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The Echo Killing: A gripping debut crime thriller you won’t be able to put down!
Christi Daugherty
The most exciting new crime voice you’ll read this year!Fifteen years ago her mother’s killer got away. Has he finally struck again?MURDER SHOCKS PEACEFUL NEIGHBOURHOODA woman in her thirties. Found naked and stabbed on the kitchen floor. Discovered by her twelve-year-old daughter after school.As top Savannah crime reporter Harper McClain stares at the horrific scene before her, one thought screams through her mind. This murder is identical to another murder she has witnessed. Her mother’s murder…For fifteen years, Harper has been torn apart by the knowledge that her mother’s killer is walking free. And now, it seems he’s struck again. There are no fingerprints. No footprints. No DNA. Yet still, Harper is determined to discover the truth once and for all.But that search will come at a cost…and it could be one she isn’t ready to pay.
Copyright (#ulink_50e95bab-a904-5681-8414-68939179f7c9)
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2018
Copyright © Christi Daugherty 2018
Cover design by Holly Macdonald © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018
Cover photographs © Richard Ellis/Alamy Stock Photo (http://www.alamy.com/) (main image); Shutterstock.com (http://Shutterstock.com) (figure)
Christi Daugherty asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of 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, 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.
Source ISBN: 9780008238780
Ebook Edition © January 2018 ISBN: 9780008238803
Version: 2017-12-12
Dedication (#ulink_49e07169-4f34-5753-ab7a-c4299d2f10d4)
For Loyall Solomon. Who gave me my first newspaper job.
And changed everything.
Contents
Cover (#u23fe4cdb-af6c-5614-8e86-48a7974fc622)
Title Page (#u2e6055bb-9b95-562b-8e96-379fa89e876f)
Copyright (#u2bcaa390-b659-533d-9a21-028c1dde80f7)
Dedication (#u064280ae-8999-50f2-8baf-62b1125b0a05)
Chapter One (#ua32e009b-98bd-545e-8fe6-9c84611c5cfb)
Chapter Two (#u7f3dfc20-8da9-5f17-9adb-b04618d21f6d)
Chapter Three (#ub91ae6a5-c226-53b9-a37a-97ae5c601f70)
Chapter Four (#u42d53084-9f02-5dee-9041-1070ee6a5a02)
Chapter Five (#ua4aab67a-2de7-5eae-bbe5-ed63aab4f62b)
Chapter Six (#u179e54fb-4574-5443-b2ae-2cf5ddb2eda7)
Chapter Seven (#uc78b02c5-caf5-536e-b097-05fc2f2ced11)
Chapter Eight (#ub2a506b9-f313-5423-a5fb-bb3ab193247d)
Chapter Nine (#u096845bb-7c51-5bce-a257-b522fd9e2e5a)
Chapter Ten (#u49ba89f4-0c88-5067-b0e2-2e0fa6465ed5)
Chapter Eleven (#ud6f84f46-2dc2-5826-8af0-1bc7441e5ea9)
Chapter Twelve (#ua48a863f-8388-510b-a3f0-9701d96109fb)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-one (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-one (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirty-nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-one (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Forty-five (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgments (#litres_trial_promo)
Read on for a sneak peek of the next instalment, coming April 2019 … (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_9072bf60-ee4d-5fbb-8b17-ceef7bda1ca1)
It was one of those nights.
Early on there was a flicker of hope – a couple of stabbings, a car wreck with potential. But the wounds weren’t serious and the accident was routine. After that it fell quiet.
A quiet night is the worst thing that can happen to a crime reporter.
With an hour to go until her midnight deadline, Harper McClain sat alone in the empty newsroom with no story to write, doing the one thing she despised most in the world – a crossword puzzle.
On the far wall, tall windows reflected back a dark image of the huge open room with its white columns and rows of empty desks, but Harper didn’t notice it – she was glaring at the paper on her desk. Smudged and scratched-out letters glared back, like an accusation of failure.
‘Why would anyone know an eight-letter word for “reckless bravery”?’ she grumbled. ‘I’ve got a seven-letter word for “bravery” – it’s called “bravery”. I don’t need a longer word …’
‘Audacity.’ The voice soared across the newsroom from the editor’s desk at the front.
Harper looked up.
City Editor Emma Baxter appeared to be focused on her computer screen, a silver Cross pen glittering in one hand like a small sword.
‘Excuse me?’
‘An eight-letter word for reckless bravery.’ Baxter spoke without shifting her eyes from the monitor. ‘Audacity.’
Baxter was pushing fifty at varying rates of speed. She was small and wiry, and that only made her look better in a navy blazer. Her angular face had a permanent look of vague dissatisfaction, but somehow that suited her, too. Everything about her was precise – her perfectly even short nails, her stiff posture, and you could cut your hand on the razor-sharp edge of her straight, dark bob.
‘How the hell do you know that?’ There was no gratitude in Harper’s voice. ‘In fact, why the hell do you know that? There is something fundamentally wrong with anyone who could answer a question like “What’s an eight-letter word for bravery?” without first wanting to off themselves with a …’
At her elbow, her police scanner crackled to life. ‘This is unit three-nine-seven. We’ve got a signal nine with possible signal sixes.’
Harper’s voice trailed off. She cocked her head to listen.
‘I’m willing to forgive your insubordination on this one occasion,’ Baxter said magnanimously. But Harper had already forgotten all about audacity.
On her desk, her phone buzzed. She picked it up.
‘Miles,’ she said. ‘You heard the shooting?’
‘Yep. Slow night just got busier. Meet you out front in five.’ His Tennessee accent glided over each word, smooth as warm honey.
Harper gathered her things with quick efficiency and hooked her police scanner to the waistband of her black pants. Sweeping a light black jacket off the back of her chair, she shrugged it on. A narrow reporters’ notebook and pen were shoved into one jacket pocket. Press pass and phone in the other.
Moving fast, she headed across the room.
Baxter cocked an enquiring eyebrow at her.
‘Shooting on Broad Street.’ Harper talked as she walked. ‘Possible injuries. Miles and I are heading down now to find out more.’
Baxter reached for her phone to alert the copy desk.
