Black Widow

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…

Someone is killing and mutilating young men in Amsterdam – the murders are brutal, sexual, and ritualized. For detective Joyce Pino, after a succession of failures, this is the perfect case to get her back on track.

But as it becomes clear the murderer is a middle-aged woman, the case shifts uncomfortably close to home. Some of the victims are associates, and a criminal profiler and external agencies are beginning to point the finger at Joyce herself. Added to this, she has a new rookie partner who’s far too handsome and clever for his own good.

Detective Pino needs to keep a grip on the investigation long enough to find the killer.

Black Widow

Isadora Bryan

Copyright

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2015

Copyright © Isadora Bryan 2015

Isadora Bryan asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © April 2015 ISBN: 9781474032810

Version date: 2018-07-02

ISADORA BRYAN

worked as a teacher in several European countries before settling in Spain with her partner.

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Title Page

Copyright

Author Bio

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Epilogue

Excerpt

Endpages

About the Publisher

Prologue

Wednesday Evening

She’d been watching him since he entered five minutes before. He was a youngish man, maybe late twenties. Perfect.

At the bar, he put a cigarette to his mouth, then made a show of looking for his lighter. She missed nothing; she’d already seen him put a Zippo in his top pocket, but didn’t pass comment as he strode over to her table.

She offered him her lighter. He lit his cigarette without a word of thanks, then sat down beside her. His cheekbones were sharp beneath a layer of stubble. She wondered if this was a stylistic affectation, or just a consequence of laziness. She didn’t pay it much heed; she was more taken with his eyes, which were unequivocally blue.

‘My name is Mikael,’ he said.

‘Hester.’

‘You have been watching me.’

‘Have I?’

‘You know it.’

‘Maybe it was more that I was staring into space,’ she suggested languidly, ‘and you just happened to be occupying the space I was staring into.’

Mikael took a deeper drag on his cigarette. He made as if to stand. ‘Hey, you know what? I don’t much like playing games.’

The woman placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. She felt the strength in him, that uniquely masculine hardness. He was no different to his hunter-gatherer forefathers, genetically speaking: built to kill, and impregnate, and not much else. It made her feel sick.

She refocused. ‘I love playing games.’

Her fingers traced the line of his arm, to his belt, then his thigh. ‘How old are you, Mikael?’

‘Twenty-seven.’

The woman who called herself Hester was twenty years older, roughly. But that was all right; that was what they came here for, the young ones.

She could feel the thump of blood in her temple, which desperately needed letting. ‘So where’s your girlfriend this evening?’

He shrugged and, to his credit, made no attempt to deny that such a person existed. ‘On stage, would you believe. A Doll’s House, I think it’s called. You heard of it?’

‘Yes,’ the woman answered. ‘The first feminist play, as it is sometimes known. Of course, Ibsen always denied it.’

‘Well, aren’t you the clever one!’

The woman looked at him for a long moment, and in that moment, they both understood there was no need for further manoeuvring. She swept a strand of blonde hair from her brow and leant closer. Her heart was racing, but she was in control.

‘Then perhaps we should find a room,’ she said. ‘And I will show you just how clever I am.’