Bound (4) (Sam Shephard)

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.\nPrologue\nThe image of the clock's hands burned into her retinas as she stared, willing her eyes to stay focused, there, on that spot. Above the sound of the blood pulsing through her ears, she could just make out the sharp click of its ticks, as the second hand laboured around the circumference of the dial.\nDon't look, she thought. For Christ's sake, you can't look.\nHer eyes stayed fixed on the clock.\nHe'll be home soon, please let him be home soon, she thought. Don't be late. Not tonight.\nBut what her eyes could avoid, her nose could smell; the wet, hot, metallic scent of blood, overpowering the sharp chemical tang of the adhesive on the tape slashed across her mouth. She closed her eyes, the photographic negative of the clock dancing in the darkness, but it was as pointless as resisting gravity.\nThey opened, their focus drawn to the inevitable.\nShe took in the ruined shell that had been John, the mangled mess that had been his face, now just dripping meat, bone and brain. She felt the spasm clench her stomach at the sight, the smell, and she started repeating the mantra in her head, You vomit, you die, you vomit, you die. She tried to take deep, even breaths.\nThink of Declan, he's already lost one parent tonight, don't let it be two.\nShe slammed her eyes shut, concentrated on breathing, on forcing away the nausea. But while she could fight the nausea, she couldn't fight the tears, and as the sobs wracked her body, she began to realise that deep breathing was becoming more difficult. She strained against the ropes that bound her arms and feet to the chair, but nothing could stop the wave of panic that hit as she realised her nose was getting stuffier, and the more she panicked, the more she cried and the more she cried, the less she could breathe until she couldn't pull in any air and she felt a band of steel tightening around her chest.\nShe pulled against her bonds, but nothing. She twisted. She pushed. Her body fought for air and with desperation she shoved against the floor with her feet. As the chair tipped backwards, the last thing her eyes found was the clock, its second hand ticking away her life, before a white-hot flare of pain, and then darkness.\nWhen the official investigation into the murder of a respectable local businessman fails to add up, and personal problems start to play havoc with her state of mind, New Zealand’s favourite young detective Sam Shephard turns vigilante…\n‘Fast-moving New Zealand procedural … the Edinburgh of the south has never been more deadly’ Ian Rankin\n'If you like taut, pacy thrillers with a wonderful sense of place, this is the book for you’ Liam McIlvanney\n‘A sassy heroine, fabulous sense of place, and rip-roaring stories with a twist. Perfect curl-up-on-the-sofa reading’ Kate Mosse\n________________\nThe New Zealand city of Dunedin is rocked when a wealthy and apparently respectable businessman is murdered in his luxurious home while his wife is bound and gagged, and forced to watch. But when Detective Sam Shephard and her team start investigating the case, they discover that the victim had links with some dubious characters.\nThe case seems cut and dried, but Sam has other ideas. Weighed down by her dad’s terminal cancer diagnosis, and by complications in her relationship with Paul, she needs a distraction, and launches her own investigation. And when another murder throws the official case into chaos, it’s up to Sam to prove that the killer is someone no one could ever suspect…\n________________\nPraise for the Sam Shephard series\n‘Vanda Symon’s work resembles Janet Evanovich’s Stephanie Plum series … she knows how to tell a good story and the NZ setting adds spice’ The Times\n‘Atmospheric, emotional and gripping’ Foreword Reviews\n‘A plot that grabs the reader’s attention with a heart-stopping opening and doesn’t let go’ Sunday Times\n‘Powerful, coolly assured, and an absolute belter of a