Thanks to Olivia at Midas PR for the opportunity to be a part of the virtual book tour for The Last Girl to Die. This time around I didn’t connect with the book as much as I have with Helen’s previous releases. So I am featuring a snippet of the book for you to enjoy.
The Last Girl to Die by Helen Fields
In search of a new life, seventeen-year-old Adriana Clark’s family moves to the ancient, ocean-battered Isle of Mull, far off the coast of Scotland. Then she goes missing. Faced with hostile locals and indifferent police, her desperate parents turn to private investigator Sadie Levesque.
Sadie is the best at what she does. But when she finds Adriana’s body in a cliffside cave, a seaweed crown carefully arranged on her head, she knows she’s dealing with something she’s never encountered before.
The deeper she digs into the island’s secrets, the closer danger creeps – and the more urgent her quest to find the killer grows. Because what if Adriana is not the last girl to die?
Snippet of The Last Girl to Die
The hammering on my door began at 2 a.m. Having taken several whiskies to get me to sleep, it also took me some time to wake up. ‘All right,’ I shouted. ‘Wait a minute, eh?’ I threw on jeans and a hoodie before engaging the safety chain and peering out into the corridor. Sergeant Eggo, face like thunder, was positioned, hands on hips, waiting for me. ‘What’s up?’ ‘Catriona Vass is missing,’ he said. ‘We need to talk.’ I opened the door fully and let him in. ‘What can I do?’ I asked. ‘Nothing. I want you to do absolutely nothing. What I want to know is why you were at her house earlier today.’ ‘Are you serious? Am I being questioned?’ ‘You’re damned right I’m serious. Her father didn’t see her this morning because he was on the boat early and didn’t want to disturb her as he left. She didn’t come home this evening and no one can get in touch with her. There are search parties out looking for her now but we don’t even know exactly how long she’s been missing.’ It occurred to me for the first time that maybe Skittles had recognised some of the girls as they’d run away, and that maybe he hadn’t phoned the police because he was intending to deal with it himself. ‘I don’t want anyone to get in trouble,’ I said. ‘Promise me they won’t.’ ‘I’m not promising you a bloody thing. Tell me what you know immediately or I’ll find something to charge you with, and the Clarks will just have to get themselves a new investigator.’ Sadly this time, Harris Eggo was completely in the right. ‘Catriona was in Skittles’ shop last night. Not alone, she was with friends. I disturbed them so they fled, smashing something as they ran. Skittles came down and chased them but didn’t actually catch them or stop them. He obviously decided not to report it to the police at the time, just swept up the broken item and locked the shop door. That’s how I came to get locked in. I went to Catriona’s house today to talk to her about it.’ ‘F*ck’s sake,’ Eggo sighed. ‘You didn’t think to mention it to me when I saw you earlier?’ ‘I had no way of knowing Catriona was missing then. I didn’t think it was relevant.’ ‘And that’s it?’ he asked. ‘That’s it,’ I said. If I’d been superstitious I’d have had my fingers crossed behind my back. ‘Stay here,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you leaving the hotel. Things out there are fraught enough already. You seem to be bringing nothing but bad luck to the island.’ ‘Bringing bad luck? I came here because a girl was already missing. The fact that I’m the one who found her wasn’t bad luck, sergeant, it was proper investigating, and while we’re talking about that do you want to explain why you did virtually nothing the whole time Adriana Clark was missing, but a local girl doesn’t answer her phone for a day and suddenly you’ve mobilised the whole town?’ ‘Just what are you accusing me of?’
‘I don’t know, sergeant, what are you guilty of? A bit of racism, maybe? Was it the fact that she was American that made her less of a priority? Or maybe the fact that Adriana was Latina? Perhaps just the fact that she was an off-islander was enough for you not to care as much.’ ‘You’re out of order,’ he shouted. ‘Get out of my room,’ I said. ‘You’ve got no right to be in here yelling at me.’ ‘It’s my island,’ he said, his voice low now, and threatening. ‘Stay the f*ck away from my people. You’re cursed.’ He walked out slamming the door and I heard other doors in the corridor close slowly afterwards. Apparently, we’d woken up the whole place, and everyone had taken the opportunity to listen in. It took me about thirty seconds to realise the seriousness of my omissions, in which time I’d managed to assess both my moral obligations, my professional duties and the legal responsibility I might bear if I didn’t right the situation immediately. I found my behaviour wanting. Racing to the stairwell, I took the steps two at a time, sprinting at the bottom through reception, out of the main doors and into the gardens. No sign of Eggo. Towards the car park along a gravel path where, too late, I realised I hadn’t bothered with trainers. In the car park a single vehicle was pulling away, headlights blazing. Jumping for the car, I hit the bonnet as it swung past me, connecting with it harder than I’d intended. Eggo slammed on his brakes and threw open his door. ‘You’re under arrest—’
The Virtual Book Tour
Download Our Free Kit for Authors
In the name of full transparency, please be aware that this blog
contains affiliate links and any purchases made through such links will result in a small commission for us (at no extra cost for you).