Darkness for Light: Caleb Zelic Series: Volume Three

by Emma Viskic

Overview

The third book in Emma Viskic's pulsating Caleb Zelic series, perfect for fans of Jane Harper

Caleb Zelic can't hear you. But he can see everything.

After a lifetime of bad decisions PI Caleb Zelic is finally making good ones. He's in therapy, his business is recovering and his relationship with his estranged wife Kat is on the mend.

But soon Caleb is drawn into the tangled life of his troubled ex partner Frankie, which leads to a confrontation with the cops. And when Frankie's niece is kidnapped, she and Caleb must work together to save the child's life. But can Caleb trust her after her past betrayals?

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781782275435
Publisher:	Steerforth Press
Publication date:	03/16/2021
Series:	Pushkin Vertigo: Caleb Zelic , #31
Pages:	352
Product dimensions:	5.10(w) x 7.70(h) x 0.80(d)

About the Author

Emma Viskic is an award-winning Australian crime writer. Her critically acclaimed debut novel, Resurrection Bay, won the 2016 Ned Kelly Award for Best Debut, and an unprecedented three Davitt Awards: Best Adult Novel, Best Debut, and Readers' Choice. It was also iBooks Australia's Crime Novel of the year, and was shortlisted for both the CWA Gold and New Blood Daggers in the UK. Emma studied Australian sign language (Auslan) in order to write the character of Caleb Zelic. She is currently writing the fourth Caleb Zelic thriller.

Read an Excerpt

1.
A children’s farm was a nice change. Clandestine meetings were usually held in dark pubs, not urban pastures with good sightlines and pleasant views. Half an hour before closing time, a few families were still out wandering the gardens and gazing at cows. Crisp air and deep-blue sky, a lingering warmth to the late afternoon sun.
Melbourne autumn at its best.
Caleb paid the staggering entrance fee and headed down the path at a brisk pace. The five-block drive from his office had taken twenty minutes thanks to roadworks, and everything about this possible client screamed anxiety – the anonymous email address and lack of phone number, the request they meet immediately.
A feeling of lightness despite the rush to get here: the end of a good day, in a good week, in a greatly improved year. Thank God.
Caleb reached an enclosed garden with amber-leaved trees.
Fluffy chickens were scratching at the ground, their feathers moulting like snow. No self-described stocky man in a charcoal suit. No men at all. Just a mother and her bandy-legged toddler offering grass to the disinterested birds. A glimpse into a possible future: a small hand in his, Kat by his side, an afternoon together in the sun. The mother turned and said something to him. Her words were too fast to catch, but her expression was clear: Go
away weird, smiling man.
He left.
No one was waiting on the other side of the gate, or by the barns.
Looked like Martin Amon was a no-show. A bit of a surprise; the man hadn’t come across as flaky in their brief email conversation.
No worrying overuse of capital letters or exclamation marks, just a few blunt sentences that gave the impression of someone used to taking charge. Maybe it was just as well. Odds were, Amon was an uptight manager worried about minor fraud, but his urgency could also signal something more ominous. The exact kind of work
Caleb avoided these days. He only took safe jobs now – employee checks and embezzlement cases, security advice – nothing that could bring fear and violence back into his life. A lesson finally learned after his brother. After Frankie.
He looped around the far side of the garden for a final look.
More chickens here, three of them pecking at a darkened patch of grass near a wooden shed. Small lumps of something pale and glistening. A cloying smell, like a butcher’s shop on a summer’s day. He knew that smell, still started from his dreams with it thickening his breath.
He stopped walking.
A long drag-mark led from the birds into the shed; wet, as though someone had slopped a dirty mop across the grass. Stray tufts of down had stuck to it, stirring gently in the breeze. White feathers, stained red.
Bile rose in his throat.
Movement to his right, the mother and toddler coming around the corner towards him. The child gave him a gummy smile and offered a fistful of grass. No air to speak; no words. Caleb put up a hand and signed for them to stop. The woman froze, her mouth opening as she noticed the pallid flecks and damp grass,
the chickens peck, peck, pecking. She scooped up her child and ran.
He should run, too.
Should turn and leave and never come back.
He skirted carefully around the chickens and followed the long stain to the doorway. No windows, his eyes slow to make sense of the shadows. A peaked wooden ceiling, high stacks of hay against the walls. The man was lying on his side by the door. Charcoal suit,
a few extra kilos softening his stocky build, sandy hair matted at the back. No face, just a bloodied pulp of flesh and bone.

What People are Saying About This

From the Publisher

"Viskic just keeps getting better." — Adrian McKinty, author of The Chain

"A mazey delight of a mystery." — Ian Rankin, author of the Inspector Rebus novels

"An Australian thriller at its finest. A captivating read from first page to last." — Jane Harper, author of The Dry

Editorial Reviews

A CRIME BOOK OF THE YEAR — The Times (London)

"The tension builds from the very first page...brutal but compassionate." — The Times (UK)

Praise for the Caleb Zelic thrillers:

"Stunning... original and splendidly plotted [with] a superb cast of main characters." —  The Times, Crime Book of the Month

‘Razor-sharp… James Ellory and Paul Cleave fans will be pleased’ —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

"Trailing literary prizes in its wake... superbly characterized... well above most contemporary crime fiction." — Financial Times, Books of the Year

"More than lives up to its hype... Fierce, fast-moving, violent... it is as exciting a debut as fellow Australian Jane Harper's The Dry, and I can think of no higher praise." — Daily Mail

From the Publisher