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The Cove by Malcolm Richards - Book Blitz

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 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.




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
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.



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