The Sisters
Subscribe to our newsletter for title recommendations, giveaways and discounts reserved only for subscribers.
Join here.
books by dervla mctiernan
the cormac reilly series
The Sisters (prequel)
The Roommate (prequel)
The Ruin
The Scholar
The Good Turn
standalone novels
The Murder Rule
Copyright © 2019 by Dervla McTiernan
E-book published in 2022 by Blackstone Publishing
Cover design by Alenka Vdovič Linaschke
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced
or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the
publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious.
Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental
and not intended by the author.
Trade e-book ISBN 979-8-200-69616-1
Library e-book ISBN 979-8-200-69615-4
Fiction / Mystery & Detective / Police Procedural
CIP data for this book is available from the Library of Congress
Blackstone Publishing
31 Mistletoe Rd.
Ashland, OR 97520
www.BlackstonePublishing.com
Monday, November 1, 2004
Chapter One
Aifric
It started raining while Aifric was waiting for her coffee at the little kiosk just off Chancery Street, on Meetinghouse Lane. It was the only place between Aifric’s bus stop and the office that served reasonable coffee at a price she could afford, but it wasn’t a coffee shop, really. More of a hole in the wall. They had an awning that kept off the worst of the rain if you were lucky enough to be standing under it, but on that particular day Aifric had the misfortune to be queuing just outside its protection. The freezing, misting drizzle that had been hanging around all morning intensified into fat, icy drops. Aifric shuffled forward, but the man standing directly in front of her didn’t move.
“Excuse me,” she said. She cast a meaningful glance upward, half expecting an apology and fully expecting that he would make some space, but he just looked her up and down, long enough to take in her rapidly soaking hair and her cheap coat, and turned back to his friend, continuing his conversation as if she’d never said a word.
“Excuse me.” Aifric stepped forward again and got close, close enough that she could smell his overpriced Clive Christian aftershave.
“Christ.”
Aftershave Man threw her the dirtiest of looks and took a very small step forward. There was still a generous amount of empty awning-protected space in front of him. He rolled his eyes at the shorter, rounder man standing to his right, and Aifric barely restrained herself from giving them both the finger. She was half under the awning now. Was that better or worse? Aftershave Man kept talking to his friend, as if Aifric weren’t right there, listening to every word.
“Did you go in last night?”