#Tuesday Book Blog ~ CrossFire…with poem by Anita #MysteryThriller

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Excerpt from CrossFire

‘Do you know why we have brought you here today, Ann?’

Ruth thought she would ease her way in, rather than accuse her straight off, for triggering any hostility wouldn’t get them anywhere.

The woman stared at Ruth, her pale, colourless eyes searching for clues. ‘Nah… but I ‘spect you’ll get to it pretty quick…’

Ruth indicated a brown paper bag on the table beside her. ‘We found a pair of work boots at your house, Ann. According to your husband, they’re not his. Are they yours?’

Ann Taylor glared at Ruth. She seemed to be enjoying the interview, her arrogance showing through the previous nervousness. ‘Dunno, can’t see them can I?’

Ruth undid the bag and placed the dirty boots on the table. Most of the mud had dried and fallen off, but still didn’t seem like the kind of boot a woman would wear. ‘Are these your boots, Ann?’

Without looking at the boots, she shook her head. ‘Nah, I don’t think so.’

Ruth looked at Snow, but not for confirmation. She wondered why he was choosing to stay silent. What was the point of sitting in if he wasn’t going to contribute? Not that she cared, one way or the other. She had only looked at him to signify inclusion.

She looked back at the woman. ‘Are you quite sure, Ann?’

The woman shrugged her shoulders and refused to speak.

‘For the benefit of the tape, Ann Taylor has refused to answer.’

Ruth decided to read out the coroner’s report, detailing every bruise and damage to the child’s body. When she read the part about the boot imprint on the child’s back, she slid the photograph across the table in front of the mother.

‘Did you do this, Ann?’

When the woman didn’t answer, Ruth decided it was time to play the ace card, and she looked forward to it. This cold-hearted bitch of a woman was about to be arrested, but not before Ruth had enjoyed herself. ‘Are you aware that the person who wore these boots would have left significant DNA inside them?’

Ruth paused, watching as the realisation sunk in.  ‘And are you also aware that we have tested your DNA and it has been proved that you are the owner of these boots?’

The fear and shame were beginning to show on the woman’s face, and Ruth watched, wondering what she would do now. She didn’t have to wait long to find out.

Ann Taylor’s face seemed to implode, as the terror of being found out took effect.  ‘I swear I don’t remember that part… I know I were angry, but when she fell over and banged her head, I thought she was dead…’

‘So what did you do then, Ann?’ Ruth knew what had happened next, but not which one of them had done it.  ‘Were you aware that Amy was still alive when you dropped her into the canal?’

The horror was all-encompassing, as the woman realised the enormity of what she had done. She looked around the room, just once, before she started screaming…

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#Throwback Thursday~#Out of Time… #MysteryThriller

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Excerpt from Out of Time…

Kate sat at the table in the Vestry with her head in her hands. She couldn’t believe Jack had found her again, in spite of all the Snowman’s security. She kept seeing the ivory roses, blood dripping from the petals, laid on the altar like an offering. Only Jack could have thought of something that macabre.

The blood reminded her of what had happened to her beloved Dylan, her silver tabby. Jack had ripped him apart in her kitchen, strewing blood and fur all over the floor for her to find. At least this time, she wouldn’t have to clean up the mess.

Why had Michael gone outside?

She knew he was having trouble coming to terms with the fact that their relationship was over. After all this time it must have been a bitter pill to swallow. But going against David Snow’s specific orders was foolish and irresponsible. Maybe his depression had grown bad enough to warrant taking such a risk. Or had he wanted to die?

The voice disapproved. ‘I did ask you to try and be kind to him, Kate. Even though you couldn’t love him, you, of all people, should have treated him better than that…’

It was true; she could remember feeling that bad. Jack had that effect on most people. Just knowing he was out there somewhere had made her suicidal in the past, and the feeling wasn’t too far away at the moment.

