The Knock-Knock Man

Who is The Knock-Knock Man? A ghost, a killer, or simply a creepy urban legend? This is the question that continues to haunt disgraced police officer Ali Davenport, fifteen months after the devastating case that changed the course of her life. Now, after the death of her former colleague, Ernie, Ali has returned home to face a past that won’t stay buried. Found in the disused office building where he worked as night security, Ernie’s death has been ruled as suicide. But not everyone is convinced. Wild stories are circulating about a supernatural presence in the building, an entity that might have attacked Ernie that fateful night. With the sale of the building about to go through, Ali is hired by its owner to work Ernie’s remaining night shifts and debunk the potentially damaging story. An easy enough job, if you don’t believe in ghosts. But then Ali meets Will, a teenage ghost hunter who claims to have evidence on film… Ali and Will soon fall headlong into a mystery that takes them through their town's macabre history and into Ali’s own dark past. As the pieces of the puzzle come together, Ali is forced to face the question of The Knock-Knock Man. What she doesn’t know is The Knock-Knock Man has already been watching her for a very long time…

Cathi Unsworth, author, Weirdo

"Mardell has fashioned a hugely original and totally terrifying folk horror noir from the rich ingredients of the Wiltshire countryside – a landscape steeped in ancient mystery, ancestral sin, class exploitation and superstition – that has both contemporary resonance and the echo of the timeless. A land where both Dennis and Ben Wheatley meet and fear of the supernatural is only matched by the evil that men do."

Stephen Volk

"A sharp, chilling mystery with tremendously engaging characters, written in taut prose with occasional stabs of acerbic wit, this thriller with a dark heart will give fans of Phil Rickman, Peter Laws and Neil Spring a real treat. I loved it and genuinely couldn't put it down."

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

PrologueThe problem was, the boy had said that he had seen a ghost. Where do you go fromthere? That was the question that Ernie kept returning to as his life slowly ebbedaway.Perhaps if the boy hadn’t told Ali about The Knock Knock Man, and had Ali not thentold Ernie, then the face they had seen that night in the woods could have been putdown to a vivid imagination. Maybe the whole sorry messcould have ended at theDeveraux estate with the zip of body bags.Maybe.But the boy, Jake, months dead himself now, had said what he had said, and then Aliand Ernie had seen what they had seen. There was no going back after that. Thatmoment wasn’t an ending to the awful events at Lord Deveaux’s estate; it was thestart of a whole new story, and now that Ernie had the truth of that night, it seemed itwas time for him to bow out, bent and broken on a dirty linoleum floor.He barely gave his own demise any thought at all. His life hadn’t flashed before hiseyes as he fell, and even now, as he lay prone on the floor, it all felt slightly ridiculousto him. He could sense his right leg jutting out to the side at an impossible angle, asshattered as his back, but he couldn’t turn his head to look. He was sure the wetnessseeping from his left ear was blood, but he couldn’t move a hand to wipe it away. Thetip of the index finger on his right hand was motionless against the cracked screen ofhis mobile phone. He wondered if the call had connected before the phone broke. Hewondered if Ali could hear him breathing his last.His vision was blurring now, images seemed overlaid and distorted. The blackness ofthe building rising above him held back a myriad ofshapes, butoccasionally theydrifted and bloomed out of the shadows, and if he looked long enough, hard enough,those shapes would be figures, and those figures would all become the same person.He thought of two more things before he died.Hethought of his dear friend, Ali, and his guilt at not telling her the truth of that nightwhen he had the chance. More than anything, he wished he had done that. Not to giveher closure, at least not anymore, but to give her a warning. Then, before darknessdrew down, and Ernie finally let go, another thought came to him as soft as a whisper.It was the same thought he’d had every day for the last fifteen months.I don’t believe in ghosts.It seemed a little stupid now.

About the Author

Russell Mardell is a novelist, playwright, and producer based in the South West of England. He is the author of several novels including Stone Bleeding, and the short story collection Silent Bombs Falling on Green Grass. Having studied film production in London he has also worked on various short films and is an associate producer on the award-winning documentary Rise: The Story of Augustines. He works at The Rocketship Bookshop in Salisbury, an independent bookshop for children and young people, and is also one of the founders of The Salisbury Literary Festival.

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