Behind Her Eyes: The Sunday Times #1 best selling psychological thriller
Don’t Trust This BookDon’t Trust These PeopleDon’t Trust YourselfAnd whatever you do, DON’T give away that ending…Sunday Times bestseller Behind Her Eyes has been called the new Girl on the Train and Gone Girl. This is one psychological thriller you will not want to miss.‘One of the biggest thrillers of 2017’ RED MAGAZINELouiseSince her husband walked out, Louise has made her son her world, supporting them both with her part-time job. But all that changes when she meets…DavidYoung, successful and charming – Louise cannot believe a man like him would look at her twice let alone be attracted to her. But that all comes to a grinding halt when she meets his wife…AdeleBeautiful, elegant and sweet – Louise's new friend seems perfect in every way. As she becomes obsessed by this flawless couple, entangled in the intricate web of their marriage, they each, in turn, reach out to her.But only when she gets to know them both does she begin to see the cracks… Is David really is the man she thought she knew and is Adele as vulnerable as she appears?Just what terrible secrets are they both hiding and how far will they go to keep them?‘Fully realized characters, peerless writing, a tank of a plot that sustains the suspense right to the end, and a whammy of a finale. It takes a lot to catch me out, but this one did. It'll get you too…’ Joanne Harris
Читать Behind Her Eyes: The Sunday Times #1 best selling psychological thriller онлайн беплатно
Behind Her Eyes
Sarah Pinborough
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London, SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2017
Copyright © Sarah Pinborough 2017
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2017
Sarah Pinborough asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008131999
Ebook Edition © January 2017 ISBN: 9780008131982
Version: 2017-11-02
‘Set to be one of the most talked-about books of 2017’
GOOD HOUSEKEEPING
‘Fantastically creepy’
GUARDIAN
‘Original and compelling,
this is the very definition of a page-turner’
SUN
‘In a really crowded thriller market,
Behind Her Eyes leaves its competition
trailing in the dust’
RED
‘Everyone will be talking about this book’
STYLIST
For Tasha,
Words just don’t cover it. All I can say is thanks for everything and the drinks are on me.
Three can keep a secret if two are dead.
Benjamin Franklin
Table of Contents
Extract from CROSS HER HEART
Pinch myself and say I AM AWAKE once an hour.
Look at my hands. Count my fingers.
Look at clock (or watch), look away, look back.
Stay calm and focused.
Think of a door.
It was nearly light when it was finally done. A streaky grey wash across the canvas of sky. Dry leaves and mud clung to his jeans, and his weak body ached as his sweat cooled in the damp, chill air. A thing had been done that could not be undone. A terrible necessary act. An ending and a beginning now knotted up for ever. He expected the hues of the world to change to reflect that, but the earth and heavens remained the same muted shades, and there was no tremble of anger from the trees. No weeping whisper of wind. No siren wailed in the distance. The woods were just the woods, and the dirt was just the dirt. He let out a long breath and it felt surprisingly good. Clean. A new dawn. A new day.
He walked in silence towards the remains of the house in the distance. He didn’t look back.
There’s still mud under my fingernails when David finally comes home. I can feel it stinging against my raw skin, deep under the beds. My stomach twists, wringing fresh nerves out as the front door shuts, and for a moment we just look at each other from opposite ends of the long corridor of our new Victorian house, a tract of perfectly polished wood between us, before he turns, swaying slightly, towards the sitting room. I take a deep breath and join him, flinching at each of the hard beats of my heels against the floorboards. I must not be afraid. I need to repair this. We need to repair this.
‘I’ve cooked dinner,’ I say, trying not to sound too needy. ‘Only a stroganoff. It can keep until tomorrow if you’ve already eaten.’
He’s facing away from me, staring at our bookshelves that the unpackers have filled from the boxes. I try not to think about how long he’s been gone. I’ve cleaned up the broken glass, swept and scrubbed the floor, and dealt with the garden. All evidence of earlier rage has been removed. I rinsed my mouth out after every glass of wine I drank in his absence so he won’t smell it on me. He doesn’t like me to drink. Only ever a glass or two in company. Never alone. But tonight I couldn’t help it.
Even if I haven’t entirely got the dirt out from under my nails, I’ve showered and changed into a powder blue dress and matching heels, and put make-up on. No trace of tears and fighting. I want us to wash it all away. This is our fresh start. Our new beginning. It has to be.
