The silhouette in the picture
by D.S. PaisPublish: Jul 31, 2019Crime Fiction Thriller Suspense MysteryBook Overview
The silhouette in the pictureAn assassin chases a high speeding car on the streets of London to capture the victim who has escaped. The car meets with a tragic accident, at the junction near St. Bartholomew church. The assassin is interrupted by an approaching vehicle and his task remains unfinished. An adventurous news anchor admits the injured to St. Gerome’s hospital, hoping to save them. After this incident, the news reporter’s life goes topsy-turvy and he receives continuous threats to his life. At the hospital, the man dies under mysterious circumstances and the victim disappears.
Prologue
From the past few days, she was pretending that it was necessary for her to do it. She was deep in the sandy brown earth, twining weeds and gnarled, stubborn bushes. The whining was loud; it had been for some time. She was digging for a long time. Her pants were dirty and dusty.
The emptiness of the house brought her memory back. She had no sleep at all, it was quiet. Sweat snaked its way down her body. Picking the lesser of two evils, she used the back of her left hand to wipe the sweat from her brow. The shovel felt awkward in her hands. Sighing, she continued to throw dirt up and over, reaching the hole deeper. Suddenly, it all came back to her, and she slammed to her knees, unable to continue. She hid her sweat covered face in mud and began to sob, uncontrollably. Her muscles screamed in protest as she shovelled another load of dirt out of the hole. She found what she came there for….The body…
Every day was a new challenge, a new revelation and yet, the same agony she had suffered from for the last few years. She could never quite get used to it. How could he? How could he not see?! These were the solutions, the answers. She had them.
Chapter One
Present Day
It was four o’clock in the morning. The alarm clock was singing the morning tunes. Oil canvas paintings decorated the room. The dawn was just lightening up the window screens. The surroundings of greenery soothed the morning air. The owls were still perched on trees with their round eyes watching the entire night and would soon doze off to sleep. The room looked sparklingly clean. The dressing table was neatly maintained, with pink rose’s filled vase at the extreme end and a greenish drapery to cover the mahogany wood. A Henredon desk and chair with a large mirror, which seemed big enough to cover more than a face stared at the beauty of the room.
A well-groomed, manicured hand was creeping out from the blanket covers to shut down the morning tunes. The alarm clock was humming for a long time, seemed like it was mild to the ears and then off it became silent. A sleepy-eyed woman in her late twenties was out of her bed, ready to face the world. The low voltage electric brush was brushing the teeth admonishing white. The young woman moved the draperies in her bedroom to get a glimpse of the morning sun. The colours were simply incredible and showed a clear sky, perfect for the morning jog. With a bright outfit to counterfeit the clear sky, a slim pair of legs started running through the cool air. It seemed like the cool winds were just nice to hug the person, welcoming to a bright new morn.
The roads were empty with a few taxis lingering on the roads carrying hurried passengers to drop them to their destination, many of them to the airport nearby to catch an early morning flight. There was a jogging track near the apartments where she was staying which ran a stretch of a lengthy five kilometres back and forth with a stream nearby and a bridge above.
Few years ago
The woman, Donna Cooper had parents belonging to different cultures. Her father was a British, thus the surname and he had wedded a Cantonese lady. Ten years into the marriage and they had separated. Her father got remarried to a younger woman, after a short-affair at the workplace, leaving the young child to be brought up by a single mother.
