Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Crime Fiction Special Feature: The Chill of Night by James Hayman

Some Crimes Can Never Be Forgiven.

Lainie Goff thought she had it all. The ambitious young attorney was brilliant, beautiful, and on a fast-track to a lucrative partnership at one of the top firms in New England. But then, one cold night, a dark and ugly secret comes back from Lainie’s past and she pushes things too far. Soon her body is found, frozen solid in sub-zero temperatures at the end of the Portland Fish Pier.

A mentally ill woman named Abby Quinn witnesses the brutal crime. But when she tells what she has seen, nobody will believe her. Not until she too mysteriously disappears.

In The Chill of Night, Portland homicide detective Michael McCabe finds himself finds himself fighting memories from his own past as he races to find the killer before another life is lost.

James Hayman once again tells a gripping tale of evil and deceit and creates characters so real and so human, we want to meet them again and again.

Read an excerpt!

Abby looked up and saw a low dark thing moving toward her. A black form, now visible through the whipping snow, now obliterated by it. With each step it grew clearer and bigger. At twenty feet it began to take shape. Animal. Not human. A large dog, gray fur glistening under crystals of snow, cruel icy eyes shining through the night, more wolf than dog. She stopped but the animal kept coming. She could hear its rumbling growl. Low. Menacing. Commanding. Her heart beat against the walls of her chest so hard she was certain it would break through. She knew what the creature wanted. She knelt on her hands and knees. It bared a fang long enough and sharp enough to penetrate the soft flesh at back of her neck. She lowered her head and waited for release. But release didn’t come. Finally, after a minute or two, she looked up and it was gone. She could see nothing in front of her but the snow-covered street and the wind-swept flakes still hurtling down through the night sky. She stayed where she was, kneeling in the snow. She could hear a child crying. She listened. After a bit she realized the sound was coming from her. She got up and started walking again.




Read the reviews!

"Hayman once again takes the readers into a complicated web, masterfully woven and delightful to read through. As before, Hayman’s characters are realistic and as with Detective McCabe, flawed, making them all the more realistic. The Chill of Night will keep the reader up long into the night, as this is one book that the reader will not want to put down. I highly recommend The Chill of Night to anyone looking for an extremely well written suspense novel.”

–Rundpinne

“I loved this book! James is such a talented writer. I was on the edge of my seat the whole time I was reading. Two thumbs up!”

–Readaholic

"The Chill of Night strikes a great balance between the development of characters and the unfolding of the investigation. Hayman brings an attention to detail to the investigation that is often overlooked – or flat out gotten wrong – in crime fiction...James Hayman is the real deal, and the Michael McCabe series is one to put on your “buy on release day” list."

--Musings of an All Purpose Monkey
"The Chill of Night was a great addition to a series I am very excited about. I'll certainly be on the lookout for Hayman's next book."

--The Book Connection



Like McCabe, I’m a native New Yorker. He was born in the Bronx. I was born in Brooklyn. We both grew up in the city. He dropped out of NYU Film School and joined the NYPD, rising through the ranks to become the top homicide cop at the Midtown North Precinct. I graduated from Brown and joined a major New York ad agency, rising through the ranks to become creative director on accounts like the US Army, Procter & Gamble, and Lincoln/Mercury.


We both married beautiful brunettes. McCabe’s wife, Sandy dumped him to marry a rich investment banker who had “no interest in raising other people’s children.” My wife, Jeanne, though often given good reason to leave me in the lurch, has stuck it out through thick and thin and is still my wife. She is also my best friend, my most attentive reader and a perceptive critic.


Both McCabe and I eventually left New York for Portland, Maine. I arrived in August 2001, shortly before the 9/11 attacks, in search of the right place to begin a new career as a fiction writer. He came to town a year later, to escape a dark secret in his past and to find a safe place to raise his teenage daughter, Casey.


There are other similarities between us. We both love good Scotch whiskey, old movie trivia and the New York Giants. And we both live with and love women who are talented artists.


There are also quite a few differences. McCabe’s a lot braver than me. He’s a better shot. He likes boxing. He doesn’t throw up at autopsies. And he’s far more likely to take risks. McCabe’s favorite Portland bar, Tallulah’s, is, sadly, a figment of my imagination. My favorite Portland bars are all very real.
Visit James on the web at www.jameshaymanthrillers.com.

No comments:

Post a Comment