C.Toms-Arbel

THE MANNEQUINS begins with the grisly discovery of a murder. Entirely shaven and washed, the victim’s body is found in the heart of the Shropshire forests.

 Upon being assigned to the case, rookie Detective Cora Steele hopes this will be the case that will make her career but soon discovers it comes with a great cost. Plunged into a world of chaos, she and her team try to hunt down the predator that is stalking the hills of Shropshire abducting and murdering young women. 

Battling PTSD from a previous case, Cora desperately tries to solve the case, but as the bodies start piling up and her housemate is abducted, she begins to feel like she is losing control. 

Will Cora be able to save her best friend’s life? Or will she forever regret accepting the case?

 What makes this novel different to the myriad of crime thriller novels out there is that it focuses on the killer’s upbringing. Through a series of disturbing, biographical chapters, the reader gains an insight into the killer’s turbulent childhood and discovers how psychological abuse can be equally as damaging as physical.

 It examines the noxious environment required to produce a serial killer and highlights the complex developmental changes a child goes through when deprived of their basic needs. 

 This story has all the psychologically thrilling elements of a Thomas Harris novel with a distinctive rurally British note. 

This  powerfully dark story is packed  with unstable characters, hopeless relationships and personal sacrifice. The novel should appeal widely to fans of all kinds of suspense, from crime fiction to psychological thriller.

Exclusive Sneak Peak

Picking up speed, he pedals faster, trying to rid himself of those terrible memories. He cycles past a park and feels a pang of longing at the sight of the squealing kids playing on the see-saw and swings. Yet another reminder of his loneliness, he rides fast, desperately trying to escape the feeling of isolation. It is the hottest part of the day, and the heat is unbearable after a few hours of riding around the neighbourhood. Locking his bike to a lamppost, he walks up the quiet high street, looking for some shade. A clothes shop with the sign, 'CLOSED FOR REFURBISHMENT,' casts a large area of shade onto the pavement ahead. Slumping against the wall, he falls to his feet and loses himself in his morose thoughts.

An hour later, he stands up and is about to leave when he notices a large skip in front of the shop. Always looking for something to play with, he walks up to the skip and peers over the top. Staring back up at him is a mannequin. It's missing its legs, but the upper half is still in good condition. An idea materialising, he scoops it up and cycles home.

Sneaking past his inebriated mum with ease, the boy creeps up the stairs, goes to his room and locks the door. Unzipping his bag, he pulls out the half-sized mannequin and looks at it. He feels his pulse quicken when he notices the Polystyrene humps on the chest area. With her shapely figure and unblemished bleached white skin, the boy feels a strange twinge of arousal. The girls at school pulled the same faces when they looked at him, usually repulsion and disgust, but this girl didn't have a face. "Let's do something about that," he says, retrieving a red marker from the drawer. Carefully, the feeling of longing grows more intense as he fondles the doll; he draws on the eyes, nose and mouth. "There we go. Much better! Now, all we need is a name," he says to an empty room. Looking deep into her crudely painted eyes, he says, "you look like a Sophie to me. Yes, Sophie, it is."

Nestling into bed, the boy pulls Sophie close and cuddles her. "You and me are going to be best friends," he says, allowing his hands to caress her cold body.

As the months go by, the boy spends more time in his room. Behind locked doors, he forms a deep connection with his faux friend. At the age when boys begin to feel confusing urges, he doesn't know how to deal with these desires, so he locks them away, deep in his psyche.

On a autumnal October afternoon, the chattering leaves of gold and scarlet dancing past the window, the boy sits with his mother watching TV. Bored, he picks up the closest magazine and reads. Announcing the latest fashion trends for women, the front cover shows a picture of a beautiful woman dressed in a fox fur coat. He is taken by how regal the woman looks, wrapped in the deep shade of orange fur. Taking the magazine up to his bedroom, he untucks the doll, who'd been sleeping for some time and says, "I'm sorry Sophie, you must be freezing! We need to get you some clothes." He rifles through his drawers and dresses her in different clothes, but they are all too masculine. He doesn't dare go into his mum's room, so he jumps on his BMX and heads off, the swirling foliage enveloping him.

With the magazine folded in his back pocket, he heads towards the forest, an idea forming. He cycles into the heart of the forest, his eyes fixed on the thick carpet of leaves beneath him. Pausing by a colossal oak, he dismounts and drops to his knees. "Perfect! You'll make a perfect coat for my Sophie. I'll need a few more, though," he said aloud while fishing out the carcass of a wood pigeon from the bracken. The boy spends the rest of the day scouring the woods for dead birds. By the time the sun is making its graceful descent, he has collected four wood pigeons, two blackbirds, a sparrow and a chaffinch. With the birds' bodies stuffed into his backpack, he cycles home, excited to show Sophie his spoils.'