{"product_id":"meet-me-in-the-darkness-isbn-9781782279624","title":"Meet Me in the Darkness","description":"\u003cb\u003eA journalist and a police detective track a serial killer through the streets of Helsinki in this nail-biting psychological thriller.\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e“A brilliant game of cat and mouse.” - \u003ci\u003eThe Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e5 years ago, Ida bravely took the stand against her celebrity therapist Clarissa Virta and Virta's monstrous husband. Now in her twenties, she is putting the past behind her and throwing herself into a new job, alongside her newly-sober father at the crime desk of \u003ci\u003eHelsinki Today\u003c\/i\u003e. But during her work, Ida stumbles upon a disturbing pattern: a series of horrific murders that point to a hidden serial killer stalking the streets of Helsinki.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLeading the official investigation with Helsinki’s police force is Detective Chief Inspector Kerttu Leppänen, a veteran homicide officer. Her retirement application has just been denied, and her past is full of ghosts she can't lay to rest. The Finnish police force has over two hundred unsolved homicides from the last 50 years – and Kerttu has never been able to escape that thought. Haunted by unsolved cases and her own regrets, Kerttu is determined to uncover the truth before the killer strikes again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut the past has a way of tightening its grip. And it's not finished with them yet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe follow-up to Martta Kaukonen’s international bestseller \u003ci\u003eFollow the Butterfly, Meet Me in Darkness \u003c\/i\u003eis a pacy, disturbing psychological thriller full of taut turns, twisted mind games, and dark secrets.\"Kaukonen creates a refined, unsettling, almost claustrophobic psychological thriller. She writes about trauma, memory, and guilt. About what we repress in order to survive. And how devastating it can be when everything resurfaces.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eAgorà Letterario\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Martta Kaukonen confirms herself as an author capable of using the genre as a critical instrument, exploring trauma, power, and memory with a distinctive and recognizable voice. A novel that engages with the best of international psychological noir and cements her as a writer to watch carefully on the European literary scene.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eContorni Di Noir\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\"For a while now, even though I read decent thrillers, I always noticed the same old plot threads, a repetition of predictable dynamics, characters who acted according to clichés, and I regularly ended up getting a little bored. In short, I felt the need to find a good thriller that would surprise me, that finally represented something different from the usual. When I read \u003ci\u003eMeet Me in the Darkness\u003c\/i\u003e, I knew I'd found the thriller I was looking for.\"\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e—La Republica\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eMartta Kaukonen\u003c\/b\u003e is a full-time author and previous film critic for Finland's biggest newspaper. Alongside writing, Martta loves psychological thrillers, film noir, flea markets, abandoned houses and travelling. Her debut thriller, \u003ci\u003eFollow the Butterfly\u003c\/i\u003e, was a critical and commercial hit in Finland. It is being translated into twelve languages, has already made the Spiegel bestseller list in Germany and is being adapted for a TV series. \u003ci\u003eMeet Me in the Darkness\u003c\/i\u003e is its sequel.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eDavid Hackston\u003c\/b\u003e is a British translator of Finnish and Swedish literature and drama. Notable publications include \u003ci\u003eThe Dedalus Book of Finnish Fantasy\u003c\/i\u003e, Maria Peura’s coming-of-age novel \u003ci\u003eAt the Edge of Light\u003c\/i\u003e, Johanna Sinisalo’s eco-thriller \u003ci\u003eBirdbrain\u003c\/i\u003e, two crime novels by Matti Joensuu and Kati Hiekkapelto’s Anna Fekete series. He also translates Antti Tuomainen’s stories. In 2007 he was awarded the Finnish State Prize for Translation.The axe’s blade sank into my victim’s forehead as though it had finally found its place in the world. The wooden handle jutted out like an extra limb.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHow I loved the sight!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd how skilfully I’d made it happen! The axe had arched through the air like a falling star. A single blow, and the victim was dead.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eClean, considered, precise.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy murders were works of art! And I was their conscious \u003ci\u003eauteur\u003c\/i\u003e. I never settled for compromises.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf only you could have witnessed the magnificence of it all! But because you can’t, you’ll have to settle for my description. Over the years, I’ve sent an impressive number of suits to an early grave. The list is so long that if people knew how many victims I’d actually claimed, they wouldn’t believe it. How could I have killed so many people without getting caught? These men toppled into their graves like dominos, as though their sole purpose in life was to be murdered by me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMaybe it was.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhy are murderers never rewarded for their achievements? I imagined myself on a podium—in first place, of course—taking a bow in front of a cheering crowd. Once the fanfares died down, I gave a speech. I thanked myself. I accepted the applause. \u003cbr\u003eI snapped back to reality, to the victim’s bedroom. I’d grabbed the designer lamp on the bedside table and was gripping it in my hand like a microphone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI put the lamp back on the table, then raised my hands in front of my eyes and peered between my fingers. If you could crop the axe out of the picture, everything looked peaceful. My victim was lying in bed, relaxed. It was almost as though I’d put him out of a long, drawn-out misery.