No Place to Run

A deadly family secret. A murdered TV star. And Anna Felby may be next.

Anna Felby escaped her wealthy, toxic family for a quieter life in the countryside. But when she discovers her famous aunt Geraldine murdered in her vegetable garden, the past she tried to leave behind comes crashing back.

With the press circling and her estranged family closing ranks, Anna reluctantly joins forces with persistent journalist Harry Nichols. He knows more about Geraldine—and the family business—than Anna ever did. And what he uncovers suggests her aunt’s death was no random killing.

Now someone seems determined to silence Anna too. To stay alive, she and Harry must uncover who killed Geraldine, what the family is hiding, and why those secrets are worth murdering for.

A witty, fast-moving psychological thriller packed with dark family secrets, danger and a breathtaking twist.

Discover Anna Felby’s deadly family mystery today.

Excerpt from the book

I never liked my aunt Geraldine but I objected to her being murdered. Especially on my patch. I never wanted her anywhere near me at all. Alive, she was raucous, opinionated and quintessentially insensitive. Dead, she was intruding massively on my peace. My little farm was my sanctuary, my safe place. Finding her on her back with a knife sticking out of her chest, stone cold and rigid, was an unforgivable intrusion.

It was Lara, my maremma guard dog, who alerted me that something was amiss. As we trundled back from my boundary on the tractor she jumped down and disappeared into the vegetable garden. In the twilight’s gloom I could see her sniffing at a large dark shape and followed her in. Any strange shape amongst my vegetables had to be checked out.

The shape was poor Geraldine. She’d have been appalled by Lara sniffing at her. She hated animals. Smelly dirty creatures, she always said at our rare family gatherings. The last time I saw her she gave me an especially hard look. Granted, I carried a lot of cat, dog and llama hair on me but I did shower most days.

Reality didn’t matter much to Geraldine. Her very popular television show touted all kinds of spurious health products, most without a shred of scientific evidence to support their claims. Things like instant cures for things like excessive body hair for women or not enough for men. For deodorants that lasted a week, and herbal facelifts for the over eighties. You get the drift.

As I looked down at her body lying in my kale I wondered if maybe someone was so angry at the failure of one of her specials that they took to violence as revenge. But I couldn’t believe anybody would murder someone over a cream that failed to remove jowls. The whole thing was surreal.

It wasn’t until Rosa, my bossiest llama, nudged me in the back that I came back to reality. I had a corpse in my garden. The police had to be called. My stomach crawled up my gullet. Would they think I killed her? Of course not. Dislike isn’t a motive. I took off my jacket and draped it over her. With her face and accusing eyes out of sight it was much easier to divorce myself from any humanity she may have had. Aunt Geraldine became simply a dead body.

I gathered Lara up and tapped Rosa on the nose. She gave me a foul look and stalked away like an offended Grand Duchess. Back at the house I called the local police who told me to disturb nothing, they’d be there soon. As if I hadn’t seen twenty years of cop shows on TV.