The Cellar

John Nicholl

Description

‘A dark tale that gets under your skin. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the page’ Gemma Rogers, author of The Feud

Dark, disturbing and gripping. This serial killer thriller is not for the faint of heart.

When a beautiful young artist named Lucy Williams is contacted by a stranger offering her the commission of a lifetime, she doesn’t realise what she’s walking into.

His promise: that Lucy will be paid a large sum of money to paint a mural in the basement of his house. His special space. He wants to create a tribute to life. He says – with her help – it will be perfect and beautiful.

Her first instinct is to say no. But then she discovers she’s pregnant by her abusive boyfriend and she knows she needs a way out. Accepting her mysterious benefactor’s offer could give her – and her unborn child – the lifeline she needs.

Lucy has no idea that she’s walking into a trap. Set by a psychopath who wants to possess every part of her. A man with fantasies darker than anything she could have imagined in her wildest nightmares…

Readers LOVE The Cellar:

‘OMG!!!!… What a read!! Just Wow!!!… One of the best psychological thrillers… that I have ever read!!!… Absolutely addictive and gripping. I seriously WOULD NOT even start this book unless you have cleared your schedule because you will not be able to put it down!!! I absolutely blew through it in one sitting and it genuinely was unputdownable!!! A true page turner absolutely rammed with suspense, tension and everything you want when you read a psychological thriller.’ Bookworm86

‘I was holding my breath while sitting on the edge of my seat reading this book. You can feel the fear dripping from the pages. This is a page turning psychological thriller that I could not put down.’ Goodreads reviewer, five stars

‘The darkest and most disturbing thriller I think I’ve ever read, and I loved every single moment of it!’ Goodreads reviewer, five stars

‘Holy guacamole! What have I just read?... It has to be the darkest and most disturbing thriller I've read.’ Goodreads reviewer, five stars

‘Unforgettable… Kept me glued to the pages until the very end. I must caution that it is not for the faint of heart.’ Goodreads reviewer, five stars

‘The Master of the Dark has done it again, another disturbing and heart stopping read from one of my favourite authors… Loved, loved it!!!!’ Goodreads reviewer, five stars

‘If you're looking for a dark and disturbing book, this is the one for you. The main character is unbelievably evil, a psychopath beyond belief. I couldn't turn the pages quickly enough to find out what the hell he was going to do next.’ Goodreads reviewer, five stars

Sujets

• Policier & Thriller
• Thriller
• Policier
• Mashups
• Psychological
• Private Investigators
• Hard-Boiled
• Amateur Sleuth
• Traditional
• Thrillers
• Suspenso
• Psychological thriller
• Domestic
• Psychology
• Crime
• Suspense
• Noir
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 07 novembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781804263679
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE CELLAR


