Summer Reads Sneaky Peaks, Liz Mistry's Uncommon Cruelty

The Blurb

DI Gus McGuire and his team are called in to investigate the disappearance of a teenage boy after his parents return from a weekend away, to find their home trashed and their son missing. But that is just the beginning.   

As the investigation unfolds, Gus must discover what links a violent bikers’ gang, a Muslim youth group and a fundamentalist American based Christian church. 

Alongside this, two cases from the past come back to haunt DI Gus McGuire and his DS, Alice Cooper.

Gus has a lot to juggle, but will he cope?

Uncommon Cruelty is the fourth in the DI Gus McGuire series set in Bradford, West Yorkshire and is a gritty, Northern Noir read.

Author Bio

Liz Mistry grew up in West Calder in Scotland and, after studying at Stirling University, she moved to Bradford, West Yorkshire where she now sets her crime fiction books. Liz is proud to be an honorary Bradfordian and describing Bradford as Warm and Rich and Fearless, she draws on the rich diversity of the city she loves and has lived in for over thirty years. Her DI Gus McGuire series is gritty Northern noir with a bit of Scottish thrown in. 

She is currently studying for a Ph.D. in creative writing at Leeds Trinity University. As part of her Ph.D. she is researching “Where is the teen voice in the adult crime fiction genre?”, with specific reference to the influence of teen social media usage.

Liz teaches creative writing and has appeared in literary festivals throughout the country.  She enjoys reading her work at Open Mic and Noir at the Bar events. In 2016 she was chosen as one of the spotlighted authors at the Bloody Scotland crime writing festival.  She is the lead blogger for the well renowned crime fiction blog The Crime Warp which reviews contemporary UK based crime fiction, comments on current issues around the genre and interviews authors on a regular basis. 

She is available to comment on current issues around creative writing in general and crime fiction in particular and to speak at local and national festivals and conferences.

She is contactable on:

Facebook: @LizMistrybooks

Email: LizMistryAuthor@yahoo.com

Twitter: @LizCrimeWarp

Blog: https://thecrimewarp.blogspot.co.uk/

Website: https://lizmistrycrimewriter.wordpress.com/

Sneaky Peak

Chapter 15

03:55 Unknown Location

I open my eyes. Head’s pounding like fuck! Mouth dry as a nun’s cunt. Can’t move though. Not right now. Aw God, I’m dying! I open my eyes again, just a little bit this time. It’s dark, the sort of dark that takes time to settle in your head. The sort of dark that makes you think you could be buried … alive?

What the fuck? Who’s put the street lights out?

Fucking green dot over there, right high up, keeps flashing; One eyed alien? Smoke alarm?

Heart’s hammering now and I raise my head just a fraction. It starts to thrum like a low volt electricity pylon. God, it hurts. When I lift my hand to touch my temple, it’s like a fucking bear yanking it, pulling my shoulder out of the socket. It’s like there’s barbed wire burrowing and gnawing into my skull, gouging my brain. I want to be sick. This is the worst hangover I’ve had in ages. It’s like I’m not really here. Maybe I’m not. That makes me laugh. If I’m not here, then where the fuck am I? I remember something for a nanosecond and then it’s gone. What is it?

Closing my eyes, I try to focus. Something’s not right. This isn’t my bedroom at home. Then, I remember… the party, kids dancing, the girl on the table, Matty, Jake … the mess. The memory of overpowering alcohol and cloying weed makes my stomach lurch. Shouldn’t have mixed the shots and the bud.

I lie motionless, hoping my head will stop spinning and I’ll be able to sit up. It’s freezing. I try to remember how I got here, that part is blurred though. Not even sure how long I’ve been here. Despite the darkness, I know I’m alone. A groan slips from my lips, followed by a wracking shiver. I pull my other hand from under the coarse blanket and reach out to touch the canvas bed, but my fingers don’t work. I flex them trying to work the numbness from them, but they’re stiff and swollen. Vicious prickles spread to my fingertips like sheet lightening and my knuckles throb. This is bad … really bad. When was the last time I had a downer like this? Maybe that time with Matty and Jake on the Hill. Can’t believe the folks never even noticed how gone I was.

I scrunch my toes and they’re just as bad. How long have I been out? How long have I been here? I start to cough, and phlegm tinged with vomit fills my mouth. I force myself to swallow it. It’s lumpy and tastes vile. I tuck the blanket under my back on both sides, creating a cocoon. Like that fucking Hungry Caterpillar book, she’d read to me when I was a kid. Thought she’d always be there for me. She promised!

No! No! I’m not going there. Not today!

So, I pull my hood up over my head, snuggle my chin into my neck and roll up like a baby, eyes screwed tight. Focussing on getting away is hard because of the cold and those other thoughts; the ones that won’t let me go. At first, it’s just Matty and Jake, the music, Tayyub being a div taking photos… then the bikers arrived–

No! Not going there either.

I delve deeper inside… Gotta reach my safe place right inside my head. No-one can reach me there, no-one can hurt me.

I’ll think about what to do next when I feel better.