She opened her mouth to shout, scream for help, but there was no time.
The man slammed his forehead straight into her face.
She felt her nose break as the world exploded into white light. Her limbs went numb. Warm liquid poured down her face and chin. Choking she tried to call out but he leaned forward and punched her hard in the stomach. All the air rushed out of her lungs.
Disabled, gasping for breath, she was helpless when he grabbed her hands and yanked them behind her back. She tried to fight but she had no breath and her efforts were pitiful against his brute strength. He dragged her to a car. When she saw its boot was open panic flooded her, giving her a surge of strength. She gave a violent buck and felt his grip slip but then something slammed into the side of her head. This time there was no white light. Just black.
You can read the other posts on the blog tour here: