Time To Play by KA Richardson (best book club books of all time TXT) 📗

a few weeks was rash, impulsive, and a completely out of character decision.

But it also felt completely right, she acknowledged as she left the flat with Elvie.

A Care Home, Sunderland – 18 December

Across town, Connor sat in the green, leatherette chair, staring out of the window at the fields beyond.

He’d received his marching orders from the police before he’d even been discharged from hospital. He’d known it would happen, but it still stung. They couldn’t let him keep his job when he’d been swayed into giving intel to a criminal, whether said criminal had blackmailed him or not. Most of the people he’d considered friends had slowly backed away, not wanting to be associated with a dirty cop, which was what he essentially was.

He’d managed to avoid criminal charges. The Crown Prosecution Service happy that he’d acted in self-defence where Fred had been concerned, and happy that the information he’d provided on Fred was sufficient that the issue of him passing intel over was lessened to a non-chargeable offence. Not that it mattered now, anyway. Fred was locked up in a tiny cell with no release imminent. The judge had ruled he would serve life, no parole.

Connor was still jobless though. And in a few short months when he couldn’t pay the mortgage on his flat any more, he’d be homeless.

Marie hadn’t spoken to him at all since she’d blown her top at the hospital. She’d accused him of being in with Fred, saying only a partner would pass him information that wasn’t supposed to be shared. She’d already gone back to her perfect uni life, requesting additional financial aid, and had every intention of carrying on without Connor in her life at all, blaming him for the death of their dad, for Fred being a criminal and for their mother being placed in the home.

Sheila lay on the bed near the window, her head turned towards the window permanently. The nurses said it was shock from the change to her living arrangements. They didn’t know if she would improve. It was guilt that drove him to sit with her every day for hours on end. Guilt and the knowledge that he’d finally got his way: his mum was in the home like he’d wanted, so in essence everything that had happened was indeed his fault.

Gently, he rubbed his thumb over the razor blade in his jacket pocket, feeling the sharp edge cut through the top layers of skin as though they were nothing more than hot butter. He felt the smallest amount of blood well to the surface, and he smiled. This he could control, when everything else around was falling to shit, he could feel this.

Closing his eyes, he laid his head back and rested against the chair.

Life sucked. It was, in fact, a complete load of bollocks.

His stomach pulled as he shifted position, reminding him he still hadn’t healed. The doctor had said it would take months to heal properly – when Fred had twisted the blade it had caused bad muscle damage.

He didn’t know what he was going to do now. Nothing was any clearer now than it had been a week ago.

Sighing, he laid his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes.

The shit would still be there tomorrow.

 

Acknowledgements

Massive thanks to Emma Mitchell of Creating Perfection for formatting and to Kate Noble of Noble Owl Proofreading – words will never be enough for the work these fantastic women have done for me. I will always be grateful.

This book is based around the dive team – and a massive thank you goes to Steve Howe who is a police diver, a sergeant, and has been instrumental in helping me get this novel into shape. My unending questions about where to submerge a body, and would this reservoir be deep enough to hide the body etc, were answered rapidly without him even batting an eyelid. The dive team headquarters, and the equipment room were fab in helping me paint a picture to use in my mind.

I couldn’t write this novel without thinking of those trafficked into the country illegally and the things they have to go through – it was part of my research but as it progressed, I came to understand more and more about how much these folk go through and how very hard it is for them. If I could have one wish come from this book, it would be to raise awareness – human trafficking is real, it’s dangerous, and it’s close to home. If you see anything you think may constitute anything like this, whether sex workers, cannabis farms, slavery etc, please please report it.

To all my crime scene investigator friends who are always there with answers when I need them – you’re fabulous. Thank you. As always, the lovely Inspector Caz has been on hand for my police related questions and as always she’s been fab.

My whole family are so supportive – without them writing just wouldn’t be possible. The support and patience they provide is unwavering and constant. They all make me so proud every single day.

My close friends are my rocks – constant support through good and bad, and not being too shy to tell me when I’m doing something I shouldn’t be! You know who you are – but to mention a few names (by no means all) Claire, Angela, Dionne, Rachel, Vicky, Eileen, Michelle, and Char. Keep shining like the stars you are.

Finally, I’d like to thank YOU, the reader. Writing really wouldn’t be as pleasurable without each and every one of you, whether I know you or not, you make my dreams a reality. It makes me very proud to admit I’m a member of THE Book Club, UK Crime Book Club, Crime Book Club, and several more on Facebook – these clubs make speaking to readers simple and