Free Don't Turn Around: A dark, thrilling, page-turner of a crime novel (Detective Jennifer Knight Crime Thriller Series Book 1) by Caroline Mitchell

eyes widened, and she stubbed out her cigarette with the heel of her boot. ‘Glo’s dead.’
    ‘I know. How much?’
    ‘How much for what?’
    ‘A tour of the city – what do you think?’
    Tina smirked. ‘Bit of a comedian aren’t you? What’cha got?’
    Frank waved a couple of notes before her.
    ‘This is all I’ve got. Have you got somewhere we can go?’ Frank said.
    Tina glanced at the notes and smiled. ‘Well, if the alley ain’t good enough, my mate lets me use his flat.’
    ‘I know somewhere quieter,’ Frank said.
    Tina cocked her head to one side. ‘I don’t know. I’m not sure if I trust you.’
    Frank’s nails bit into the palms of his hands and his voice deepened into an impatient growl. ‘Do you want the money or not?’

    T ina swore as she tottered through the wet leaves, bowing to avoid the low branches on the narrow path.
    ‘Where are you bringing me? We’ve been walking for ages.’ The bones in her fingers dug into Frank’s forearm, and he resisted the urge to push her into the briars.
    ‘Quit your moaning, we’re here.’ The beam of his torch lit a derelict house. The torch was for Tina’s benefit. His eyes had long since adjusted to the night, and he knew these paths well.
    ‘Stinks a bit.’ Tina wrinkled her nose as Frank pushed open the back door. The scent of soot still hung in the air, remnants from a partial house fire. The original occupants of the house had long since fled.
    ‘Sorry, I forgot you’re used to the Ritz,’ he said, lighting a fat roman candle and carrying it through to the sparsely furnished room. A porcelain doll lay on the thinly carpeted floor, its arm outstretched, searching for the owner that abandoned it. Tina removed her high-heeled boots and tiptoed over to the burgundy sofa in the corner. She made an effort to drape herself seductively on the damp material. ‘Well, come on then. Let’s see your money so we can get started.’
    Frank hesitated, somewhat tempted as she began to undo her blouse and hitch up her skirt. He waved the cash and left it on the table.
    ‘C’mon my lad, let the dog see the bone,’ she said, hitching her knickers to one side.
    Christ, what was he thinking? Yet there it was, laid out on a plate in front of him. He had only intended on getting her alone to question her, but it was too good an opportunity to miss.
    The candlelight flickered against her bare breasts as she pressed them together in an effort to hurry him up. Frank moved towards her, his plans changing by the second. He undid the buckle of his belt, his heart beating hard in his chest. ‘Turn around,’ Frank said, enjoying the feeling of empowerment. Grabbing a fistful of Tina’s hair, he satisfied himself until his plans were temporarily forgotten.
    ‘You got a fag?’ Tina said, appearing indifferent to it all.
    ‘I don’t smoke.’
    Tina shrugged and took a pack out of her bag. ‘Maybe now you’ve popped your cherry you can start. It’s good after sex. You should try it.’
    Frank stared at Tina as the circular orange glow of her cigarette punctuated the darkness. He imagined stubbing it out on her face. How dare the dirty slut talk down to him? He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, a small trickle of blood leaking a copper taste into his mouth.
    ‘Aw c’mon, what are you looking so mad about? You got what you wanted. Now show me the way back. It’s fucking freezing in here.’
    ‘Sit down,’ Frank said, his voice deep and low.
    Tina sniffed. ‘Look, I don’t know what’s going on here but I don’t have time for it. Are you going to show me the way back or do I have to find it myself?’
    Frank took two strides towards her, and placing both hands on her shoulders, pushed her back against the sofa. Tina yelped as her head hit the corner of the tattered armrest. Frank leaned over her and pressed his finger to her mouth. Fingering the knife in his jacket pocket, his words came slow and deliberate.
    ‘You want to get out of here in