Blog Tour: Perfect Death by Helen Fields @Helen_Fields @AvonBooksUK

Goodreads|Amazon US|Amazon UK

Release date: January 25, 2018

Publisher: Avon Books UK

Genre: Mystery/Thriller


There’s no easy way to die…

Unknown to DI Luc Callanach and the newly promoted DCI Ava Turner, a serial killer has Edinburgh firmly in his grip. The killer is taking his victims in the coldest, most calculating way possible – engineering slow and painful deaths by poison, with his victims entirely unaware of the drugs flooding their bloodstream until it’s too late.

But how do you catch a killer who hides in the shadows? A killer whose pleasure comes from watching pain from afar? Faced with their most difficult case yet, Callanach and Turner soon realise they face a seemingly impossible task…

Hey everyone! I’m so excited to be sharing an extract from Perfect Death today as part of the blog tour. This series has been on my TBR for far too long and 2018 will be the year I get on it.


Extract Four: Chapter 23, p.156

He got up, brushing spiders from his head, pointing the torch back towards the rear of the hut. Pushing between a couple of old ale barrels, he tried not to breathe in the foul air, wishing he’d ignored Jones’ request and brought backup. As he avoided an old badger trap, his foot landed on something that managed to be both soft and crunchy at once. He shone the light downwards as he stepped back. The fingers on which he’d trodden curled inwards. Callanach knelt down, shining the light up and down the torso, knowing that it was too late. The bodies of the living didn’t generally smell like this. Jones has lost control of his bowels, bladder too from the looks of the floor. Laying down the torch and taking a knife from his pocket, he cut through the gaffer tape that had been sealed around Jones’ neck and removed a bag from the head.

‘Louis?’ Callanach said, tapping his cheek lightly. Something felt wrong. Jones’ face, whilst warm, wasn’t moving the way he expected it to. The lower half was stiff and inflexible. Holding the torch in his mouth, Callanach got a better look. As he slid one hand beneath Jones’ head, his fingers plunged into a warm wet mess, stringy to touch with boney splinters in the mix. ‘Fuck!’ He pulled his hand back out, watching the grey red mixture slide off his fingertips. Louis Jones was dead, and no amount of resuscitation was going to make any difference. His brains were currently decorating a wide section of the floor, the entrance wound a neat black hole on his forehead. Flashing the light slightly downwards, Callanach took a closer look at Jones’ mouth. His bottom lip had been pulled upwards over the top lip and a nail gun had been used to send an industrial pin into his upper palate.

Oohh that’s so creepy!! Just my style haha.

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