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Hello,

Allow me to introduce myself. I’m the prime suspect in the murders committed in Langbury. The one Detective Inspector Royle keeps circling back to. The one whose version of events will forever test his patience.

To be fair to him, there is a serial killer stalking Langbury. Someone methodical. Someone who enjoys planting red herrings and cultivating fear. Someone who knows that one death is tragic, but several, carefully arranged, become something else entirely. And that person is me. Yes, I confess. Yes, it was premeditated. No, I’m not sorry. It’s who I am.

D.I. Royle has done a reasonable job investigating. He’s followed the evidence, spoken to witnesses, and examined the account closely. He believes – quite sincerely – that if he keeps going, he’ll eventually catch me. I admire his optimism. But the problem he faces is a structural one. He’s working inside Langbury, and I’m standing just outside it. I decide what’s revealed, what’s withheld, and when the truth needs to come out. Unfortunately for him, I’ll always be one step ahead. I am, after all, the architect of these narrative crimes.

Langbury didn’t appear by accident. It was built deliberately – a place small enough to feel contained and claustrophobic but at its heart, a harmless, everyday town. It’s the perfect place for a serial killer to hide in plain sight. Where motives overlap and suspects multiply because everyone is hiding something. The deaths that occur there aren’t random. They escalate and will echo through this small town for years to come. Those left behind will look at one another differently. Trust will be forever tested.

You see, secrets are deliciously toxic. You never really know someone until you know their secrets.

Once you embark on a criminal career such as mine, it’s surprisingly difficult to stop. There’s always another job waiting. Another line you’re tempted to cross, just to see what happens. Reputation matters in this biz. If you want to be taken seriously in the darker corners of the literary underworld, you have to prove you’re capable of this sort of thing. I’d like to think a body count counts for something.

So, today my gang and I have chosen to release the account of my criminal exploits in Langbury so you can decide for yourself. I leave it up to you who you believe. Whether the truth lies with those you suspect, or whether it’s hiding somewhere much less obvious. As for what I did – allegedly – don’t listen to D.I. Royle. His is but one version of the terrible events that unfolded here. Mine is, well, I’m afraid you’ll have to read my account to find out. It’s out there now, secreted on bookshelves across the country. IYKYK. Search it out and do let me know what you think.

As for Royle, don’t worry about him. He’ll no doubt keep investigating and I’m quite sure our paths will cross again. Until then, enjoy your trip to Langbury.

Oh, one last word of warning. If you are planning to visit anytime soon . . . #Bewarethetruth.

With criminal affection,

Helen Price

Author of Kill Me Now