Rena
Sutherland wakes from a coma into a mother’s nightmare. Her daughter’s is
missing – lost for four days – but no one has noticed; no one has complained;
no one has been searching.
As the victim support officer assigned to her
case, Christine Emmett puts aside her own problems as she tries to guide Rena
through the maelstrom of her daughter’s disappearance.
A task made harder by an ex-husband desperate
for control; a paedophile on early-release in the community; and a psychic who
knows more than seems possible.
And intertwined throughout, the stories of six
women; six daughters lost.
This is what this mytery by Katherine Hayton is about. Katherine is also promoting her new novel. This virtual book tour started on November 17th and will run until December 12th. One lucky commenter will receive a $50 Amazon/BN gift certificate, which will be drawn by Rafflecopter. Here is the link to place your comment:
Excerpt from the novel
I set out the chairs in a circle. In
my head I counted off each person as I placed their seat. Terry, dead daughter;
Ilene, missing daughter; Kendra, missing daughter; Joanne, sick daughter;
Christine, dead daughter. That last one is me, by the way.
There used to be a need for more
chairs. I had quite the group running at one stage. Not now. We’ve dwindled and
whittled our way to a close knit bunch. Like a knitting circle with barbed
tongues driving all the young and optimistic members away.
I remember when I was talked into
setting up this group. I was whining away to an old colleague one day and she
mentioned that I may be helped by a support group. A support group! I
“reminded” her that I was a fully qualified psychiatrist who had once had a
roaring career until I realised how futile the entire field was. I wasn’t
someone who attended a support group. I was the one to run it.
Famous last words.
There was a crunch of gravel outside
and I walked to the window to have a nosey. Not one of mine. An elderly gent
made slow progress towards the temporary library. He swayed so deeply from foot
to foot he looked like a Weeble in full wobble.
I laid out a half packet of stale
gingernuts which had mysteriously survived in our pantry and hoped that no one
was feeling too hungry.
Something about the author
Ever
since I was three year’s old I’ve been reading everything I can lay my hands
on. It’s been my passion, my solace, my comfort. I used to look forward to
Wednesday nights which were the time that my mother would take me, and any of
my siblings who wanted to go – so usually just me, to the library.
It
would be wonderful, thrilling, and risky. I was only able to take three books
out each week, and only one of those could get a free pass on fees. If I picked
the wrong one I would be stuck with it for a whole week. Not only stuck with
it, but I’d have to read a bad book cover to cover because otherwise I’d have
to do something else, and that was not really what I was after. I did go
outside, and played outside, and watched TV like any normal kid, but that was
just stuff you filled in time with until you could read again.
Throughout
my childhood there was never anything I wanted to do but become a writer – it
seemed the only natural progression to my life. Then I crawled inside a bottle
for fourteen years, and when I popped back out I was working in an office job
in a travel agency, my mother was dead, and I was clueless as to how I was
meant to get my life back on track.
About
the time I started to seriously study the craft of writing, something that used
to come naturally to me but had grown incredibly hard through lack of use, I
also had a change in career path into insurance (not as big a change as it
might seem as it was really from one office job to another with a brighter
future and better career path.) I started to challenge myself in my
professional life, and my personal life, so instead of focussing in on writing
I instead tried out a range of different hobbies, followed up on fleeting
interests, tried to learn to play the saxophone which my partner was glad was a
short-lived affair, and generally did all of the things I should’ve spent my
teens and twenties doing but hadn’t.
But
of course I always circled back to writing. Reading and writing. My passion
remains the same but instead of skimming widely across any and all genres I’ve
narrowed down and done a deep-dive into crime fiction which has been my
favourite for over a decade now.
I
love the fact that I’ve been reading the same genre of fiction for more than
ten years now, and still find new and interesting things with every book that I
pick up. Now I’m trying to bring something new and unique to me to the genre.
And soon I might finally get back on track to being the person that I always
wanted to be.
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