A Whisper of Sorrows by J.D. Kirk (DCI Logan Crime Thrillers #6)

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TITLE : A Whisper of Sorrows (DCI Logan Crime Thrillers #6)

YEAR : 2020


PAGES : 286


FILE DETAILS : English | Mystery & Thriller | ePUB | 0.480 KB

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JD Kirk lives in the Highlands of Scotland with his wife, two children, and a number of sturdy umbrellas. Despite writing from a young age, ‘A Litter of Bones’ is his first novel, and combines his love of the Highlands, crime thrillers, and cats.

The hunter has become the hunted.
Ten years ago, DCI Jack Logan caught the twisted child killer known as Mister Whisper.
Two days ago, Mister Whisper escaped.
Now, Jack must track down the most ruthless enemy he has ever faced before he can strike again. But, after ten years behind bars, it isn’t just murder that Mister Whisper has in mind.
It’s revenge.

The room was most notable for its missing bastard.

At least, to DCI Jack Logan it was. To anyone else, the most comment-worthy aspect of the room would likely be the tape outline across the threshold of the door, marking the shape of a person.

Or, perhaps it would be the stain on the floor, once red, now dried to a shade of rusty brown, or the similarly coloured spattering across the walls on either side.

If someone was looking very closely, the thing they passed remark on might be the missing leg of the chair, the rigid plastic sheared off at an angle to create a long sliver of a point.

Logan had noticed all of that. Of course, he had.

But it was the missing bastard that disturbed him most.

“You alright, Jack?”

Detective Superintendent Hoon’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. It was also the longest sentence Logan had heard the man say without swearing, which spoke volumes about the gravity of the situation.

“No. No, I am not,” Logan muttered. His eyes went from the tape, to the bloodstains, to the broken chair. Finally, it swung a right and stopped on the unmade bed that the room’s former occupant had slept in for most of the last decade. A gush of blood had stained the clinical white sheets down near the foot of the bed, but it was the man-sized indent in the mattress that Jack focused on.

He glared at that imprint. Glowered at it, like he could summon the bastard back through sheer bloody force of will. He couldn’t, of course. Not like that. But he would get him back.

One way, or another.

“Talk me through it again,” Logan said, turning away from the bed and addressing the man standing out in the corridor.

DCI Samuel Grant—Snecky to pretty much everyone who knew him—had been stationed in Inverness until Logan had requested a transfer earlier in the year. Snecky had been quick to jump on it, believing he was destined for the Central Belt Big Time, despite having predominantly attained his rank by showing up often enough, as opposed to through any sort of actual aptitude.

He looked thinner than he had when Logan had last crossed paths with him. It had been nine or ten months since then, but Snecky had lost some of the excess weight he was carrying, and his already-receding hairline had started to beat an even hastier retreat.


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