WE ARE DELIGHTED TO WELCOME BACK OUR GUEST AUTHOR, MICHELLE KIDD. TODAY MICHELLE IS SHARING AN EXCERPT FROM HER NOVEL, 'SEVEN DAYS TO DIE' #RWRTeamBlog #ReadWriteRepeat
- Eva Bielby
- 9 hours ago
- 8 min read
Extract from Seven Days to Die
(Published January 2023 by Joffe Books)
Time: 7.35 a.m.
Date: Friday 20 July 2012
Location: Southeast corner of Hyde Park, London
Had the grass been any longer, he might not have seen it.
And had the diamante buckle not caught the early morning sun, glinting lazily through the light summer dew, he might have carried on walking and missed it altogether. DI Jack MacIntosh knelt down in the ankle-deep grass at the edge of the park and parted the fronds with a gloved hand.
“Over here.” Careful not to disturb the scene, Jack straightened up and took a step backwards. The crime scene manager was already making a beeline for him, closely followed by two suited-and-booted scene-of-crime investigators. The shoe was gently lifted from its resting place on the bed of grass and slipped into a waiting evidence bag.
“Wait.” Jack motioned for the bag to be passed to him. Taking it in his still-gloved hand, he cast his eyes down on the newly found shoe. “Shit,” he muttered, the beginnings of a frown appearing on his forehead. “Shit.”
Jack returned the evidence bag and carefully retreated, allowing the scene to be secured and processed. He knew the drill — he’d been through it often enough. Making his way back across the grassy wasteland, he headed towards the small white tent which was already buzzing with white-suited bodies.
As was true of most murder scenes, the atmosphere was heavy and somewhat subdued. There was a calm, respectful silence as people quietly went about their work; whether it was out of respect for the dead or for the living, Jack was never quite sure.
“DI MacIntosh.” A tall man with a wiry frame stepped out of the tent and nodded his balding head at Jack. He unzipped his white protective suit to reveal a well-tailored light grey suit beneath, complete with waistcoat and bow tie in an oddly contrasting burnt orange. “You know how to keep a man busy on his day off.”
Jack offered a brief smile. “Can’t have you taking it easy with a boiled egg and the Daily Telegraph, can we, Doc?”
Dr Philip Matthews, the Metropolitan Police’s senior pathologist, returned the smile, his light blue eyes twinkling. “Indeed we cannot, Detective Inspector, indeed we cannot.”
Jack self-consciously rubbed a hand over his chin’s three-day stubble, trying not to notice the immaculately shaved features of the police pathologist. He gestured towards the white tent. “Anything?”
Ducking beneath both inner and outer cordon tapes, Dr Matthews headed away from the scene. Jack followed, watching the pathologist shed his protective suit as he reached his aged Volvo, parked illegally by the side of the road. At just after seven thirty on a Friday, the area was already building up with traffic; bad-tempered drivers leaning on their horns as they negotiated around the well-polished Volvo that was impeding their crawl to work.
“Just the preliminaries. You’ll get my full report tomorrow, after I’ve had a chance to look at her properly. But for the moment — white female, approximately twenty to twenty-five years of age, slim build. Well nourished. Obvious ligature marks to the neck, but I’ll need a closer look before committing myself to the cause of death.” Dr Matthews paused by the side of the Volvo, catching Jack’s gaze. “And yes, before you ask, just the one shoe on the victim.”
“Like the other one.” Jack felt the all-too-familiar clenching in the far reaches of his stomach.
“Indeed,” concurred Dr Matthews. “Just like the other one.”
With a curt nod, the pathologist slipped into the driver’s seat, no doubt heading home to Mrs Matthews to explain, once again, how his leisurely day off was to be disrupted with another urgent post-mortem.
Jack sighed and made his way back towards the tent and the surrounding hive of activity. He could do with a strong coffee . . . and, right now, a cigarette.
“Boss?” A ginger-haired officer broke away from the crowd and headed in Jack’s direction. “The crime scene manager says you found the shoe?” DS Chris Cooper raised his eyebrows expectantly at Jack.
“I found a shoe, Cooper, a shoe. But not the shoe.” Jack motioned for DS Cooper to follow him back to their car, stripping off his white protective suit as he walked. “A black stiletto type shoe. A good four-inch heel. Velvet, I think, with a diamante-style buckle.”
“But they say the victim was wearing flat shoes, boss — not heels.” DS Cooper walked round to the passenger side. “And white ones, too.”
“Indeed she was, Cooper. Indeed, she was.”
“So, if it wasn’t the victim’s shoe that you found, whose was it?”
Jack let the question hang in the air, unanswered. Slipping into the driver’s seat, he waited for Cooper to join him. Starting the engine and pulling out into the ever-building traffic, Jack wound down the window to
let in some cool morning air. “That’s the million-dollar question, Cooper. Before we try to answer it, let’s go and get a coffee. I think we’ll need it.”
*****
Time: 10.30 a.m.
Date: Friday 20 July 2012
Location: A cellar in London
With her throat feeling dry and scratchy from breathing in the musty cellar air, she thirstily gulped down the tepid, stale water. She eyed the bowl of now-soggy cereal, but not even the painful hunger pangs that
clenched her stomach could force her to eat the mushy brown lumps that had settled in the bowl. No longer snapping, crackling or popping — the sight made her feel nauseous.
