Dead Scared

by Bolton, Sharon; Bolton, S. J.

• ISBN13: 9780312600532
• ISBN10: 0312600534
• Format: Hardcover
• Copyright: 2012-06-05
• Publisher: Minotaur Books

Summary

London Police officer Lacey Flint must go deep undercover to stop whoever is preying on Cambridge students in the sequel to S. J. Bolton's widely acclaimed Now You See Me When a rash of suicides tears through Cambridge University, DI Mark Joesbury recruits DC Lacey Flint to go undercover as a student to investigate the suspicious deaths. Given the circumstances, no one is convinced that the victims acted alone. They believe that someone is preying on lonely and insecure students and either encouraging them to take their own lives or actually luring them to their deaths. So long as Lacey can play the role of a vulnerable young woman, she may be able to stop these deaths, but is it just a role? With a past as fragile as hers is she drawing out the killers or is she getting drawn into a deadly game where she is a perfect victim? Dark and compelling, S. J. Bolton's latest thrillera follow-up to Now You See Meis another work of brilliant psychological suspense that plumbs the most sinister depths.

Author Biography

S. J. BOLTON is a Mary Higgins Clark Award winner and an ITW Thriller Award, CWA Gold Dagger and Barry Award nominee.

Table of Contents

Praise for Dead Scared

“Outstanding. . .Bolton never eases up the tension; her tightly coiled plot and heroine on the edge work perfectly in tandem.”
—Publishers Weekly (starred review, Pick of the Week)

“A number of superlatives could be used to describe Bolton’s new work, but a simple “wow!” will do. After reading the last sentence, I realized I had been holding my breath during the final page or two. Yes, the ending is that gripping. The story’s atmosphere is dark and spooky, the main characters are strong yet vulnerable and the plot is refreshingly unpredictable. This stunning psychological thriller is well worth your time. You’ll be hooked from page one.”
—RT Book Reviews (4½ Stars, Top Pick)

“Credible characters, an evocative setting, and a chilling group of clever sadists make the latest from Bolton a satisfying and suspenseful read.”
—Booklist

Praise for Now You See Me

“S. J. Bolton is changing the face of crime fiction—if you only read one crime novel this year, make it this.”
—Tess Gerritsen

“Now You See Me is really special: multi-layered and sophisticated, but tough too.”
—Lee Child

“Bolton provides excruciating tension and much else. Romantics can drool over Jonesbury’s turquoise eyes; amateur psychologists can mull Lacey’s one-nighters; and Ripperologists can ponder theories of Jack’s real identity, one of which helps tie up the plot.”
―Kirkus Reviews (starred review, One of the Best Mysteries of 2011)

“The twists keep coming, and the truth is not revealed until the final page in Bolton’s best novel yet.”
―Library Journal (starred review)

“Nice atmosphere and good Ripper lore.”
—Booklist

“Bolton's fourth thriller, a complex psychological puzzler, stands head and shoulders above other such efforts featuring a modern copycat Jack the Ripper. . .Bolton skillfully plays with the reader's expectations.”
―Publishers Weekly (starred review)

“Excellent. . .Now You See Me is a cerebral thriller that avoids clichés. Each twist and turn is unpredictable as are the fully drawn characters' actions.”
—Oline H. Cogdill, South Florida Sun-Sentinel

Excerpts

Dead Scared

1

Friday 11 January (eleven days earlier)

 

ALL BAR ONE NEAR WATERLOO STATION WAS BUSY, WITH nearly a hundred people shouting to make themselves heard above the music. Smoking has been banned in the UK's public places for years but something seemed to be hovering around these folk, thickening the air, turning the scene around me into an out-of-focus photograph taken on a cheap camera.

I knew instinctively he wasn't there.

No need to look at my watch to know I was sixteen minutes late. I'd timed it to the second. Too late would look rude, or as if I were trying to make a point; too close to the agreed time would seem eager. Calm and professional, that's what I was going to be. A little distant. Being a bit late was part of that. Except now he was the one who was late.

At the bar, I ordered my usual drink-for-difficult-occasions and stretched up on to a vacant bar stool. Sipping the colourless liquid, I could see my reflection in the mirrors behind the bar. I'd come straight from work. Somehow, I'd resisted the temptation to leave early and spend the better part of two hours showering, blow-drying my hair, putting on make-up and choosing clothes. I'd been determined not to look nice for Mark Joesbury.

I fished my laptop out of my bag and put it down on the bar -not actually planning to work, just to make it look that way - and opened a presentation on the UK's laws on pornography that I was due to give the following week to a group of new recruits at Hendon. I opened a slide at random - the Criminal Justice and Immigration Act. The recruits would be surprised to learn, because most people were, that possession of all non-child pornography was perfectly legal in the UK until the 2008 Act outlawed extreme pornographic images. Naturally, they'd want to know what qualified as extreme. Hence the main content of the slide I was looking at.

An extreme pornographic image depicts a sexual act that:

•threatens, or appears to threaten, a person's life.

•results in serous injury to sexual organs.

•involves a human corpse.

•involves an animal

I changed a spelling mistake in the second bullet point and added a full stop to the fourth.

Joesbury hadn't arrived. Not that I'd looked round. I would know the minute he walked through the door.

Twenty-four hours earlier I'd had a five-minute briefing with my DI at Southwark Police Station. SCD10, still colloquially known by everyone as SO10, the special crimes directorate of the Metropolitan Police that deals with covert operations, had requested my help with a case. Not just any young female detective constable but me specifically, and the lead officer on the case, DI Mark Joesbury, would meet me the following evening. 'What case?' I'd asked. DI Joesbury would fill me in, I was told. My DI had been tight-lipped and grumpy, probably on account of having his staff filched without being told why.

I checked my watch again. He was twenty-three minutes late, my drink was disappearing too quickly and at half past I was going home.

I couldn't even remember what he looked like, I realized. Oh, I had a vague idea of height, build and colouring, and I remembered those turquoise eyes, but I couldn't conjure up a picture of his face. Which was odd, really, given that he was never out of my head for a second.

'Lacey Flint, as I live and breathe,' said a voice directly behind me.

I took a deep breath and turned round slowly, to see Mark Joesbury, maybe just a fraction over six feet tall, strongly built, suntanned skin even in January, bright turquoise eyes. Wearing a thick, untidy, ginger wig.

'I'm undercover,' he said. And then he winked at me.

DEAD SCARED. Copyright © 2012 by S. J. Bolton. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.