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Biographical note
R.J. Ellory is the author of twenty novels published by Orion UK, and his work has been translated into twenty-six languages. He has won sixteen international literary awards including the Quebec Booksellers' Prize, the Livre De Poche Award, the Strand Magazine Novel of The Year, the Mystery Booksellers of America Award, the Inaugural Nouvel Observateur Prize, the Quebec Laureat, the Prix Du Roman Noir, the Plume d'Or for Thriller Internationale 2016, the Theakston's Crime Novel of the Year, both the St. Maur and Villeneuve Readers' Prizes, the Balai d'Or 2016, and the Grand Prix des Lecteurs on two occasions. He has been shortlisted for two Barrys, the 813 Trophy, the European Du Point, and five Crime Writers' Association UK awards. Among other projects, he is the guitarist and vocalist of The Whiskey Poets, and has recently completed the band's third album. His musical compositions have been featured in films and television programmes in more than forty countries. He has four television series and two films in pre-production, and has recently started work on the French film adaptation of A Quiet Belief in Angels. To find out more visit www.rjellory.com or follow him on X @rjelloryDaniel and Nathan were six years old when they first met and became best friends. Thirty years later Dan is convicted of Nathan's murder . . .
Daniel Ford has thirty-six days to live. Accused of the horrific murder of his best friend Nathan twelve years before, he has exhausted all appeals and now faces the long walk to the electric chair. All he can do is make peace with his God.
Father John Rousseau is the man to whom the last month of Daniel's life has been entrusted. All the two men have left to do is rake over the last ashes of Ford's existence. So he begins to tell his story.
Daniel's story takes him from his first meeting with Nathan, aged six, on the shores of a lake in 1952, through first loves, Vietnam, the death of Kennedy and finally their flight from the draft which ends in Nathan's brutal murder.
But meanwhile the clock is ticking and the days are running out . . .