I Know Your Secret by Jess Roy
Dr Amanda Brody has it all – or so it seems. Married to a leading medical consultant, with a fabulous career, two amazing children, and a beautiful house in the suburbs of Galway City.
Everything is perfect – or is it? Because Amanda hides a secret.
One she has lived with for years. A secret so terrible she has no doubt it will destroy her life if ever it is revealed.
And this is exactly what happens, starting with a note pinned to her car, on it just four words: I Know Your Secret.
Who knows her secret? Who does she turn to? Who does she trust?
Amanda’s worst nightmare has just begun.
About the author
I’ve been writing all my life and have an M.Phil in Creative Writing from Trinity College, Dublin. However, I never really had the confidence, or focus, to pursue it properly until relatively recently. I am a civilian employee of the Irish police, An Garda Síochána. Since 2014 I have written six novels, three published by Bookouture. More recently, I Know Your Secret, a domestic psychological thriller, will be published by Question Mark Press on November 1 next. I also like to play guitar, write the odd ditty, and sing American country songs.
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Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=1457294004
Twitter: https://twitter.com/MScanlonAuthor
Buy links
Amazon UK https://www.amazon.co.uk/Know-Your-Secret-Jess-Roy-ebook/dp/B09J2Y25SQ
Amazon US https://www.amazon.com/Know-Your-Secret-Jess-Roy-ebook/dp/B09J2Y25SQ
Today I have the pleasure of sharing an extract from the book.
Thursday September 5 2019, 4.32 p.m.
Doctor Amanda Brody emerged from the revolving doors of the White Rock Medical Clinic and walked quickly towards the private hospital’s car-park. It was just after four thirty, but the early September sun was still hot in a clear blue sky. In a corner of the car-park, where a sign said “Staff Only”, she pointed her key-fob, and a lime green Mercedes in the second row of vehicles made a squelching noise in returnand blinked twice.
She crossed to it and got in, pulled off her high heel leather pumps and threw them into the passenger foot well, took a deep breath, held it, closed her eyes, and exhaled slowly, before repeating the process. She did her potato sack routine, imagining on each exhale potatoes, which represented thoughts from her busy day, running out of a bag. When the bag was empty, in theory, her mind should be empty, too, leaving her to refill it with happier thoughts. It usually worked.
With her eyes still closed she pressed her feet and rubbed them across the hard rubber grooved pedals, the rough sensation, soothing in a way, further removing her from her head. Then she imagined pouring herself a gin and tonic when she got home, plopping a slice of lemon into it, raising it to her lips, taking a sip… hhmm. That was better.
She opened her eyes and placed the key in the ignition, turning it, firing the engine into life, flicked the car into gear, was about to move off when she noticed it, tucked beneath the driver’s windshield wiper directly in front of her. It was a white envelope.
Didn’t whoever had placed it there know that unsolicited material was strictly forbidden within the hospital and its grounds? Even staff members couldn’t promote anything, not even charity events. She thought of nurse King, with her lucrative sidelinebusiness selling expectant mums and dads coloured images of their babies in the womb. Even she wasn’t allowed to advertise.
Amanda cursed under her breath, tempted to activate the wipers and try to brush the damn thing away. But she was a little curious, too. Because who went to the trouble of placing a flyer inside an envelope? It didn’t make much sense. The flyer maybe. But inside an envelope?
She opened the door and stretched out a hand. The thing was just beyond her reach, so she was forced to get out, feeling the gritty tarmac through her nylons. She snapped the envelope out from under the wiper with a thumb and index finger and held it gingerly, like a sample just taken from a patient. She got back into the car and threw it onto the dash. She noticed it was sealed shut, too. She leaned forward and picked it up again, turning it over like a curiosity in an antique shop. There was nothing written on it. Carefully, she lifted the edge of the seal and peeled it back just enough to place a finger inside and tear it open.
It was not a flyer, she could see that straight away, but a sheet of plain white paper. As she touched it, it felt thicker than standard copy paper but not quite board paper either. It felt somewhere in between, like a type of card paper maybe. Amanda pried it from the envelope, it had been neatly folded in three, and opened it out. As she stared her mind scrambled for meaning.
Was this a joke?
But as she read, her blood ran cold.
No. This was not a joke.
I Know Your Secret
She stared at the words printed on the sheet of paper in her hands, her eyes going over each letter, noting the curve of the “S”, the squat bluntness of the “I”. Fifteen letters in total, combining into four words, combining into one sickening belly punch.
She released it and watched it float down, coming to rest on her lap, touching her like a burning ember. But she ignored it, because at that moment a memory came crashing into her consciousness, sweeping all else before it...
Of a sliver of grey light seeping around the edges of the large curtained window next to the bed she was lying on. And a smell of wood polish and soap, mixed with alcohol and sweat - male sweat. She was petrified, too petrified to move or to make any sound, to even breathe. From outside, she could hear the occasional swoosh of a passing vehicle. The air against her skin was sharp and cold. She realised then she had no clothes on, and her arms, painful and heavy, were like leaden weights. She forced herself to try and move them. But she could not, and immediately she understood why. Her wrists were tied to the headboard. She opened her mouth, heard the loud shrill noise, realised it was that of her screaming.
Amanda clutched the steering wheel, tighter and tighter, a low croaking noise coming from her throat, her breathing rapid. She could feel her nails digging into her palms. But she welcomed the pain, becauseit diverted her attention from her rising panic.
I Know Your Secret
