Nicki`s Life of Crime : BLOG TOUR, BOOK EXTRACT - Some Days Are Dark by Miranda Smith

BOOK BLURB

When you have nothing to lose, how far will you go to save yourself?

Everyone in Whitaker was sure Olivia Miller shot her husband, until Marcus Rowe confessed. But a month before the trial, Marcus has been proved innocent—putting Olivia back in the frame.

Olivia is the first to admit she isn’t perfect. She’s made a lot of mistakes in her life, the worst of which was marrying Dane Miller. She fell for his kind eyes, his lack of judgement—she thought she could be free with him. That was before the chaotic parties, the dangerous friends, the lies… But one bad choice shouldn’t mean a life sentence. Now her friends are turning away from her, gossiping about her wherever she goes, wondering when she’ll be arrested this time.

Olivia isn’t going to run from the stares, from the whispers, from the doubts. She won’t leave her beloved son behind, or give her ex-husband Frank and his new wife any excuse to stop her seeing him. And if the police and the world think she’s guilty, there’s only one thing she can do—prove her innocence herself.

But if Marcus didn’t murder her husband, then the real killer is still out there.

And they’re not going to want Olivia stirring up the past…

An absolutely gripping, heart-pounding suspense novel about bad choices and second chances. Perfect for fans of Gone Girl, Karin Slaughter and Lisa Gray.

Chapter 1

After I

I was happy my husband died, but I couldn’t admit it, otherwise people might resume saying I killed him. The world, especially the South, labels all types of women. Smart types and dumb types and nurturing types and cold types. For about any situation, there is a type of woman who does or doesn’t fit. Some women lack the grit to swat a fly, while more hysterical types are fully capable of shooting their husbands. Apparently, I fall into the second group.

In the eighteen months following the murder, I sat down with three separate camera crews to forever document my life’s most trying moments. The first aired on American News Channel, a cut-and-dried case depiction featuring forensic evidence and law enforcement input. No one had to ask me questions. I told producers what they needed to know via Skype. The second program aired on Crime Station, a network dedicated to broadcasting all things murder. It was more salacious due to the reenactments.

The third program was a formal interview with Vanessa Hardgrave, an in-your-face victims’ rights advocate who speaks about murder investigations with an almost orgasmic lilt. Soon after the murder, she publicly vilified me, describing my provided timeline as too convenient. Until police made an arrest. I received a phone call a few weeks later from her producers requesting an appearance. They made it clear the segment would focus on the injustice of being wrongly accused.

All the episodes were recorded on my DVR. I spent most mornings wrestling my memories into submission, the good ones and the bad. But, as always, boredom crept in, and I decided to rewatch the interviews. Sometimes I needed a reminder that the hardest part of my life was almost over. The Hardgrave interview was my favorite; it provided the platform to tell Vanessa—and the world—my side of the story.

I prepared an omelet and poured a mimosa before returning to the living room and clicking on the television.

“Tonight, on Vanessa Hardgrave Investigates,” the announcer beamed, “we venture to Whitaker, Tennessee for an exclusive interview with Olivia Miller. Her husband, Dane Miller, was found dead inside their home on July 14, 2018. Investigators initially considered her the prime suspect in her husband’s brutal death. We will hear, for the first time, about the painful reality she has lived since the murder.”

I fast-forwarded through the opening credits and the inessential introduction Vanessa gives before each show. Jumping out from the blur was my face, patient and calm. I wore a tan pantsuit; Eddy, my lawyer, said it conveyed literal and figurative neutrality. My hair was shorter then, a lighter shade of brunette than it is now. Even though I was in my thirties, the contouring around my features made it hard to tell. I appeared well bred and civilized, a stark contrast to the woman hiding in her living room and drinking alone.

On the screen, I sat across from the weathered interviewer. Vanessa wore a yellow turtleneck and a coral hue stained her lips. She was styled to appear vibrant and approachable. In person, she was neither. I pressed play.

“Let’s discuss how life changed in the days after you found your husband dead,” she said. Vanessa’s voice was annoyingly northern. Vowels stretched thin and consonants overly emphasized. I remembered, when the cameras weren’t rolling, her voice sounded much less unique. “When did you first realize the police viewed you as a suspect?”

The camera panned to me.

“Almost immediately. The spouse is always placed under suspicion. Finding the body made the target on my back larger.” I appeared confident, my legs crossed and my posture upright. The camera returned to Vanessa, her pixie hairstyle sprayed stiff against her temples.

“Did you feel unfairly targeted?” she asked.

“Not right away. Police walked me through all the procedures. They kept my clothing for DNA analysis and brought me to the station for a formal interview. Of course, I was pretty shaken up. It was stressful, but I wanted to help with the investigation.”

“When did the tables turn?”

“A few days after Dane was… after the event, questions took a more accusatory tone. The detectives had issues with my alibi.” On screen, I flinched before calmly returning my hands to my lap.

“Where had you been earlier in the night?”

“I was with my ex-husband, Frank,” I answered.

Vanessa had wanted a detailed timeline, but Eddy refused to let me speak further. Their tense argument lasted several minutes, but viewers would never know because the exchange was edited out.

“Frank Grier?” Vanessa asked, as though she wasn’t already aware of the details.

“Yes.” I stared back at her. My eyes lost their brightness as I realized the interview was turning into another interrogation.

“Other than your alibi, what issues posed a concern for police?” she asked.

“They were interested in the state of my marriage. Dane and I had been having problems.”

Alone in my living room, I considered how bizarre it was to reveal such personal details to a stranger. Details I might not even share with a friend, if I had any.

“What types of problems?” The woman had no shame. With each question she kept the same, steady gaze.

“Typical disagreements. But we were on track to repairing our marriage.” That was a lie.

“Did you have financial issues?” she asked, twirling a pen between her long fingers.

“There were financial stressors, yes.”

For the first time on camera, she looked down at her notes. “Because you were married, you were entitled to his life insurance policy. Correct?”

“Yes, I received a substantial amount.” I wiggled in my seat, both on camera and presently on my sofa. I got uncomfortable when people presented me with motives for why I must have wanted Dane dead. Like they were trying to convince me I did it.

“According to his policy, you received high six figures,” Vanessa said.

“Yes. Substantial.” My annoyance with this line of questioning showed.

I laughed watching the moment play back, chomped another morsel of melted cheese and egg.

“I assume this was another reason the police grew suspicious,” she continued, adopting a condemnatory voice.

“Yes, Vanessa, it was.”

Author Bio:

Miranda Smith writes psychological and domestic suspense. She is drawn to stories about ordinary people in extraordinary situations. Before completing her first novel, she worked as a newspaper staff writer and a secondary English teacher. She lives in East Tennessee with her husband and three young children.

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PUBLICATION DATE: 16th March 2020

PRINT LENGTH: 354 Pages

PUBLISHER: Bookouture

ASIN: BO83Z73FQD

GENRE: Psychological Thriller