Summer Reads, Sneaky Peeks: Tony Forder's If Fear Wins
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When a torched body is found in a country lane, DI Bliss and Chandler are called in to investigate.
The detectives are drawn towards recent missing person reports, and believe their victim will prove to be one of them. Bliss thinks he knows which, and fears the outcome if he is proven right.
Soon the body is identified, and Bliss and Chandler discover evidence suggesting this murder might be a terrorist attack.
Meanwhile, someone from Bliss’s past needs his help, and soon he is juggling his personal life with the demanding case. To make matters more complicated, MI5 and the Counter-Terrorist Unit are called in to help solve the case. But are they on the right track?
Bliss and Chandler soon find themselves in a race against time, and this might just be their most challenging case yet…
Tony J Forder is the author of the critically
acclaimed DI Bliss crime thriller series, which began with Bad to the Bone. The sequel, The
Scent of Guilt, was released in February 2018. The third book in the series,
If Fear Wins, was published on 29 May.
Tony’s dark, psychological crime thriller, Degrees of Darkness, featuring ex-detective Frank Rogers, was also published by Bloodhound Books. This was intended to be a stand-alone novel, but Tony is now considering the possibility of a follow-up.
One book that will definitely see a sequel is Scream Blue Murder. This was published in November 2017, and received praise from many, including fellow authors Mason Cross and Matt Hilton.
Tony lives with his wife in Peterborough, UK.
Tony’s dark, psychological crime thriller, Degrees of Darkness, featuring ex-detective Frank Rogers, was also published by Bloodhound Books. This was intended to be a stand-alone novel, but Tony is now considering the possibility of a follow-up.
One book that will definitely see a sequel is Scream Blue Murder. This was published in November 2017, and received praise from many, including fellow authors Mason Cross and Matt Hilton.
Tony lives with his wife in Peterborough, UK.
Sneaky Peek
He and
Chandler both donned the usual forensic paraphernalia before stepping inside
the protective covering beneath which the victim lay. There wasn’t much room,
and Bliss was immediately grateful for the face mask with its mentholated
coating, as the stench of roasted human flesh was rampant inside the confines
of the tent. No such luck where his eyes were concerned, however.
Once
seen, it could never be unseen.
The use
of a vehicle tyre wedged tight around the shoulders had prevented the victim
from striking the usual pugilistic pose caused by muscle shrinkage and joints
subsequently flexing. Still the sight was as disturbing as any Bliss had
encountered during his long career. The blackened, charred mass was more
humanoid-like than human, and the presence of the tyre itself told Bliss the
full extent of the horror. Scraps of clothing had melted into the scorched
flesh, creating a patchwork of ruined features. The hardened layers not yet
mottled and black were instead red and glistening, raw and still weeping fats
not consumed by flames. The fire had raged long and deep, eating its way down
to the bone with a voracious appetite. Whilst little of the face was
recognisable as such, the mouth was locked wide, mandible exposed.
‘Poor
bastard was alive when this happened,’ Bliss said, his voice breaking.
Chandler
nodded and swallowed thickly a couple of times. Her eyes were wide. ‘This is
what they call a necklacing, right?”
‘It is. Some pun on the way the tyre is worn around them
when it’s set alight.’
‘This is a first for me. Hopefully my last. You know, a
bloke I once worked with called the Middle Eastern men who immolate themselves
‘Krispy Karims’ and no matter how ugly the thought, it always got a laugh in
the squad room. Don’t think I will ever even so much as smile at it again.’
‘The
doughnuts are good, though.’
‘That’s
debatable. Oh, and euw.’
‘This is
my first necklacing as well. I don’t recall ever reading about it happening in
this country before, though I guess it must have at some point.’
Other
than the remains of both the body and the tyre, there was nothing much else to
see. A significant patch of scorched earth, a slew of scuff marks, but no
footprints or discarded items. They left the tent, the fresh air upon his flesh
feeling like a minor miracle somehow to Bliss after being trapped beneath
canvas with that grotesque, nightmarish vision. He whipped off the mask and
spat several times upon the tarmac surface of the road, well away from the
crime scene itself. He noticed with wry amusement Chandler on the far side of
the road, vomiting onto the grassy verge. Bliss gave her a moment to gather
herself and gargle with some water handed to her by one of the Corby crime
scene technicians.
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