دانلود رمان انگلیسی “بهانه‌ی بی‌نقص”

The word stuck in my mind like a shard of glass. I glared out of the car window, watching the greenery slowly bleed into grey as we sped out of the valley towards Manchester city centre. The sky hung low and dark, pressing down on the wet tarmac as we drove on in silence. Although the police officer driving had killed the sirens once we merged onto the motorway, the sound still echoed in my ears. I closed my eyes and saw his face. Cold. Lifeless. Mouth open as if he’d been about to say something and never got the chance. That image made the cuffs locking my wrists together feel tighter, pushing pins and needles into my fingers. I jiggled my hands inside the clear plastic evidence bag the officer had put over them at the scene, desperate to readjust the chain even slightly to create space, and I felt the dried blood on the back of my hands crack. His blood. The blood that I was caked in when the police burst through the door. The blood that made me taste metal every time I drew breath. The blood so ingrained into every pore that even I couldn’t clean it off. I couldn’t even see most of it. It was trapped underneath one of those white paper suits the officer had dressed me in at the scene, the kind you see on television, to preserve evidence. I could still feel it, though. My clothes were stiff and creaked every time I shifted my weight, scraping against my skin. My socks were clean. They’d taken my shoes off me with a pair of tongs and sealed them in a bag like they were a biohazard.