Blood Symmetry
Kate Rhodes
on Tour July 11 - August 20, 2016
Synopsis:
Clare Riordan and her son, Mikey, are abducted from Clapham Common early one morning. Hours later, the boy is found wandering disorientated. Soon after, a container of Clare's blood is left on a doorstep in the heart of London.Psychologist Alice Quentin is brought in to help the traumatized child uncover his memories, with the hope that it might lead the authorities to his mother's captors. But Alice swiftly realizes Clare is not the first victim… nor will she be the last.
The killers are desperate for revenge… and in the end, it will all come down to blood.
Book Details:
Genre: Thrillers, Crime
Published by: Witness Impulse
Publication Date: July 12, 2016
Number of Pages: 368
ISBN: 1444785605 (ISBN13: 9781444785609)
Series: Alice Quentin #5
Purchase Links:
Review: Although this is the fifth in the series, it is very easily read as a standalone novel. Most references to things in the past are fairly well explained, and I never felt lost or confused at all.
This story is based on fact, using real life experiences of people who received tainted blood transfusions in the 1970s and 1980s (I personally had a friend who died for that very reason). I can almost understand someone wanting to take matters into their own hands and exact revenge/justice on those they held responsible.
If you are someone who gets squeamish reading about blood, then you might want to skip this book. There is a LOT of blood/bleeding involved throughout. Other than that, however, the story is very well written and keeps you in the grips of emotion.
I found Alice to be a very likable character, and particularly enjoyed her interactions with Mikey Riordan. When she finally reaches a breakthrough moment with him, it leads to some excitement in the storyline, but the situation is still far from resolved. The entire book holds surprisng twists, and often has you wandering off in exactly the wrong direction in terms of solving things. I found it a wonderful read, and hope to read more of this series in the future.
**I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. All thoughts and opinions are entirely my own.**
Rating: Four stars
Read an excerpt:
Saturday 11 October
The trees on Clapham Common are aflame with autumn colour. A couple are holding hands on a park bench, watching the leaves turn from red to gold in the early sunlight. They’re sitting in a deserted copse, the path ahead shrouded by thickets of hazel.
‘Maybe they won’t come,’ the man says, the chill already sapping his strength.
‘Give them time. Not panicking, are you?’
‘Of course not. It was my idea, remember?’
She leans over to kiss him, face shadowed by the collar of her black woolen coat, but the moment of intimacy soon passes. The man strains forward as he hears footsteps crunching on gravel – someone racing towards them through the trees.
‘Now,’ he whispers. ‘Let’s put it right.’
The first jogger is a slim brunette in a blue tracksuit. A young boy drifts in her wake, his smile wide and unquestioning, frame so slight that his sweatshirt flails in the breeze. The man steps out from the shadows and grabs the jogger from behind; she fights hard, a look of stunned recognition on her face. Her elbows gouge his ribs as she yells at the boy to run, but the woman has already caught him. The child goes down fighting, thin form collapsing as he inhales the anaesthetic, a blindfold covering his eyes. A chloroform pad is pressed to his mother’s mouth, before she’s dragged into the bracken.
The couple lift the victims’ inert bodies on to the back seat, their car camouflaged by thick foliage. The man’s hands fumble as he covers them with blankets, morning traffic thickening as the woman slips into the driver’s seat. The most dangerous stage is over; all they have to do now is deliver mother and son to the laboratory. When the man peers under the blanket, Clare Riordan’s face is pale as candle wax, the child’s body curled behind the driving seat. His gaze shifts to the road ahead.
‘Not far now, almost there.’ He repeats the words like a mantra.
Close to their destination they pause on a side street, a delivery van blocking their way. But when he looks back there’s a flicker of movement. Through the rear window he sees the boy sprinting across the tarmac.
‘Jesus,’ the woman hisses. ’I thought the doors were locked.’
The man’s heart thuds as he spills out on to the road, his skin feverish. The boy has vanished. His gaze skims over houses and empty front gardens. At the junction he comes to a halt, heaving for breath, frustration flooding his system. Thank God the child didn’t see their faces. The mother will be killed once she provides the information they need, but her son is beyond their reach.
© HarperCollins
The trees on Clapham Common are aflame with autumn colour. A couple are holding hands on a park bench, watching the leaves turn from red to gold in the early sunlight. They’re sitting in a deserted copse, the path ahead shrouded by thickets of hazel.
‘Maybe they won’t come,’ the man says, the chill already sapping his strength.
‘Give them time. Not panicking, are you?’
‘Of course not. It was my idea, remember?’
She leans over to kiss him, face shadowed by the collar of her black woolen coat, but the moment of intimacy soon passes. The man strains forward as he hears footsteps crunching on gravel – someone racing towards them through the trees.
‘Now,’ he whispers. ‘Let’s put it right.’
The first jogger is a slim brunette in a blue tracksuit. A young boy drifts in her wake, his smile wide and unquestioning, frame so slight that his sweatshirt flails in the breeze. The man steps out from the shadows and grabs the jogger from behind; she fights hard, a look of stunned recognition on her face. Her elbows gouge his ribs as she yells at the boy to run, but the woman has already caught him. The child goes down fighting, thin form collapsing as he inhales the anaesthetic, a blindfold covering his eyes. A chloroform pad is pressed to his mother’s mouth, before she’s dragged into the bracken.
The couple lift the victims’ inert bodies on to the back seat, their car camouflaged by thick foliage. The man’s hands fumble as he covers them with blankets, morning traffic thickening as the woman slips into the driver’s seat. The most dangerous stage is over; all they have to do now is deliver mother and son to the laboratory. When the man peers under the blanket, Clare Riordan’s face is pale as candle wax, the child’s body curled behind the driving seat. His gaze shifts to the road ahead.
‘Not far now, almost there.’ He repeats the words like a mantra.
Close to their destination they pause on a side street, a delivery van blocking their way. But when he looks back there’s a flicker of movement. Through the rear window he sees the boy sprinting across the tarmac.
‘Jesus,’ the woman hisses. ’I thought the doors were locked.’
The man’s heart thuds as he spills out on to the road, his skin feverish. The boy has vanished. His gaze skims over houses and empty front gardens. At the junction he comes to a halt, heaving for breath, frustration flooding his system. Thank God the child didn’t see their faces. The mother will be killed once she provides the information they need, but her son is beyond their reach.
© HarperCollins
Author Bio:
Kate Rhodes is the author of four previous Alice Quentin novels, Crossbones Yard, A Killing of Angels, and The Winter Foundlings. She is also the author of two collections of poetry, Reversal and The Alice Trap. She writes full-time now, and lives in Cambridge with her husband, a writer and film-maker.
1 comment:
After reading your review, this book is now on my TBR list!
Post a Comment