Blanket of Blood by Eileen Wharton
The body of a baby is found in the woods but all is not as it seems.
A twisted serial killer is targeting pregnant teenage girls.
DI Blood races against the clock to stop the most chilling murderer he’s ever hunted. His private life meanwhile threatens to distract him and derail his investigation.
Any mistakes, any hesitation on his side, could cost another innocent life ...
About the author
Eileen Wharton is an Oscar winning actress, Olympic gymnast, and Influencer. She also tells lies for a living. Her first novel was published in 2011 to worldwide critical acclaim. And she’s won awards for exaggeration. It did top the Amazon humour chart so she’s officially a best-selling author. She currently has five ‘lively’ offspring ranging from thirty-three to fourteen years of age, and has no plans to procreate further, much to the relief of the local schools and police force. She lives on a council estate in County Durham. She has never eaten kangaroo testicles, is allergic to cats and has a phobia of tinned tuna. She’s retired from arguing with people on the internet.
Follow her at:
Twitter: https://twitter.com/WhartonEileen
Facebook :https://www.facebook.com/eileen.whartonwriter
Instagram :https://www.instagram.com/eileenscribblings/
As part of the blog tour it is my pleasure to share an extract of the book.
Everything’s ready. I lift your hand and kiss your fingertips. They’re cold and have an unmistakable odour. Your own special perfume. I double-lock the door. You can’t be too careful round here. The smack-heads from the estate will take your cutlery if it’s not nailed down. Scum.
I climb into the driver’s seat, start the van and pull out of our driveway. I head for the town. The clock on my dashboard reads 15:14. I wait for her round the corner, out of sight. She walks so far with the red-haired slut in the miniskirt, then through the park. The bus pulls up and she gets on.
She rides the bus home and I follow behind at a distance. A kid jumps up and down on the back seat, sticking out her tongue at the drivers behind. She gets off at Marl Lane and I drive round the corner to Duke Street to wait for her. Lines of washing traverse the back street and a wheelie bin spews out its entrails into the road. Two dogs fight over a discarded pizza and a small child kicks a ball at an old coalhouse wall. She’ll be half an hour if my previous timings are anything to go by. I wait for the patter of her trainers, the track-suit, the swish of her mousey hair, pulled back into a ponytail, pink glossed lips, hips swishing side to side. She doesn’t disappoint. I close my eyes and watch through slits for an even number. 16:30 flashes and she appears in my vision just as I’ve rehearsed. Fog begins to curl round corners and a light drizzle escapes from woeful clouds.
She looks startled as the van crawls up beside her. She looks to her right then back in front. She swings her rucksack in a circle and hooks it over her right shoulder.
‘Excuse me, love,’ I say. She peers at me, slows her steps and squints to get a better look. I smile and pull the brake. ‘Don’t suppose you know anyone who wants to buy a new mattress? It’s a brand-new double.’
‘Er, well…’ I can tell she’s torn between not wanting to be late and not wanting to be rude.
‘I only want eighty sovs for it. It’s top of the range. To tell the truth, it’s me last one and the boss says not to take it back to the warehouse, just to get rid.’
‘Me mam needs a new mattress; she’s got a bad back.’
‘It’s in the back; I can show you it if you like. It’ll only take a sec.’
‘You’re best off knocking on me mam’s door,’ she says. ‘It’s number thirteen. She probably can’t afford it, though.’
I don’t want to lose her. I switch off the engine, open the door and jump down.
‘She don’t need to pay for it all at once. I can take a bit each dole day. Honest, it’s top quality memory foam. I work at Bedshed. I wuz gonna give it to me old mum, but she says it’s too soft. She likes one hard as diamonds.’ I open the back door and flick my head in an ‘over here’ gesture. She bites her bottom lip, sighs and steps towards me.
She peers in at the mattress, still in its polythene wrapper.
‘Feel how soft it is.’
She leans forward, her hand pressing on the plastic. I push from behind. Her body lurches forward. I pick up her legs and bundle the rest of her inside. She starts banging as soon as the doors are shut, but they’re locked and I’m now in the driver’s seat, pulling away. I turn up the radio to drown the sounds of her screams.
