It's the second day of the
Perfect Death blog tour by Helen Fields and I have a chilling first chapter to share with you.
extract
Chapter One
Sliding the box back beneath the drawer space, he ran through the details once more in his head. His car was ready. All the lights were working – no point attracting attention from the police over
something as ridiculous as a blown bulb. Everything had been handled with gloves. All his supplies. There wasn’t one item touched freely. He’d watched enough true crime television to know that these days fingerprints weren’t the issue. Skin cells could leave enough DNA to make a case against him. He didn’t want to get caught. There was so much to do. So many more people that needed his attention.
All ready. He could even afford the time for a nap. Better not to be tired given all he had to do. Not just the physical aspects. Killing was hard work. Anyone who believed a human being perished in the few seconds portrayed in TV crime dramas was an idiot. Death, more often than not, was a slow striptease of a show. There were ways it could be done fast – gunshot, explosion, massive head trauma – but hands on, it inevitably took longer. Suffocation and drowning were the real time-heavy activities, and chances were that you’d end up injured yourself. Scratches, groin kicks, broken bones. He’d had enough of that.
Lying back on his bed, he closed his eyes. The anticipation was all a part of it. Rushing to the end point was like reading the final chapter of a book first. It was the build-up, the investment in the characters, that made the pay-off so thrilling. In the past he’d struggled to find the ideal victims, and now three had come along at once. He laughed. It was a brutal choke of a noise that exploded in the air like a firecracker. It was a cruel sound, but he wasn’t a cruel man. Not unnecessarily. Only when cruelty was absolutely required.
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