Don’t Trust Me: The best psychological thriller debut you will read in 2018
Does Jessica know what the truth is?A stunning psychological debut with a shocking twistWhen she arrives at work to discover every trace of the company she was working for has disappeared, Jessica’s life spirals into freefall.Her romance with Michael, a celebrated criminologist is already in trouble. He is sick of her unpredictable behaviour and is convinced she is a fantasist. When his flat is burgled and precious belongings that remind him of his dead wife are stolen, he blames her.Forced to prove her innocence, Jessica sets out to unravel the events of the last few months. But when she stumbles on a dead body, the lies, deceptions and betrayals that have dogged her whole life come back to haunt her.Can anybody trust her?
Читать Don’t Trust Me: The best psychological thriller debut you will read in 2018 онлайн беплатно
Killer Reads an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by Killer Reads 2018
Copyright © Joss Stirling 2018
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2018.
Cover photograph © Shutterstock.com
Joss Stirling asserts the moral right
to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for 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,
downloaded, 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: 9780008278656
Ebook Edition © February 2018 ISBN: 9780008278649
Version 2018-03-12
For Kate Bradley
Kate, you win the prize for Most Enthusiastic Editor. It’s been a pleasure working with you and the team at Harper Fiction. I hope you like your book!
‘human kind
Cannot bear very much reality.’
(T. S. Eliot, ‘Burnt Norton’, The Four Quartets)
‘She is brave and strong and broken all at once. As she speaks it is as if her existence is no longer real to her in itself, more like a living epitaph to a life that was.’
(Anna Funder, Stasiland)
Table of Contents
The door closed on the man lying broken at the foot of the stairs. Life hadn’t yet left him – a twitch of a finger, a shallow lift of the ribs, betraying that there was hope if help got there in time.
But it wouldn’t, would it?
Walking with unhurried steps down the suburban street despite a racing heart, the killer felt that congratulations were in order. Thinking fast on your feet was a trait to be regarded with a certain pride. It had come into its own just a short time ago when it became clear something had to be done. His madness had to be stopped.
The act was self-defence really, when you thought about it.
Oh yes, there were plenty of excuses to be made.
A wild glee bubbled up which had to be hidden from other people out and about enjoying a London summer’s evening. An innocent face was such an asset. Glimpsing the families lingering in shadowy gardens, citronella candles lit to deter the mosquitoes, memories of childhood games stirred. Candlestick in the conservatory by Mrs Peacock? No, no, that was a stab in the dark. Rope in the library, Professor Plum? Really, was that the best you could do? Lead pipe in the kitchen, Colonel Mustard? Warmer. The police would be left guessing like inept players when they found him – that’s if they even suspected a crime had taken place. Underestimated by everyone, the killer knew how not to leave too many traces. The scene was staged correctly. Justice done. Time to fade into the background, just one among the many passers-by. Just look at them. Any one of them, under the right conditions, might also take a cast-iron pan to the back of someone’s head and end a life.
Jessica, 7th August 2016
‘I’m leaving.’
We have barely just walked through the door when Michael makes his declaration. I’m still standing in my holiday T-shirt and shorts, cradling the duty-free bought at the end of our week in Minorca. Our bedroom is scattered with a week’s worth of dirty clothes and he is already repacking his suitcase.
‘What? Leaving leaving, or just leaving?’ I ask, mesmerised as he transfers ironed shirts from the wardrobe to his carry-on. It’s like he’s become a whole different person after the holiday wear got dumped. Back to business. Item one: deal with errant girlfriend.
He pauses, hand arrested in choosing the right tie. ‘I’ll stay overnight at Gatwick. I don’t want to disturb you by having a taxi fetch me at five.’
And I’m not disturbed now with this sudden departure? ‘Oh, so just leaving. I see. I thought, after… you know… it might be hasta la vista, baby.’ I give a hiccup of laughter and unscrew the top of the lime-green liqueur I bought on impulse at the airport. I take a swig.
