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Born in Chobham and raised outside Winchester, Fleur Hitchcock grew up as the youngest child of three. She spent her smallest years reading Tintin and Batman, and searching for King Alfred's treasure. She grew up a little, went away to school near Farnham, studied English in Wales, and, for the next twenty years, sold Applied Art in the city of Bath. When her younger child was seven, she embarked on the Writing for Young People MA at Bath Spa and graduated with a distinction. Now living outside Bath, between parenting and writing, Fleur works with her husband, a toymaker, looks after other people's gardens and tries to grow vegetables.A gripping thriller for readers who like danger and mystery and chills and spills from the comfort of their sofas... Unputdownable.
The Times and Sunday Times Children's Book of the Week.
"Much more Junior Line of Duty than Junior Miss Marple" - The Sunday Times
"Just the right level of intrigue and jeopardy" - The Times
When Lucas and Ruby find an abandoned trunk covered in snow, Lucas says there's bound to be a body inside. Ruby laughs but what if he's right? Nervously she starts to open it, and immediately wishes she hadn't. From that moment on, they're drawn into a thrilling mystery, one that they have to solve before the falling snow smothers all trace of wrongdoing...
"Open the box," says Lucas.
"Bet there's a body in it."
Ruby doesn't want to open the abandoned grey cabinet partially hidden by falling snow but she does.
And immediately wishes she hadn't...
A grisly discovery starts a chilling chain of events.
Can Ruby and Lucas stay one step ahead?
Or will they be thrown to the wolves...
"Fleur Hitchcock has cornered the market inhard-boiled crime novels for beginners."
THE TIMES
"I bet there's a body in that box." Lucas pointed at a grey cabinet that had appeared in the layby a few days ago. "Bet there isn't." I said, dragging my school skirt down to cover my frozen legs. "Why would anyone leave a body here?"
"Go on then, if you're so sure. Open it."
I stared at the cabinet. It was waist high, at an angle, propped against the skanky barbed wire fence. Sleet flakes were settling on the metal. It was probably colder than we were. I touched it. It was.
"Open it, then."
I wish I hadn't. But I did.