By Nicci French
The first booklet within the Frieda Klein secret series
“Complex mental suspense at its best.” —Booklist (starred review)
Immensely clever and poignantly human, Frieda Klein has captivated e-book critics and crime readers all over together with her debut trip as Blue Monday's iconoclastic heroine. A psychotherapist and insomniac who spends her nights jogging alongside the traditional rivers that lie underneath sleek London, Frieda stars in a stunning new crime sequence during which the terrors of the brain spill over into genuine life.
When five-year-old Matthew Farraday is kidnapped, Frieda can't forget about the truth that his photo completely fits the boy one in all her sufferers describes from his fantasies. sooner than lengthy, Frieda unearths herself serving because the reluctant sidekick of Detective leader Inspector Karlsson on the middle of a determined race to discover the kidnapper. Blue Monday is an atmospheric, beautiful first novel in against the law sequence for fanatics of In therapy and The Killing.
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Additional resources for Blue Monday
Was it a curse that the city covered so much of its past, or was it the only way a city could survive? Once she’d had a dream of a London where buildings and bridges and roads were demolished and excavated so that the ancient rivers flowing to the Thames could be opened up to the sky once more. But what would be the point? They were probably happier the way they were, secret, unnoticed, mysterious. When Frieda reached the Thames, she leaned over as she always did. Most times you couldn’t see where the stream flowed out of its pitiful little pipe, and this morning it was far too dark.
Sandy was lying wrapped in the tangled sheets. She sat on the edge and gazed down at him. He didn’t look like a Sandy; he had a more Mediterranean appearance, with olive skin and hair that was blue-black like a raven’s wing, except for a few streaks of silver. He held her stare without smiling. ‘Oh, Frieda,’ he said. Frieda felt that her heart was like some old chest that had been heaved up from the seabed, its barnacled lid prised open after all this time. Who knew what treasures she would find inside?
Her face was slightly filled out, her dark hair a little bit darker. Her tooth was still chipped and her smile was still anxious. Some newspapers carried it, but only on an inside page. There had been a murder of a particularly photogenic thirteen-year-old girl and this had dominated the headlines for weeks. Joanna was an old story now, a tingle in the public memory. Rosie stared at the picture until it blurred. She was scared she wouldn’t recognize her sister when she saw her, that she would be a stranger.