Aftermath Mass market paperbound - 2002

First line

Maggie Forrest wasn't sleeping well, so it didn't surprise her when the voices woke her shortly before four o'clock one morning in early May, even though she had made sure before she went to bed that all the windows in the house were shut fast.

Excerpt

Maggie Forrest wasn’t sleeping well, so it didn’t surprise her when the voices woke her shortly before four o’clock one morning in early May, even though she had made sure before she went to bed that all the windows in the house were shut fast.

If it hadn’t been the voices, it would have been something else: a car door slamming as someone set off for an early shift; the first train rattling across the bridge; the neighbour’s dog; old wood creaking somewhere in the house; the fridge clicking on and off; a pan or a glass shifting on the draining board. Or perhaps one of the noises of the night, the kind that made her wake in a cold sweat with a thudding heart and gasp for breath as if she were drowning, not sleeping: the man she called Mr. Bones clicking up and down The Hill with his cane; the scratching at the front door; the tortured child screaming in the distance.

Or a nightmare.

She was just too jumpy these days, she told herself, trying to laugh it off. But there they were again. Definitely voices. One loud and masculine.

Maggie got out of bed and padded over to the window. The street called The Hill ran up the northern slope of the broad valley, and where Maggie lived, about halfway up, just above the railway bridge, the houses on the eastern side of the street stood atop a twenty-foot rise that sloped down to the pavement in a profusion of shrubs and small trees. Sometimes the undergrowth and foliage seemed so thick she could hardly find her way along the path to the pavement.

Maggie’s bedroom window looked over the houses on the western side of The Hill and beyond, a patchwork landscape of housing estates, arterial roads, warehouses, factory chimneys and fields stretching through Bradford and Halifax all the way to the Pennines. Some days, Maggie would sit for hours and look at the view, thinking about the odd chain of events that had brought her here. Now, though, in the predawn light, the distant necklaces and clusters of amber streetlights took on a ghostly aspect, as if the city weren’t quite real yet.

Maggie stood at her window and looked across the street. She could swear there was a hall light on directly opposite, in Lucy’s house, and when she heard the voice again, she suddenly felt all her premonitions had been true.

It was Terry’s voice, and he was shouting at Lucy. She couldn’t hear what he was saying. Then she heard a scream, the sound of glass breaking and a thud.

Lucy.

Maggie dragged herself out of her paralysis, and with trembling hands she picked up the bedside telephone and dialed 999.

Media reviews

"The Alan Banks mystery-suspense novels are, simply put, the best series now on the market. In fact, this may be the best series of British novels since the novels of Patrick O'Brian. Try one and tell me I'm wrong."
–Stephen King

“If you love mysteries and absolutely superb writing, Aftermath is a must read.”
–Calgary Herald

“British crime fiction needs a new leader. Peter Robinson may well be the new top gun.”
–San Antonio Express-News

“Robinson should find a large audience for this gripping, psychologically astute tale.”
–Publishers Weekly (starred review)

“Robinson says he likes to take risks with his books, not follow formula. He’s right on both counts in Aftermath – the risks are horrifying, the lack of formula magnificent. Don’t wait for the movie.”
–Ottawa Citizen

“Dark and powerful.”
–Toronto Sun

“As readable as crime fiction gets.”
–Toronto Star

“If there were an Order-of-Canada-style process for naming detective thriller writers to Ian Rankin- or Michael Connelly-like status, I would nominate Peter Robinson.…Aftermath is as good a police thriller as I’ve read since…well, since Robinson’s Cold is the Grave.”
–Globe and Mail

Praise for Peter Robinson:

“Mystery-mongering at once as sensitive and grandly scaled as P.D. James.”
–Kirkus (starred review)

“This is crime-fiction writing at its best.”
–Globe and Mail

“Robinson’s work stands out for its psychological and moral complexity, its startling evocation of pastoral England and its gritty, compassionate portrayal of modern sleuthing.”
–Publishers Weekly (starred review)


From the Hardcover edition.