Fire Damage: A gripping thriller that will keep you hooked
To find a killer, she must unlock a child’s terror…The first in an exciting new crime series featuring psychologist Dr Jessie Flynn – a brilliantly complex character who struggles with a dark past of her own. Perfect for fans of Nicci French and Val McDermid.A traumatized little boyFour years old, terrified, disturbed – Sami is a child in need of help. Now it’s up to psychologist Dr Jessie Flynn to find the cause of his suffering and unlock his darkest memories, before it’s too late.A psychologist with a secretMeanwhile Jessie is haunted by an awful truth of her own. She works alongside former patient, Captain Ben Callan, to investigate a violent death – but the ghosts of her past refuse to leave her.A body washed up on the beachWhen a burnt corpse is found on the Sussex coast, Jessie begins to uncover a link between her two cases – and a desperate killer will do anything to keep it buried…
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KATE MEDINA
Fire Damage
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2016
Copyright © Kate Medina 2016
Cover design by Dominic Forbes © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017
Cover photograph © Ashraful Arefin/Arcangel Images
Kate Medina 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
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, down-loaded, 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-books
Ebook Edition © MARCH 2016 ISBN: 9780008132309
Source ISBN 9780008132279
Version 2018-02-13
Table of Contents
The little boy inched through the doorway, arms and legs jerking like a marionette. Stopping just inside, he scanned the room with frightened eyes. In his hands, he gripped a torch. A huge, black metal Maglite, which swung slowly back and forth in front of him as if he was feeling his way through darkness. The beam traced along the walls, was swallowed for a moment by the sharp winter light cutting in through the sash window. It scoured each corner, drifted over the furniture, stopping to inspect the alcove under Jessieâs desk, the corner where the filing cabinet housing her psychology books and journals cast shadow.
Kneeling down so that her face was level with his, but maintaining her distance, avoiding direct eye contact, Jessie smiled.
âHello, Sami. Iâm Jessie Flynn,â she said softly.
She had dressed in civvies this morning, a denim skirt, long-sleeved white shirt and simple, navy patent leather ballet pumps, ubiquitous clothes that communicated nothing about her, made no statement.
The little boy remained silent. He continued to rotate the torch, eyes twitching from side to side, nervously tracking its beam. Standing, Jessie stepped forward to close the door.
Sami shot back against the wall, his expression rigid with fear. A sob burst from his lips. Swinging the torch wildly, he made a harsh, throbbing noise deep in his throat, like the growl of a terrified dog.
Jessie moved away, hands spread calmingly.
âIâm sorry if I scared you, Sami. I didnât mean to.â She sat down slowly in one of the two leather armchairs by the window. âI wonât move from here. You explore my office. Take as long as you like.â
He remained where he was, pressed against the wall, ramrod straight. His chest hollowed and heaved from the effort of drawing in breath. Jessie stayed silent, waiting. Gradually, he moved from the wall, the heavy torch hugged close to his body like a loved teddy bear. One step. Another. The movements jerky, uncoordinated. His face, hauntingly pale, began to take on colour.
The torchâs beam reflected off the patent leather of Jessieâs ballet pumps, was dull on the denim of her skirt, tinged the white of her shirt citrus. The beam found her face. She smiled, compelled herself not to blink. Knew that beyond the light that fuzzed her vision, Sami was watching her intently, obsessively focused on every cue.
The torch dipped. Jessie raised her eyes, and for a fraction of a second their gazes met.
âThe girl knows,â he whispered.
Samiâs breath came fast and shallow; Jessie could feel it, hot and cold, damp against her cheek. Then came the soft touch of his fingers.
âGrrrrr. Grrrrr.â
That growling noise again, from the back of his throat. She sat completely motionless, staring ahead, making no sound. With lightning quickness, his fingers touched her neck and were gone. Jessie forced herself not to flinch. She could sense him only millimetres from her, the heat of the torch beam mapping a circle on her skin.