JOHN NICHOLL
CONTENTS



Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Epilogue


More from John Nicholl

About the Author

About Boldwood Books
1

Marcus Gove stared at the wall clock high above the psychologist’s head, willing the hands to move a little faster. He raised an open hand to his mouth, yawning at full volume and then rubbing his eyes, as if struggling to stay awake. It was all part of his show. The persona he’d decided in advance to present that particular morning – anything to make his mundane existence just that little bit more interesting.
‘Is this going to take much longer, Doc? It’s getting boring.’
The secure hospital’s most experienced expert, Dr Sally Barton, looked back at Gove, her senior nursing colleague, with a disdain it seemed she could no longer hide. Her professional identity was slowly disintegrating before Gove’s eyes. Growing contempt was written all over her face.
‘This assessment is part of the disciplinary process, Marcus. My report will inform the clinical director’s decision regarding your future employment here at the hospital. You’re an intelligent man, therefore you must realise your predicament. You need to take the process seriously. You’re working with some of the country’s most dangerous patients. As of now, I have serious doubts as to your suitability for the role.’
Gove’s arrogant smirk became a full-blown belly laugh, head back, Adam’s apple bouncing, dark mercury fillings in full view. There was much about working in a hospital for the criminally insane that amused him. And this experience was no different. He began picking his nose, knuckle deep, flicking the snot over her right shoulder, as if aiming at the wall. His manic laughter suddenly morphed into a smile, replaced seconds later by a frown, the toothy grin disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. The appointment was progressing much as he’d hoped. He’d anticipated her seeking to retain a professional persona despite his antics, and now it was happening, making it all the more delicious.
‘So, I need to take this shit seriously, do I? Do I really? Is that so? Dr Know-It-All has serious doubts about my therapeutic abilities. It would be funny if it weren’t so pathetic. You are so full of crap, lady. The director is a bitch, and so are you.’
Gove watched as the psychologist slowed her breathing, steadying herself, sucking in the air before releasing it. The strain was getting to her. She was usually so calm, self-assured, and composed, but not now. There was a sheen of sweat on her brow, which pleased him. He’d liked to have licked it away. He considered it briefly but decided against it. He wasn’t ready to bring the interaction to a close. Everything was going his way. The bitch was squirming. Ha! There was more fun to be had.
Gove silently acknowledged that he was starting to enjoy himself. He studied the psychologist closely as she prepared to speak, her lip trembling ever so slightly, her facial muscles tense. The second hand on the clock was moving a little faster now, time passing more quickly.
‘Your behaviour has become extremely concerning, Marcus. You’re alleged to have had an overly familiar relationship with a patient, a man with paranoid schizophrenia, a predator who killed seven women before disposing of their bodies. It doesn’t get any more serious than that.’
Gove began rocking in his seat, his eyes wide, popping.
‘You said “alleged”. It was alleged, alleged, alleged ! Doesn’t that suggest an element of doubt on your part? It seems you’re not nearly as clever as you like to think you are, Doc.’ He repeatedly jabbed out a finger, pointing towards the three framed academic certificates on the wall to his left. ‘Maybe all those flashy paper qualifications aren’t worth shit. All those years of study were a complete waste of time and effort. You’re a bad joke, Doc. How much good do you do? Fuck all, that’s the truth of it. You come here, day after day, spouting your mindless nonsense to no good effect. Surely you must have realised that by now. Anyone with even half a brain would understand that reality. You’re a non-person, an irrelevance. Such a sorry sight to witness. How very sad to behold. Maybe you should crawl off and die somewhere in a dark hole where others wouldn’t have to suffer your vile attentions. I’m sure I would in your place. I couldn’t stand the shame of it all. To have wasted one’s life as you have, deluded by an unjustified sense of self-importance. You’re no more than a wallflower with your expensive clothes, permed hair and make-up. You’re a decoration for the amusement of males starved of female attention. And you’re not even very good at that.’
The psychologist somehow held it together despite Gove upping the pressure, but he felt confident her resolve was weakening. He was getting to her. Something he was good at, something he’d rehearsed and practised, sitting in front of a mirror, picturing her face, choosing his words, even his expressions, anything to make her twitch. He saw her stoic determination as a challenge to be overcome as he sat listening intently, searching for weaknesses, throwing one verbal grenade after another into the mix, simply because it amused him to do so. He waited with interest to hear what she said next, already deciding to dismiss it, preparing to go on the attack.
‘This isn’t a criminal court of law, Marcus. We’re not talking about proving the allegations against you beyond a reasonable doubt. I think we both know what happened. You agreed to cooperate with this process. At the very least, you developed an excessive interest in the patient concerned. Your fascination with his crimes went well beyond the professional. If anything, you fed his fantasies. We need to address that openly and honestly if we’re to make any progress. It seems that, yet again, I need to remind you that I’ll be making a recommendation as to whether you should keep your job at the end of this assessment process. There are issues you need to address.’
He tilted his head at an angle, leaning towards her with his open hands held wide.
‘Were they crimes?’
Her eyes narrowed.
‘Sorry, what are you talking about?’
‘Isn’t it obvious? It would be to anyone with even the slightest degree of insight. I’m referring to my new friend. The Hunter, as he was so appropriately referred to in the press. The gentleman you so flagrantly dismiss with your tired moral judgements and labels. Think about it. All he did was kill a few worthless vagrants, homeless trash, hardly a great loss to society. Is he insane? Should he even be locked up like some caged animal for idiots like you to irritate with your endless nonsense? I’m really not sure he should. So, he didn’t live by your rules. So what? Who are you to judge?’
She screwed up her face, and he knew he was winning. For a fleeting moment, he thought she might start crying.
‘Those women had a right to live like everybody else.’
He couldn’t reply until he stopped laughing. And even then, he giggled as he spoke, stopping between sentences to draw breath. He thought her contention utterly ridiculous. One of the most ludicrous things he’d ever heard. And that was saying something, given her lunacy, the moral straight jacket within which she lived her life: such misplaced principles, such unfortunate limitations.
‘You claim they had a right to life, these dregs of society, the filth that lives in the gutters. Did they? Did they really? Who are you to decide? Governments kill with impunity, as does nature, wars, famines, earthquakes, disease. It seems it’s the way of the world, survival of the fittest.’
‘Please think very carefully before saying anything else, Marcus. Some of the things you’ve shared are extremely concerning. Are you trying to be provocative? Is that what’s happening here?’
He spoke more quietly now, his body language relaxed as he sat back in his chair, legs crossed, a single finger raised to his chin below his bottom lip.
‘I’m told you have a strong religious faith. The Bible on your bookcase hasn’t gone unnoticed. You’re one of those do-gooder, God-botherer types who think they are oh so very special. But you’re just a big bag of shit, blood and intestines like everybody else. The Good Book is full of death and destruction, plagues, pestilence and genocide. Where is your God in all that? Surely, He must be the architect of it all if your belief system is accurate. Or is all that the work of the Devil? Is evil the dominant force in our universe? Let me know your thoughts. Are you as confused as it seems?’
Dr Barton shuffled a sheaf of papers, the colour draining from her face. It seemed she didn’t know what to do with her hands.
‘We’re here to talk about you .’
‘You flatter me, Doc. Am I that fascinating? Don’t answer that. I must be, or we wouldn’t be sitting here now. It’s all about me, my interests, desires and thoughts. I bet you wish you were more like me. You’re so uptight, so restricted in your ways.
‘I’ve actually developed a growing admiration for the man in question. Harrison approached his activities with a passion. He killed because such things gave him pleasure. He sucked the juice out of life. He explored the very limits of human behaviour and got away with it for six long years before the interfering police finally caught up with him and a judge sent him here. Isn’t that something to celebrate? I was keen to congratul