Human Remains

cause. The thought of that made me shiver, which is always the best sort of starting point for a novel.
    How much did you draw on your own experience working as a police analyst in the writing of this book?
    I’ve always felt the role of analysts within law enforcement has been sadly overlooked by fiction writers, and I thought it was time to redress the balance. However, it’s harder than it might seem to convey the excitement that we analysts sometimes feel over a particularly enlightening spreadsheet – it makes us sound really geeky and dull. But I’ve always found beauty in patterns, and it’s the perfect sort of puzzle, where something random and nebulous suddenly clears, the various pieces slide into focus and you realise that what you have is evidence about the circumstances of a crime. Everyone in law enforcement knows that thrill, when you realise you’ve found something nobody has spotted yet. I hope I’ve managed to convey something of that.
    The novel is told from the perspectives of both Colin and Annabel and, movingly, the dead. What made you decide to structure it in this way?
    I wanted to experiment a little more with narrative voice, having used a past-present narrative structure in both
Into the Darkest Corner
and
Revenge of the Tide
. I also liked the idea of the roles of predator/prey and hunter/hunted and I thought it was interesting that Annabel and Colin take both roles at different points in the story. Having researched articles, stories and films about those who decide to withdraw from society and end up dying alone, I wanted to explore the potential reasons why people make this choice – and to consider our responsibility as a society to find that balance between caring for our neighbours, and recognising our right to make adult decisions for ourselves as individuals. It’s difficult to know whether dying in your own home, alone, and at a time of your choosing, is something that should be seen as a tragedy or as a basic human right.
    Did you enjoy conjuring up Colin’s voice? Do you think he has any redeeming qualities?
    It was without doubt a challenge for me to write a male voice, and more specifically one that is so unusual. Without wishing to sound unhinged myself, it took me a long time to persuade Colin to ‘open up’ and let me write his story. It was particularly daunting because he’s clearly far more intelligent than I am and I’m sure he wouldn’t consider me to be equal to the task. Despite his idiosyncrasies, I find his unrelenting confidence in his own importance quite funny.
    How did you come up with his particular technique?
    There are elements of many different therapies or systems at play in Colin’s technique, all of which are fundamentally designed to be therapeutic or empowering. What Colin does is subtly twist things so that what people actually want – to die without pain or fear – is accomplished in such a way that he can also benefit. One of the principles underpinning neurolinguistic programming is that it needs to benefit both the practitioner and the individual with whom rapport is built – in other words, win-win. Despite his unusual desires, and his undeniable lack of integrity, Colin’s technique still achieves this to a certain degree.
    Do you think it could be possible in reality for someone like Colin to use benign therapies for evil intent?
    NLP is a powerful way to approach communication, and at its best can be empowering, helping people to change their lives for the better, to encourage them to take control of their own destinies and realise their goals. Whether a combination of NLP, hypnosis and mind control could achieve what Colin does in my story is another matter. Colin’s technique is only successful with those who have already chosen a particular path, after all.
    Do you think there is such a thing as an untraceable murder?
    No, but it’s endlessly intriguing to try and imagine one. Everything leaves a trace – the trick is knowing where to look.
    This is your third novel; how does it differ from
Into the Darkest Corner
and
Revenge of the Tide
?
    The first two books are fundamentally about relationships, so I wanted to write a book about the absence of them, about people existing in the world and revolving around the wider society like satellites – living as part of the system but not connecting with it. I am intrigued by the idea of loneliness – or, more accurately, aloneness – as a lifestyle choice.
    How did you