Returning to the threadbare mattress, dragging the metal chain attached to her ankle in her wake, she resumed her position, hugging her knees tightly to her chest. Her body trembled.
Was anybody looking for her?
Had anybody even realised she was missing?
Surely they had to.
Surely someone would’ve realised something was wrong when she didn’t turn up to collect Hope from her day nursery.
Hope.
Fresh tears brimmed as she thought about her daughter’s wide, innocent eyes — that toothy grin and tiny button nose. Painful memories flooded her head — hearing Hope’s happy gurgles as she smiled; the sweet smell of baby shampoo in her hair.
Not that it would’ve been the first time she hadn’t shown up at nursery.
Maybe no one was looking for her after all. Maybe they all thought that she’d just done a runner.
Like the last time.
And the time before that.
She’d had her final warning from Social Services — they’d told her in no uncertain terms. No more mistakes, Hannah. You have to put Hope first. Her welfare must be your one and only priority. This is your last chance.
Your very last chance.
Even if she managed to get out of this godforsaken cellar, she was unlikely to see Hope again — she knew that. As the memory of her daughter’s face filled her head, Hannah sank down beneath the stained blanket and sobbed.
*****
Time: 11.30 a.m.
Date: Friday 20 July 2012
Location: A cellar in London
Hannah heard his footsteps descending the damp, stone cellar steps before the grating sound of the key turning in the lock, and then the heavy oak door opened. A thin chink of bright light invaded the inky blackness, but she turned her head to the side. She didn’t want to see his face.
Or his eyes.
She especially didn’t want to see his eyes.
She heard the sound of his boots scraping over the rough cellar floor as he made his way towards her. Shrinking further back into the corner, she crouched in a huddled ball on the thin mattress, hugging her knees to her chest as tightly as she could. His knees creaked as he bent down by her side, and she heard the soft rasping of his breath as he edged closer. She stiffened.
She knew what was coming next.
His touch sent rivers of ice coursing through her veins, her limbs trembling uncontrollably as she felt his fingers dance slowly along her forearms and up towards her shoulder. Fingers that were so light they barely touched her, but so terrifying they made her skin feel scorched. She could already taste the bile rising up into her throat.
“No need to be frightened, Jess.” His fingers continued to stroke her shoulder, then moved up to smooth her hair and lightly caress her tear-stained cheek.
More uncontrollable shaking and retching made her shrink back even further into the dusty corner of the cellar, cobwebs clinging to her hands as she scraped fruitlessly at the walls. She would dig her way out if she had to — through stone, through concrete, through anything — anything to get away.
“Sssshhh now, Jess.” His voice was barely more than a whisper. “Don’t be scared. I’ve brought you something to eat as you didn’t eat your breakfast. Can’t have you going hungry now, can we?”
With a rush of relief, she felt his fingers leave her skin. The sound of rustling paper and something being placed on the mattress beside her made her turn her head slightly and cautiously open one eye. He was already walking away, back towards the cellar door, leaving a sandwich in a paper bag and a bottle of water by her side.
After a few soft murmurings that Hannah couldn’t quite hear, he disappeared back up the stone steps, pulling the heavy cellar door closed behind him, the sound of the key scraping in the lock.
Hannah reached for the water bottle and drank, thirstily, not caring that water dribbled down her chin and onto her knees. She eyed the sandwich wrapper, but her stomach turned nauseously at the sight. She had no idea what time of day it was — or was it night? Time meant nothing anymore.
After draining the bottle dry, she dropped it back down onto the dusty floor, and thought — not for the first time — who was Jess?
**********
Seven Days to Die is the first book in my London based DI Jack MacIntosh crime series. It is available on Amazon https://geni.us/seven-days-die-fbt on Kindle, Kindle Unlimited and paperback. It is also available as an audiobook.
There are currently seven books in the series, with books eight, nine and ten due for publication in 2026.
Seven Days to Die
Fifteen Reasons to Kill
Sixteen Carved Pieces
Twenty Years Buried
Three Broken Bodies
The Twelfth Floor
No Red Lines
There are also two Kindle box sets available from Amazon:
Books 1-4 https://geni.us/jack-macintosh-fbt
Books 1-7 https://geni.us/di-jack-macintosh-fb
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Author Bio
Michelle Kidd is best known for the Detective Inspector Jack MacIntosh series of novels set in London, and the Detective Inspector Nicki Hardcastle series set in her current hometown of Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk. Both series are published by Joffe Books.
Michelle qualified as a lawyer in the early 1990s and spent the best part of ten years practising civil and criminal litigation. But the dream to write books was never far from her mind and in 2008 she began writing the manuscript that would become the first DI Jack MacIntosh novel. The book took eighteen months to write but spent the next ten years gathering dust underneath the bed. After publishing her first book in 2018, she now has ten published crime novels.
After finished her legal career, Michelle spent seventeen years working for the NHS before finally achieving her dream in 2025 and becoming a full-time writer. She lives in Bury St Edmunds, Suffolk and enjoys reading, wine and cats – not necessarily in that order.
Social Media links:
www.facebook.com/michellekiddauthor (Facebook)
@AuthorKidd (X)
@michellekiddauthor (Instagram)
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COMING SOON: On Sunday, 4th January, we are thrilled to welcome back, author Dawn Colclasure, who is sharing her short story from the anthology, 'The Devil's Playground'.
