Hi Everyone,
Today is my stop on the Blog Tour for I, Witness by Niki Mackay where I have an extract from Niki's latest novel. I was thrilled to be asked by Tracy Fenton of Compulsive Readers to take part along with some other fab book bloggers. You can find out who else is taking part in this fabulous Blog Tour at the end of this extract so without further ado, here it is:
Kate’s family aren’t exactly the Waltons. Dead mum, crazy sister, murderer. I’m not convinced the dad and brother are much better. It’s a lot of misfortune to hit one unit. Unlucky is usually an isolated incident. I wonder if that’s why the shrink ended up keeping hold of Kate’s case. Maybe the material was just too rich to walk away from.
Emma’s done her research on Dean, so I have a good idea who he is before I go to meet him. He’s renowned in his field as one of the best criminal psychologists currently working in the UK. I’m quite sure I’ve read a few of his papers over the years. He must spend the majority of his time in courtrooms these days. He gets called in to give evidence fairly frequently.
I was surprised when Emma told me his office is in Kingston.
I’d expected a Harley Street address. Actually, it’s not that far from my own but certainly a better end of town, heading out towards Ham with views of the Thames.
I am a few minutes early and stand next to my car smoking. I’m working under the admittedly stupid assumption that smoking outside means the smell won’t stick to me. I know it doesn’t work but I put the fag out, chew a mint and spray YSL everywhere anyway. Live in fucking hope right?
A bland blonde receptionist greets me with a halfsmile and rings through to let Hall know I’ve arrived. I wait, watching a screen with no sound showing twenty four hour news. I watch the scroll along the bottom and feel suitably depressed by it. Bland blonde’s fingers run chaotically over the keyboard.
Clacketyclack, clacketyclack. I glance at the clock. Hall is ten minutes late. The clackety clack is rubbing my last fucking nerve.
I’m about to make a complaint about his lateness to her when the door opens. The best looking man I’ve ever seen in real life comes out from an adjoining door. He’s smiling apologetically.
‘I’m so sorry. A patient called and I didn’t feel I could just let him . . . Anyway, sorry I’m late.’ His suit is structured like a second skin and I watch him appreciatively from behind as I follow him into his office.
He sits at his desk and waves me into a chair opposite. I slump and my oversized shoulder bag slides loudly to the floor.
He raises an eyebrow. I grin, aware my lion’s mane hair is likely all over the place. I wonder if I have mascara goop too. I wish I’d checked now. Fuck it. He asks if I want anything to drink.
I say no. He brandishes a bottle of water at me. ‘I’m on the good stuff.’
‘Health kick?’
He sighs, ‘I do try.’ Judging by his pristine condition, I reckon he more than tries. I’m pretty sure his shoulders are a result of some serious gym hours.
I smile. ‘Me too.’ He doesn’t know my only liquid intake is coffee.
‘So you’re here to talk about Kate?’ He smiles.
‘I am, yes.’
His smile widens. ‘I was so glad when I found out she was being released. Now she can start living her life.’
‘How did you find out?’
He takes a sip of his water. ‘She told me. I assume you know we’ve maintained a friendship of sorts?’
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