\u003cbr\u003eIf only he knew how dignified his death had been. I’ll probably die of old age, ancient and worn-out. Unless I hire an assassin to take me out before I get there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIf I could just take a selfie alongside my creation… I wanted to immortalize the body and the axe. But I didn’t want to fill my phone with incriminating evidence.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI felt the urge to press my bloodied fingers into my victim’s cooling forehead, to leave my fingerprints as proof that it was me who had committed this murder, to make sure nobody else could take the credit for it or steal it from me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut I didn’t have time to hang around. I took a packet of disposable wipes from my bag, wiped down the foot of the lamp and the bedroom door handle. I hadn’t touched any-thing else, and even then, I’d been wearing a pair of nitrile gloves. But you can never be too careful. By sticking to this principle, I’d never been caught for my crimes, and I wasn’t planning on getting caught now either.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI glanced out of the window. A drunken man staggered out of the door of the Watering Hole across the street. I could have easily picked up another victim from the pub if I’d wanted to.\u003cbr\u003eI hurried into the hallway. Only then did I see it. \u003cbr\u003eThere among the dirty boots and old, misshapen trainers was a pair of pink suede high heels.\u003cbr\u003eI only ever killed single men—and for good reason. I didn’t want anyone to surprise me halfway through the butchering. Was my victim married or just living with a girlfriend?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWife, lady friend—it didn’t matter. The burning question was: where was his sweetheart now?\u003cbr\u003eMy jubilation was gone in an instant.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhat if she’d heard us coming into the victim’s apartment together? Or seen me take out the axe, got frightened and hidden somewhere?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSweat tingled on my brow. I’d never killed a woman.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd I didn’t want to start now. But there might be no avoiding it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWas she hiding in the hallway? What if she was armed? A gun? Something heavy? An antique brass candlestick? A ten-kilo kettlebell that she could use to smash my kneecaps to a pulp?\u003cbr\u003eI had to find her. I couldn’t leave until I’d done so. What if she wasn’t at home after all? In that case, I needed to get out of here before she came back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAgain, I took the axe out of my bag. I hadn’t wanted to leave the murder weapon at the scene for the police to pore over. No, though it suited my victim’s head perfectly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI looked around. My eyes lighted on an old walnut ward-robe, the kind that led to Narnia.\u003cbr\u003eI wrenched the door open. It was flimsier than I’d imagined, and I stumbled back at the lack of resistance. I gripped the door frame at the last minute and managed to stay upright.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI pushed the raincoats and gabardines to one side. \u003cbr\u003eThere was nobody in the wardrobe. I moved on to the living room.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe space was dominated by a large, luxurious Chippendale sofa upholstered in black velvet. It was so low to the floor that there wasn’t enough room underneath it for anybody to hide there. The peach-coloured curtains on either side of the windows were translucent. The bookcase was flush against the wall; no one could have squeezed in behind it. The room was empty.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNext was the kitchen.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe edge of the rose-decorated waxed tablecloth was short, so I didn’t have to peer under the table. There was only one possible hiding place in the room, but even in the cleaning cupboard there was just a vacuum cleaner, a mop and a bucket.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe only place left was the bedroom. I clenched the axe in my sweaty hands and crept over the threshold.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe lady friend couldn’t have been there either. Could she have witnessed her beau’s demise without a peep? My victim had bellowed in horror when he saw the axe above his head.\u003cbr\u003eBut I had to inspect the room all the same. I cautiously gripped the bedspread.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere was nobody under the bed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe danger was over. Still, the victim’s partner could turn up at any moment. I took out the wipes again and began hur-riedly backing out of the apartment, quickly wiping all the surfaces I’d touched on my way.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI ran out of the apartment, down the staircase and all the way to the front door. I carried on running until I reached the bus stop. I needed to get out of Vallila, fast. I took the first bus that appeared, walked right to the back seat and sat down. It was only then that I realized my hands were trembling.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI’d never been that close to getting caught.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI glanced around. The bus was almost empty. Apart from me, there was nobody else sitting at the back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFrom my bag, I took out a thick notebook and a ballpoint pen, and I started writing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe axe’s blade sank into my victim’s forehead as though it had finally found its place in the world.\u003c\/i\u003e","brand":"Pushkin Vertigo","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":48233381331173,"sku":"NP9781782279624","price":18.95,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781782279624.jpg?v=1767732515","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/meet-me-in-the-darkness-isbn-9781782279624","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}