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Ash Henderson #1-2
Birthdays for the Dead / A Song for the Dying
Two Ash Henderson crime thrillers from the author of four consecutive No. 1 Sunday Times bestsellers.
BIRTHDAYS FOR THE Detective Constable Ash Henderson has a dark secret…
Five years ago his daughter, Rebecca, went missing on the eve of her thirteenth birthday. A year later the first card home-made, with a Polaroid picture stuck to the front – Rebecca, strapped to a chair, gagged and terrified. Every year another each one worse than the last.
The tabloids call him ‘The Birthday Boy’. He’s been snatching girls for twelve years, always in the run-up to their thirteenth birthday, sending the families his home-made cards showing their daughters being slowly tortured to death.
But Ash hasn’t told anyone about Rebecca’s birthday cards – they all think she’s just run away from home – because if anyone finds out, he’ll be taken off the investigation. And he’s sacrificed too much to give up before his daughter’s killer gets what he deserves…
A SONG FOR THE He’s back…
Eight years ago, ‘The Inside Man’ murdered four women and left three more in critical condition – all of them with their stomachs slit open and a plastic doll stitched inside.
And then the killer just … disappeared.
Ash Henderson was a Detective Inspector on the initial investigation, but a lot can change in eight years. His family has been destroyed, his career is in tatters, and one of Oldcastle’s most vicious criminals is making sure he spends the rest of his life in prison.
Now a nurse has turned up dead on a patch of waste ground, a plastic doll buried beneath her skin, and it looks as if Ash might finally get a shot at redemption. At earning his freedom.
At revenge.
BIRTHDAYS FOR THE Detective Constable Ash Henderson has a dark secret…
Five years ago his daughter, Rebecca, went missing on the eve of her thirteenth birthday. A year later the first card home-made, with a Polaroid picture stuck to the front – Rebecca, strapped to a chair, gagged and terrified. Every year another each one worse than the last.
The tabloids call him ‘The Birthday Boy’. He’s been snatching girls for twelve years, always in the run-up to their thirteenth birthday, sending the families his home-made cards showing their daughters being slowly tortured to death.
But Ash hasn’t told anyone about Rebecca’s birthday cards – they all think she’s just run away from home – because if anyone finds out, he’ll be taken off the investigation. And he’s sacrificed too much to give up before his daughter’s killer gets what he deserves…
A SONG FOR THE He’s back…
Eight years ago, ‘The Inside Man’ murdered four women and left three more in critical condition – all of them with their stomachs slit open and a plastic doll stitched inside.
And then the killer just … disappeared.
Ash Henderson was a Detective Inspector on the initial investigation, but a lot can change in eight years. His family has been destroyed, his career is in tatters, and one of Oldcastle’s most vicious criminals is making sure he spends the rest of his life in prison.
Now a nurse has turned up dead on a patch of waste ground, a plastic doll buried beneath her skin, and it looks as if Ash might finally get a shot at redemption. At earning his freedom.
At revenge.
1019 pages, Kindle Edition
First published April 9, 2015
121 people are currently reading
119 people want to read
About the author
Stuart MacBride
87 books2,724 followersAka Stuart B. MacBride
The life and times of a bearded write-ist.
Stuart MacBride (that's me) was born in Dumbarton -- which is Glasgow as far as I'm concerned -- moving up to Aberdeen at the tender age of two, when fashions were questionable. Nothing much happened for years and years and years: learned to play the recorder, then forgot how when they changed from little coloured dots to proper musical notes (why the hell couldn't they have taught us the notes in the first bloody place? I could have been performing my earth-shattering rendition of 'Three Blind Mice' at the Albert Hall by now!); appeared in some bizarre World War Two musical production; did my best to avoid eating haggis and generally ran about the place a lot.
Next up was an elongated spell in Westhill -- a small suburb seven miles west of Aberdeen -- where I embarked upon a mediocre academic career, hindered by a complete inability to spell and an attention span the length of a gnat's doodad.
