Blood Song: Volume 3 (Roy & Castells, 3, Band 3) - Softcover

Buch 3 von 3: Roy & Castells

Gustawsson, Johana

 
9781912374816: Blood Song: Volume 3 (Roy & Castells, 3, Band 3)

Inhaltsangabe

The action swings from London to Sweden, and then back into the past, to Franco’s Spain, as Roy & Castells hunt a monstrous killer … in the latest instalment of Johana Gustawsson’s award-winning, international bestselling series.

***Longlisted for the CWA International Dagger***


‘Historical sections highlight, in distressing detail, the atrocious treatment of mothers-to-be in Franco’s Spain … A satisfying, full-fat mystery’ The Times

‘Assured telling of a complex story’ Sunday Times 

‘Gustawsson’s writing is so vivid, it’s electrifying. Utterly compelling’ Peter James

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Spain, 1938:
 The country is wracked by civil war, and as Valencia falls to Franco’s brutal dictatorship, Republican Therese witnesses the murders of her family. Captured and sent to the notorious Las Ventas women’s prison, Therese gives birth to a daughter who is forcibly taken from her.

Falkenberg, Sweden, 2016: A wealthy family is found savagely murdered in their luxurious home. Discovering that her parents have been slaughtered, Aliénor Lindbergh, a new recruit to the UK’s Scotland Yard, rushes back to Sweden and finds her hometown rocked by the massacre.

Profiler Emily Roy joins forces with Aliénor and soon finds herself on the trail of a monstrous and prolific killer. Little does she realise that this killer is about to change the life of her colleague, true-crime writer Alexis Castells. Joining forces once again, Roy and Castells’ investigation takes them from the Swedish fertility clinics of the present day back to the terror of Franco’s rule, and the horrifying events that took place in Spanish orphanages under its rule.

Terrifying, vivid and recounted at breakneck speed, Blood Song is not only a riveting thriller and an examination of corruption in the fertility industry, but a shocking reminder of the atrocities of Spain’s dictatorship, in the latest, stunning instalment in the award-winning Roy & Castells series.

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‘French novelist Johana Gustawsson writes novels of startling originality. Blood Song [is] truly horrifying’ Sunday Times

‘Her sleuths tracking a monstrous killer, transporting us from modern-day fertility clinics in Sweden to the abuses of Spanish orphanages under the brutal rule of General Franco … a truly European thriller’ Financial Times

‘Gritty, bone-chilling, and harrowing – it’s not for the faint of heart, and not to be missed’ Crime by the Book

‘A relentless heart-stopping masterpiece, filled with nightmarish situations that will keep you awake long into the dark nights of winter’ New York Journal of Books

‘Emotional and atmospheric’ New Books Magazine

‘Intricately plotted, visceral and emotional the author ramps up the tension and the unfolding keeps the reader guessing to the very end. Scenes are raw, vivid and gripping’ Promoting Crime

‘I don’t think there’s a crime writer who writes with such intelligence, darkness and deep sadness as Johana Gustawsson. This was extraordinary’ Louise Beech

Blood Song caught and has held onto my thoughts, it is clever, provocative, and a seriously good read’ LoveReading

‘A fascinating and engrossing read, but also one that I found intensely harrowing, deeply intimate and which made me cry’ Live & Deadly

‘A real page-turner, I loved it’ Martina Cole

‘Cleverly plotted, simply excellent’ Ragnar Jónasson

‘A must-read’ Daily Express

‘Bold and audacious’ R. J. Ellory

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Johana Gustawsson has worked as a journalist for the French and Spanish press and television. Her critically acclaimed Roy & Castells series, has won the Plume d’Argent, Balai de la découverte, Balai d’Or and Prix Marseillais du Polar awards, and is now published in 19 countries. A TV adaptation is currently underway in a French, Swedish and UK co-production. David Warriner translates from French. He has lived in France and Quebec, and now calls British Columbia home.

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Blood Song

A Roy & Castells Thriller

By Johana Gustawsson, David Warriner

Orenda Books

Copyright © 2019 Johana Gustawsson
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-912374-81-6