The Snowman should have let her see Michael, her imagination couldn’t be worse than the real thing. Right then, it didn’t seem real, and she kept expecting to see him come through the door at any minute. She wished with all her heart that she had run away the first time she suspected Jack was back on the scene. Michael’s sudden reappearance had reawakened all her old desires and dreams, rendering her incapable of thinking straight.

Fate was too cruel. Why had it conspired to bring Jack back into her life at that particular time? If he hadn’t arrived when he did, her brother would not have died and the chain of destruction would have broken.

She wanted to run away but suspected there was no point. Jack would find her wherever she went. The knowledge sunk in that none of them were safe anymore, if they ever were. What would it take to be rid of Jack for good?

Kate heard the door open but realised the noise had come from the wrong side of the room. As she raised her head to investigate, a damp, sweet-smelling cloth covered her face. She struggled against it, but he was too strong.

The room went dark and then faded away…

https://mybook.to/NewOutofTime

#Whatdoyousee #Keepitalive

What do you see # 31 -25 May 2020

Image credit- Pixabay- ArtTower

(For visually challenged reader, the image shows a road leading towards a dwelling in the forest. It is hidden in fog and surrounded by tall trees. A light is shining brightly out of the window of the house)

A finger of yellow light shines through the fog

This means life, hidden behind the tall trees

Am I trespassing?

My nosiness answered by a shotgun blast

Lifting the hair on my head

I ran, as if I had sprouted wings on my feet.

Believing myself far enough from danger

I lent against a tall tree,

Letting my body slide to the ground

My breath slowing,

my heart beating in time with fear

I remembered seeing a small cabin through the fog

Why did they shoot at me?

Had it been a warning, or did they take aim?

They could have just asked me to leave

Had they lost the art of communication?

Rested now, I decided to take the long way around

Avoiding any further confrontation.

This was not to be

The yellow light shone in my face

Blinding me to who may be holding it

I felt the sharp end of a needle enter my neck

Then blackness.

On waking, I found myself in my own bed

I had no recollection of the two days that had passed.

Remembering the sting of the needle

Placed my hand where the needle had pierced.

I found a small raised bump

Now I realised the stories about the cabin to be true

I had been taken…

©anita dawes 2020

Why I am reposting Broken… #Poetry

 

 

Broken coloured shards of light

inside a kaleidoscope

caught inside a tumble dryer

that’s how my life feels.

Broken, trapped inside a bubble

waiting for someone to burst it

let the pieces out, try to put them back together.

How can one life be so fractured, splintered?

How can I have wasted so much time

on a fool with no eyes to see?

Was he blinded by the shards of light

from an ancient woodland?

Did the light remove part of his

knowing, his ability to love?

Can my love remove the blind?

I am reposting Anita’s lovely poem today because I am broken.

Somehow, I have become a virus victim. I don’t think it is THE  virus… but today all bets are off!

my temperature keeps soaring, but not having trouble breathing, so not really sure of anything yet. I do feel a little better today, so maybe it is on the way out!

Thinking of you all,

Jaye

 

 

 

#Writephoto ~ Otherwordly #Poetry

Thursday photo prompt: Otherworldly #writephoto

 

beyond

Image by scvincent.com

For visually challenged writers, the image shows an opening between boulders, through which a rocky plateau can be seen, half hidden by mist.

Speak of Us

Green grey boulders

Washed together by an ancient ice melt

A great place to sit and meditate

Through the small window to the world outside

Mist rolling in towards me

What hides behind, teasing my mind?

Do I step from the safety of the solid walls?

To venture, to answer the voice calling

Are the words only in mind?

We need your help.

I hear the beating of wings as the mist clears

I see her, the black dog standing beside her

Come no further, lest you be lost

To a land long forgotten

Angels, heroes, long fallen into dust

They speak of us no longer

We are fading as the mist

Where so few feel us linger

Waiting to be remembered

Do you recognise the black dog?

Do you know who he once walked beside?

We ask that you speak of us

Tell them we live in the mist

If one would give voice, we can be called back…

©anitadawes 2020

 

writephoto

 

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