And so to UNIVERSITY, far too young, naive and stupid to be away from the family home, sharing a subterranean flat in one of the seedier bits of Edinburgh with a mad Irishman, and four other bizarre individuals. The highlight of walking to the art school in the mornings (yes: we were students, but we still did mornings) was trying not to tread in the fresh bloodstains outside our front door, and dodging the undercover CID officers trying to buy drugs. Lovely place.
But university and I did not see eye to eye, so off I went to work offshore. Like many all-male environments, working offshore was the intellectual equivalent of Animal House, only without the clever bits. Swearing, smoking, eating, more swearing, pornography, swearing, drinking endless plastic cups of tea... and did I mention the swearing? But it was more money than I'd seen in my life! There's something about being handed a wadge of cash as you clamber off the minibus from the heliport, having spent the last two weeks offshore and the last two hours in an orange, rubber romper suit / body bag, then blowing most of it in the pubs and clubs of Aberdeen. And being young enough to get away without a hangover.
Then came a spell of working for myself as a graphic designer, which went the way of all flesh and into the heady world of studio management for a nation-wide marketing company. Then some more freelance design work, a handful of voiceovers for local radio and video production companies and a bash at being an actor (with a small 'a'), giving it up when it became clear there was no way I was ever going to be good enough to earn a decent living.
It was about this time I fell into bad company -- a blonde from Fife who conned me into marrying her -- and started producing websites for a friend's fledgling Internet company. From there it was a roller coaster ride (in that it made a lot of people feel decidedly unwell) from web designer to web manager, lead programmer, team lead and other assorted technical bollocks with three different companies, eventually ending up as a project manager for a global IT company.
But there was always the writing (well, that's not true, the writing only started two chapters above this one). I fell victim to that most dreadful of things: peer pressure. Two friends were writing novels and I thought, 'why not? I could do that'.
Took a few years though...
The life and times of a bearded write-ist.
Stuart MacBride (that's me) was born in Dumbarton -- which is Glasgow as far as I'm concerned -- moving up to Aberdeen at the tender age of two, when fashions were questionable. Nothing much happened for years and years and years: learned to play the recorder, then forgot how when they changed from little coloured dots to proper musical notes (why the hell couldn't they have taught us the notes in the first bloody place? I could have been performing my earth-shattering rendition of 'Three Blind Mice' at the Albert Hall by now!); appeared in some bizarre World War Two musical production; did my best to avoid eating haggis and generally ran about the place a lot.
Next up was an elongated spell in Westhill -- a small suburb seven miles west of Aberdeen -- where I embarked upon a mediocre academic career, hindered by a complete inability to spell and an attention span the length of a gnat's doodad.
And so to UNIVERSITY, far too young, naive and stupid to be away from the family home, sharing a subterranean flat in one of the seedier bits of Edinburgh with a mad Irishman, and four other bizarre individuals. The highlight of walking to the art school in the mornings (yes: we were students, but we still did mornings) was trying not to tread in the fresh bloodstains outside our front door, and dodging the undercover CID officers trying to buy drugs. Lovely place.
But university and I did not see eye to eye, so off I went to work offshore. Like many all-male environments, working offshore was the intellectual equivalent of Animal House, only without the clever bits. Swearing, smoking, eating, more swearing, pornography, swearing, drinking endless plastic cups of tea... and did I mention the swearing? But it was more money than I'd seen in my life! There's something about being handed a wadge of cash as you clamber off the minibus from the heliport, having spent the last two weeks offshore and the last two hours in an orange, rubber romper suit / body bag, then blowing most of it in the pubs and clubs of Aberdeen. And being young enough to get away without a hangover.
Then came a spell of working for myself as a graphic designer, which went the way of all flesh and into the heady world of studio management for a nation-wide marketing company. Then some more freelance design work, a handful of voiceovers for local radio and video production companies and a bash at being an actor (with a small 'a'), giving it up when it became clear there was no way I was ever going to be good enough to earn a decent living.
It was about this time I fell into bad company -- a blonde from Fife who conned me into marrying her -- and started producing websites for a friend's fledgling Internet company. From there it was a roller coaster ride (in that it made a lot of people feel decidedly unwell) from web designer to web manager, lead programmer, team lead and other assorted technical bollocks with three different companies, eventually ending up as a project manager for a global IT company.