Contents

Title Page,
Dedication,
Epigraph,
Author's Note,
Falkenberg, Sweden,
Grant Road, Harrow, London,
El Palomar, Spain,
Flask Walk, Hampstead, London, home of Emily Roy,
Falkenberg, Strandbaden Hotel,
El Palomar, Spain,
Skrea Strand, Falkenberg,
Falkenberg Police Station,
El Palomar, Spain,
Falkenberg Police Station,
Sunday, 4 November 1990,
Olofsbo, Falkenberg, home of the Bergströms,
Alicante, Spain,
Falkenberg, home of the Lindberghs,
Monday, 12 November 1990,
Gothenburg Forensic Laboratory, Sweden,
Las Ventas Women's Prison, Madrid, Spain,
Skrea Strand, Falkenberg, home of Carina Isaksson,
Falkenberg Police Station,
Strandbaden Hotel, Falkenberg,
Las Ventas Women's Prison, Madrid,
Falkenberg Police Station,
Thursday, 22 November 1990,
Gustaf Bratt restaurant, Falkenberg,
Las Ventas Women's Prison, Madrid, Spain,
Old Town, Falkenberg,
Monday, 7 September 1992,
Gothenburg, home of the Blom family,
Las Ventas Women's Prison, Madrid,
Gothenburg, home of Albin Månsson,
5 Calle San Isidro, Madrid, prison for nursing mothers,
Lindbergh Clinic, Gothenburg,
Falkenberg Police Station,
La Virgen de los Desamparados Orphanage, Madrid,
Falkenberg Police Station,
Wednesday, 22 February 2012,
Diplomat Hotel, Stockholm,
Diplomat Hotel, Stockholm,
La Virgen de los Desamparados Orphanage, Madrid,
Grand Hotel, Falkenberg,
La Virgen de los Desamparados Orphanage, Madrid,
Falkenberg, home of the Lindberghs,
Falkenberg Police Station,
La Virgen de los Desamparados Orphanage, Madrid,
Falkenberg Police Station,
Calle de Alfonso XII, Madrid,
Thursday, 17 May 2012,
Murillo Café, Calle Ruiz de Alarcón, Madrid,
The Principal Hotel, Madrid,
La Virgen de los Desamparados Orphanage, Madrid,
Chocolatería San Ginés, Madrid,
La Virgen de los Desamparados Orphanage, Madrid,
Chocolatería San Ginés, Madrid,
The Principal Hotel, Madrid,
The Principal Hotel, Madrid,
60 Avenida de Menéndez Pelayo, Madrid,
Thursday, 17 May 2012,
El Retiro Park, Madrid,
La Virgen de los Desamparados Orphanage, Madrid,
The Principal Hotel, Madrid,
Coca, Spain,
La Virgen de los Desamparados Orphanage, Madrid,
Coca, Spain, home of Pedro Santos,
Friday, 1 June 2012,
Coca, Spain, home of Pedro Santos,
Plaza de la Corrala, Madrid,
Olofsbo, Falkenberg, home of Stellan Eklund,
Falkenberg Police Station,
Skrea Strand, Falkenberg, home of the Lindberghs,
Skrea Strand, Falkenberg, home of the Lindberghs,
Skrea Strand, Falkenberg, home of the Lindberghs,
Friday, 2 December 2016,
Strandbaden Hotel, Falkenberg,
Flask Walk, Hampstead, London, home of Emily Roy,
Acknowledgements,
About the Author,
About the Translator,
Copyright,


CHAPTER 1

Falkenberg, Sweden

Friday, 2 December 2016, 10.00 pm


KERSTIN WISHED SHE COULD have stopped the hands of time ticking. Cling on for just a few more seconds, so she could hold back the monster. Hide it. Tame it, somehow. But she had no longer had a choice. It had been now or never. So she had taken Göran by the hand, thrown open the gates of hell and released her inner demons.

Now Göran was asleep, face down in the well of his pillow. None of the words exchanged after their dinner had stopped sleep from coming and his anger had ebbed away into the night. Set free from the day and numbed by fatigue, his whole body now rested soundly, in childlike surrender.

Kerstin took off her dressing gown and slipped into bed beside him. Placing a hand on her husband's greying chest, she kissed his shoulder, where it curved to meet his armpit, the sweet spot where she loved to lay her head. She wished she could slide her thigh across Göran's legs and quiver at the touch of the soft hairs and hard muscles. She longed to hold him until the grief fought its way to the surface and flooded over her. She was waiting for the tears to come. For them to trickle timidly, one held-back drip at a time, then suddenly well into a raging torrent that would sweep her away. She wanted to cough up all the sadness caught in her throat and spit it out. Feel the panic set in as she struggled to breathe. She wanted the sorrow to sweep her away. She wanted to drown in it.

Kerstin shivered and pulled the duvet up to her shoulders. She hated this never-ending darkness. Some days, the sun seemed to never rise at all, and only snow would break up the clouds. Without it the moon could never part the heavy blanket of the night. Their bedroom was above the living room, overlooking the sea. Every night, Kerstin savoured the moment when she would lie in bed, gazing out at the water. But the sea was never more resplendent than when it shimmered in the summertime. Now, on the cusp of winter, it shivered with goosebumps as the wind whipped the surface into whitecaps. Perhaps the snow wasn't far away, after all.

Earlier, as Kerstin had stepped out of the shower, Göran had asked her to sleep in the guest room; nowhere near him. He had then taken the cushions off the bed, folded the fur throw and placed them all on the chaise longue with the same calm, calculated movements as every other night, but this time avoiding her gaze. Kerstin had left the bedroom in her dressing gown, her damp hair dripping splotches onto the floorboards. She had closed the door behind her and waited as obediently as a dog told to sit outside. With her nose pressed to the door frame she had listened to the silence, and waited for stillness, before opening the door again and getting into bed beside her husband. She didn't know how to sleep any other way.

Suddenly, she felt a weight descend on her lower abdomen, as if a heavy rock were crushing her pelvis. That was where all her repressed anger tended to build up. According to her acupuncturist, it was a boundary thing – something to do with how she related to others. Whatever. Although perhaps there was some truth to that. She had to admit, she hadn't really known whether she'd been coming or going that evening. Kerstin massaged her belly in a circular motion, pressing with the tips of her fingers to smooth the edge off the pain.

The mattress heaved as Göran stirred and turned onto his side, staring out to sea, at anything but his wife. Kerstin reached for her husband's hand, intertwining their fingers, pressing her moist palm to his. Trying to catch his eye. She wanted to draw him closer, put in words what had happened. But Göran twisted out of her embrace as if she were a stranger he couldn't bear to be around. He threw off the duvet, sprang out of bed and left the room.

Kerstin opened her mouth and drew a deep breath of air; the atmosphere in their bedroom was stifling. Fire flared in her chest, and flames of rage and desperation licked their way up her throat. She clamped her hands over her mouth and screamed. Creases ravaged her face, but the tears never came, only dry sobs. Always the same arid anguish. Except this time, she warmed to it, snuggling up to it as if it were Göran's arms and she were...

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