Slaughterhouse Farm

Praise for T. Orr Munro‘An impressive start in an exciting new series.’The Sun‘A page turner that will appeal to fans of Broadchurch.’Adele Parks, Platinum‘Packed with authenticity.’Mail Online‘Fresh, vivid and totally engrossing: this is gold-standard crime writing bearing the unmistakable hallmark of authenticity.’Erin Kinsley, Sunday Times bestselling author of Found‘This could turn into a gem of a series.’Sunday Post‘Fiendishly clever plotting. I was hooked from start to finish.’Sarah Stovell, author of Other Parents‘A tightly-plotted, well-paced story with a disturbingly manipulative, evil villain at its core.’Country and Townhouse‘I genuinely found it hard to put down. The writing is beautifully paced and the double viewpoint creates great tension.’Alex Gray, Sunday Times bestselling author of the DCI Lorimer Series‘It’s difficult to accept that Breakneck Point is a debut novel as T. Orr Munro’s writing is exciting, genuine and convincing.’My Weekly‘Fascinating and very compelling. Ally is complex and engaging, and her character makes for a gusty, unpredictable and emotionally taut plot.’John Barlow, author of Right to Kill‘Fast-paced, suspenseful, with characters I want to see again … Kept me guessing until the end.’Alison Weatherby, author of The Secrets Act T. ORR MUNRO was born in Aldershot in Hampshire to an English mother and a Greek-Armenian father who moved to deepest Devon after recognising it would be a great place to raise their children. She has a degree in Economic and Social History from Liverpool University and a PGCE in History and English. After university she trained as a CSI, then later became a secondary school teacher. She changed career at thirty-three to become a police and crime journalist and is currently freelance. She has since returned with her family to live in North Devon, the setting for the Ally Dymond series, but heads to Greece as often as she can. Her time as a CSI provided much of the inspiration for her novel, shining a light on what happens behind the crime scene tape. CopyrightAn imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd1 London Bridge StreetLondon SE1 9GFwww.harpercollins.co.ukHarperCollinsPublishersMacken House, 39/40 Mayor Street Upper,Dublin 1, D01 C9W8, IrelandThis edition 20231First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2023Copyright © T. Orr Munro 2023Tina Orr Munro asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.Source ISBN: 9780008479855Ebook Edition © MAY 2023 ISBN: 9780008479848Version 2023-03-21 Note to ReadersThis ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings: Change of font size and line heightChange of background and font coloursChange of fontChange justificationText to speechPage numbers taken from the following print edition: ISBN 9780008479855 For Frank, Rosie, Joe and AliceTo the moon and back ContentsCoverPraiseAbout the AuthorCopyrightNote to ReadersDedicationPrologueChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9FatherChapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17RalphChapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26BillyChapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35Chapter 36Chapter 37SilasChapter 38Chapter 39Chapter 40Chapter 41Chapter 42Chapter 43Chapter 44Chapter 45Chapter 46GabeChapter 47Chapter 48Chapter 49Chapter 50Chapter 51Chapter 52Chapter 53Chapter 54Chapter 55Chapter 56Chapter 57Chapter 58Chapter 59Chapter 60Chapter 61Chapter 62Chapter 63Chapter 64Chapter 65Chapter 66Chapter 67Chapter 68Chapter 69KitChapter 70EpilogueAcknowledgementsExtractAbout the Publisher PrologueMiriamAt first, she couldn’t work out why she was here. She hadn’t been back since that night, years ago, when he had taken her hand in his and led her through the darkened farmyard and up the hill until the soft grass underfoot became thick gnarls of heather and she knew they were on the moor.There his torchlight fell upon a huge, flat boulder, and he stopped to sit on it, patting the cold grey stone next to him. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she did as she was told, as always.He switched off his torch and told her to look up. Despite the strangeness of his request, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she cast her gaze skywards. The sight made her gasp in wonder. So many stars stretching across the horizon, the sky seemed to sag under the effort of holding them all. Someone once told her everyone has their own star and if we live a good life our souls will return to it when we die. She used to like the idea of being watched over by the souls of her kin, but that was before.He pointed out the patterns and the constellations: Auriga, Cancer and the Plough. Did she know the Arabians believed the bowl of the Plough was a coffin and its handle of stars the mourners condemned to follow it forever more? She said nothing and, realizing he’d careered from the romantic to the morbid, he stopped his chatter, and the silence engulfed them.The torch came back on. She heard a rustle and turned to see him fumbling in his jacket pocket, mining its corners in panic. Finally, his face relaxed and he held up his hand. In the pale, shaky light, dwarfed between a thick callused thumb and forefinger, was a tiny diamond ring.‘Marry me, Miriam,’ he said.She knew this was coming because her father had told her. Now it was here she felt only despair. And guilt. For he was a good man, but she didn’t love him, and she never would. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she’d already given her love away. It didn’t matter that it was