But there was always the writing (well, that's not true, the writing only started two chapters above this one). I fell victim to that most dreadful of things: peer pressure. Two friends were writing novels and I thought, 'why not? I could do that'.
Took a few years though...
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Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews
October 20, 2020
Just a smidge too much but still a great read
Loved the progressive falling apart of Ash and the relationship with Alice.
It just steps over the line of cartoon violence which looses some of the menace but there is just enough to keep reading and enjoying
Loved the progressive falling apart of Ash and the relationship with Alice.
It just steps over the line of cartoon violence which looses some of the menace but there is just enough to keep reading and enjoying
September 20, 2021
What a fantastic read
Couldn’t put these books down. Already read the coffin maker’s garden so these helped to make sense of that 1. So well written
Couldn’t put these books down. Already read the coffin maker’s garden so these helped to make sense of that 1. So well written
January 3, 2023
Different detective and a return to form
November 28, 2024
Books
Great series of books very well written might put off a visit to Scotland with all the rImN and midges
Great series of books very well written might put off a visit to Scotland with all the rImN and midges
August 25, 2016
I adore Stuart MacBride’s Logan McRae series, so it should come as no surprise to know I jumped at his Ash Henderson series with a lot of expectations. Fortunately, the male did not disappoint. Whilst I favour his Aberdonian detective, I certainly had fun with this new character.
Like his Logan McRae series, the Ash Henderson books are filled with everything you would expect from a gritty crime novel. Suspense. Intrigue. Mystery. Wonderful characters. Questionable motives. The darkness of humanity. The only thing missing, for me, is the dark humour you find in his Logan McRae series. Truthfully, I missed it. I spend most of the McRae books giggling, whereas I merely smirked a couple of times in these books. Not that it’s a bad thing – far from it – I simply wanted some of his brilliant humour.
Unlike his Logan McRae series, the Ash Henderson books look at the darker side of a person. In the McRae books we’re given the good cop, in the Ash Henderson books we’re given the bad cop. I loved this. Henderson is such a great character, completely different to McRae. He’s a brilliant character for so many different reasons, and watching him toe the line between good and bad is wonderful. He’s certainly a great character to read.
Whilst I really enjoyed these books, they’re not quite the mind-blowing reads of his Logan McRae series. Still more than worth it, though.
Like his Logan McRae series, the Ash Henderson books are filled with everything you would expect from a gritty crime novel. Suspense. Intrigue. Mystery. Wonderful characters. Questionable motives. The darkness of humanity. The only thing missing, for me, is the dark humour you find in his Logan McRae series. Truthfully, I missed it. I spend most of the McRae books giggling, whereas I merely smirked a couple of times in these books. Not that it’s a bad thing – far from it – I simply wanted some of his brilliant humour.
Unlike his Logan McRae series, the Ash Henderson books look at the darker side of a person. In the McRae books we’re given the good cop, in the Ash Henderson books we’re given the bad cop. I loved this. Henderson is such a great character, completely different to McRae. He’s a brilliant character for so many different reasons, and watching him toe the line between good and bad is wonderful. He’s certainly a great character to read.
Whilst I really enjoyed these books, they’re not quite the mind-blowing reads of his Logan McRae series. Still more than worth it, though.
May 12, 2022
bravo!
I had already read all of the Logan McRae series and was pining for more- then discovered this little trio from macBride that is sooo satisfying! The violence, the mayhem, and such really great characters! Only one wish - plzz write more !
I had already read all of the Logan McRae series and was pining for more- then discovered this little trio from macBride that is sooo satisfying! The violence, the mayhem, and such really great characters! Only one wish - plzz write more !
October 11, 2021
Troppo odio e vendetta con un finale di terrore scadente .
April 12, 2023
Well then
This story is for the adults. If you're an immature moaner... read some pre school books.
A very good read.
This story is for the adults. If you're an immature moaner... read some pre school books.
A very good read.
Displaying 1 - 8 of 8 reviews