♥ Blurb ♥
How far would you go…
Gina Mills is desperate to be a newsreader, but her boss – the director of the struggling Channel Eight, won’t help.
Walking home one night, Gina stumbles upon a dead body, and after calling the police, she makes the split-second decision to report the murder live.
When questioned by the police, Gina can’t remember specific details about her discovery, but these memory gaps are explained away as shock.
…to uncover your family’s deadly secret?
But when Gina finds a second body, it’s clear she’s being targeted. But why?
And how is this connected to the death of Gina’s younger sister so many years ago?
Fans of The Girl Before and Believe Me by JP Delaney, One Little Lie by Sam Carrington, Obscura by Joe Hart, The Silent Child by Sarah A. Denzil and The Guilty Dead by PJ Tracy will love The Other Sister.
♥ Sneak Peek ♥
My eyes fly open.
I’ve kept them squeezed shut for what’s felt like minutes
– but which must have only been for a couple of seconds – in
a futile attempt to clear my head. To calm myself.
There’s a thumping sound, and my head snaps up to face
my bedroom door. I hold my breath as I imagine it flying
inwards, revealing an intruder.
My eyes flit back and forth blindly in the dark, until I
That relentless beating. It isn’t coming from outside. It’s
my own thrumming heart.
Adrenalin seeps from my pores as my temple and my
pulse pound aggressively.
I count backwards from ten. I close my eyes again and
focus on sounds in a bid to combat the darkness that’s
threatening to control my senses. My breath, sharp and
shallow; my heart, its beat settling to a low, steady march,
like an army advancing into battle. A siren in the distance.
A fox wailing, its harrowing cry echoing under my prickling
Taking a deep lungful of air, my breath catches at the
taste in my mouth. Metallic. Sharp. I’ve felt this before, this
tingling on my tongue.
Carefully, deliberately, as though keeping my movements
steady will somehow slow the passing of time, I turn my
head to look. To see. My eyes have adjusted now, and I
slowly take in the details of the tableau that’s spread out
My gaze drifts from the shoes strewn carelessly in opposite
corners of my room, to the trail of clothing that lies in
motionless heaps. Clues, all pointing my way.
And me. Hands in my lap, tense, my body barely perched
on the edge of my bed. My fingers, dark and glistening.
I am naked. And covered in blood.
I make out thick, dark smears streaked across my walls,
my pillow, my stomach. My hands are shaking, dark red
droplets dripping from my fingers into a puddle on the
carpet by my feet. I try to remove myself from the pool, its
surface glistening in the glow of the street lamp beyond my
I push myself further onto the bed, and as I scrabble into
the corner, clutching the bed covers, my fingers close on
something warm and sticky. For a split second, I let my
hand linger. But I don’t turn around to look. I already know
what I’ll see.
How did things go so wrong?
I try to clear my mind, to follow the thread of events
that led to this. But it’s not a linear path. It’s convoluted. A
tangled mess that, if it was picked apart and laid out thread
by thread, would probably all end up here, anyway.
Somewhere deep in my gut, an instinct nags at me,
reminding me of what I’d rather not acknowledge. Reality
is slippery, out of reach, an ever-changing shadow. But there
are certain facts as solid as the body in my bed. They’re circling
me like predators, screaming the truths I can’t ignore,
no matter how much I’d like to.
This isn’t over, they snarl.
You started this.
And only you can finish it.
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