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Jack Wood catches thieves.
Shoplifters, kleptomaniac aristocrats, employees skimming the till. If someone steals, Jack finds them.
Then a teenager walks into a Canterbury shop with a rented gun in her bag—one already used in multiple murders.
Overnight, Jack is pulled into a dark black-market trade. A wealthy client’s story doesn't add up. A detective leaks classified details. And the trail points straight to a corrupt town hiding a nightmare.
Jack Wood is no hero. He might not even be one of the good guys.
Some cities keep their secrets buried. Jack digs them up. One grave at a time.
Pick up The River Murders to uncover Canterbury's darkest secrets.
Genre: FICTION / Thrillers / Crime
This book only launched yesterday in ebook format with the paperback soon to follow. It has already seen some sales and I am marketing it daily on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.
If catching thieves were easy, I wouldn't have a job. That was what Paul, my intern, struggled to understand. He focused on faces, hoping to see a revealing sign in their expressions. But it didn't work that way. There's no ‘thief face’.
Some people have it, some don't. Most didn't. They were ordinary people, coming to the department store with the same lost look as any other customer. They didn't know what they would steal, just like the customers didn't know what they would buy. Maybe a psychologist could explain the whys and hows, though that wasn't my job.
But the girl who had entered Fenwick was different. You could see it clearly. She wasn't a customer, and I was sure she wasn't a thief either. She seemed lost, except we were in the centre of Canterbury, and it was a Saturday morning before Christmas.
Later, someone would swear she was a shady character. Others would claim she was such a good girl they could never believe what happened. That proved my theory. Nobody could say for sure, not by looking at her face.
Like the countess. She was in her forties, blonde with lots of curves. In all the right places. And she had money; there was no doubt about that. Her specialty was swiping bras. She would enter the fitting room with three items, then come out and put them back. One of them was her own, used.
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Italian
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Unavailable for translation.
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