The Cove by Malcolm Richards - Book Blitz
Synopsis
Carrie thought her son was dead. She was wrong.
She’d only taken her eyes off him
for a second. But that was all it took for a perfect day at the beach to turn
to horror. Cal disappeared beneath the waves. His body was never found.
Seven years later, Carrie has a
new family. But her life in the sleepy Cornish town of Devil's Cove is about to
be torn apart again. A boy washes up on the shore. The cove’s residents believe
it's missing local child Noah Pengelly.
It’s not. It's Carrie's son. And
he's alive.
Now a teenager, Cal is covered in
scars and suffering from unknown trauma. Where has he been these last seven
years? Is he the key to finding young Noah alive? Carrie is desperate for
answers but there's a problem. Cal cannot speak.
As a disturbing chain of events is
set in motion, Carrie and the people of Devil’s Cove will discover that the
horrifying truth lies closer to home than they think.
A dark and suspenseful
page-turner set on the rugged coast of Cornwall, The Cove is the first book of
a gripping new trilogy that will you shake you to the core.
THE COVE WILL BE
RELEASED IN eBOOK & PAPERBACK FORMATS ON 14th NOVEMBER, 2017
PRE-ORDER
AVAILABLE NOW
STORE LINKS:
Excerpt
Two uniformed
police officers, one male, one female, appeared from the left. They stopped
outside the shop door. Carrie watched as the female officer knocked on the
glass.
Her first thought was that
something terrible had happened to her family. But she had only left them a
couple of hours ago; Dylan sleeping, Melissa playing happily in her bedroom.
Now, the female officer was
trying the door and finding it locked. The male officer stared at Carrie and
mouthed something.
Slowly, Carrie moved to the
door.
This had to be about the boy
Margaret had found on the beach. It was poor little Noah. He was dead. But why
were the police here and not up at the Pengellys’ house?
Turning the key, she
unlocked the door and pulled it open.
The male officer spoke
first. “Carrie Killigrew?”
Carrie’s voice was a
whisper. “Yes.”
“I’m PC Thomas. This is PC
Matthews. May we come in?”
The
police officers waited for Carrie to step aside. But she was rooted to the
spot. Across the square, Mabel and Jack were watching with hawk-like attention.
“What’s this about?” she
said, keeping her eyes on the elderly pair.
“Please,” PC Matthews said, her
voice soft and steady. “It would be better if we could come inside.”
Something was wrong. She could
feel it in the air, in her blood. This wasn’t about the boy. This was about
something else.
Carrie stepped aside and let
the police officers in.
“Is there somewhere we could sit
down?” PC Thomas asked, looking around.
Oh God. Carrie swallowed, suddenly thirsty. She nodded and led the
officers through the shop and out to the yard. She indicated the picnic table,
noticed the cigarettes sticking out of her bag and quickly pushed them inside.
The police officers stared
at the picnic bench, before glancing at each other.
They sat down on one side,
awkwardly tucking their legs underneath the table.
Carrie sat on the other side,
staring from one police officer to the other, trying to read their expressions
as she fought to control a wave of panic.
There was a moment of silence
that seemed to last an hour. Carrie held her breath. She squeezed her fingers
beneath her thighs.
“Mrs Killigrew, you may have
heard by now about the incident on the beach earlier this morning,” PC Thomas
said.
Carrie nodded. Her thoughts
turned to her friend, Tess, and guilt dragged at her insides.
“Please call me Carrie,” she
said. “And yes, news travels fast around here. I heard Margaret Telford found
someone. A boy. They’re saying it’s Noah
Pengelly.”
A look passed between the
police officers but Carrie could not read it.
PC Matthews spoke next. “Mrs
Killigrew, we –”
“It’s Carrie.”
“Carrie… Mrs Telford did
discover a boy on the beach this morning.”
“Oh God, poor Noah. Is he…” She
couldn’t say it. To say it would make it true. Noah was just four years old.
The same age as her daughter, Melissa. They were in the same class together,
just like their mothers had been thirty years ago. They played together.
Sometimes Noah would come for a sleepover.
“Mrs… Carrie…” PC Matthews
was struggling to find the right words.
“The boy on the beach, he
was… The boy who was found isn’t Noah Pengelly.”
Carrie’s mind swayed with
confusion. Her gaze swung between the police officers.
“Then
who was it?”
PC Thomas leaned forward.
“Are you able to come with us?”
Carrie stared at him. “Why?
What for? What’s going on?”
PC Thomas flashed another strange
look at PC Matthews, who took in a deep breath and exhaled.
“Carrie, I’m not sure how to tell
you this,” she said. “But we believe the boy who was found on the beach this
morning is your son, Callum.”
It was as if an invisible fist
had punched Carrie in the chest; she couldn’t breathe. Her entire body flinched
and began to tremble.
“What the hell are you talking
about?” she whispered, when she managed to regain control of her airways.
“Your son, Callum,” PC Thomas
said. “We believe he is the boy who was found on the beach this morning. We’d
like you to come with us to make a
formal identification.”
Any confusion Carrie felt was
washed away with anger. Her jaw tensed. Her teeth mashed together, making it
difficult to speak.
“You’re mistaken,” she said
in a low voice.
A thick, heavy silence fell and
it smothered the small yard. The walls seemed to close in, to grow taller.
Inside Carrie’s head, thoughts
smashed into each other. Her stomach churned; she was going to be sick.
PC Matthews leaned further
forward until Carrie could feel her breath on her face. When she spoke, her
voice was extraordinarily calm.
“Carrie, we have reason to
believe this is your son, Callum
Anderson. I know it must come as a shock, that it must be difficult to believe,
but we would really like it if you could come and –”
Carrie leapt up from the
table. Her skin was on fire.
“Why are you doing this?” she shrieked. “My son is
dead. He’s been gone for seven years. You’ve made a terrible mistake.” The
police officers remained seated.
“Carrie,” PC Matthews said
calmly. “Seven years ago, your son was reported missing. There was an extensive
search. No body was ever discovered.”
“Jesus Christ, I know what
happened!” Carrie spat. “I was there. We never found him because he drowned. He
was washed out to sea. He’s dead.”
PC Matthews shook her head.
“Carrie, the boy who was found on the beach this morning is very much alive.
We’re confident it’s your son. Please. Let us take you to him so you can see
for yourself.”
She
could feel tears spilling down her face. She could hear the thud of her
heartbeat repeating in her ears. Without warning, a peal of laughter escaped
her mouth.
“My boy is dead,” Carrie
said.
The yard slipped away. Time
ceased to exist. Carrie’s legs quaked beneath her. A hundred memories of her
son flashed before her eyes.
She pressed a hand against the
wall to steady herself. Slowly, she shook her head.
“My boy is dead,” she
whispered.
But a flicker of hope had
ignited inside her stomach.
Copyright
© 2017 Malcolm Richards. All Rights Reserved.
Author Bio
British author
Malcolm Richards was born in Cornwall. His character-driven mysteries and
thrillers feature ordinary people thrown into extraordinary circumstances. He
is the author of the Emily Swanson series, in which the titular sleuth solves
shocking crimes while battling an anxiety disorder, and the upcoming Cove
trilogy, in which a small Cornish town experiences a series of disturbing
events following the return of a missing boy.
Malcolm has a
degree in Creative Writing, but has also worked for several years in the fields
of special educational needs and children's mental health. He currently lives
in London, England, with his partner, a cat called Sukey, and a fish called
Freddy Krueger.
CONTACT &
SOCIAL MEDIA
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MRichardsAuthor
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/malcolmjrichards
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