Praise forDiane Chamberlain
âEmotional, complex and laced with suspense, this fascinating story is a brilliant read.â
âCloser
âAn excellent readâ
âThe Sun
âThis complex tale will stick with you forever.â
âNow
âA hugely addictive twist in the tale makes this a sizzling sofa read ⦠a deeply compelling and moving new novel.â
âHeat
âThis exquisite novel about love and friendship is written like a thriller ⦠you wonât want to put it down.â
âBella
âA bittersweet story about regret and hopeâ
âPublishers Weekly
âA brilliantly told thrillerâ
âWoman
âAn engaging and absorbing story thatâll have you racing through pages to finishâ
âPeopleâs Friend
âThis compelling mystery will have you on the edge of your seat.â
âInside Soap
âA fabulous thriller with plenty of surprisesâ
âStar
âEssential reading for Jodi Picoult fansâ
âDaily Mail âChamberlain skilfully ⦠plumbs the nature of crimes of the heart.â âPublishers Weekly
âSo full of unexpected twists youâll find yourself wanting to finish it in one sitting. Fans of Jodi Picoultâs style will love how Diane Chamberlain writes.â
âCandis
âThe plot is intriguing and haunting revelations will have you glued to the very end.â
âPeterborough Evening Telegraph
âI was drawn in from the first page and simply could not put it down until the last. I think I have found a new favourite author.â
âDaily Echo
â[A] gripping summer read thatâs full of twists and turnsâ5 starsâ
âWomanâs Own
âThe compelling story of three friends who are forced to question what it is to be a friend, mother and a sister.â
âSunday World
âA gripping novelâ
âThe Lady (online)
âDiane Chamberlain is a marvellously gifted author. Every book she writes is a gem.â
âLiterary Times
âA strong tale that deserves a comparison with Jodi Picoult for, as this builds, one does indeed wonder if all will come right in the end.â
âlovereading.co.uk
âI couldnât put it down.â
âBookseller
Also by Diane Chamberlain
Keeper of the Light
The Lost Daughter
The Bay at Midnight
Before the Storm
Secrets She Left Behind
The Lies We Told
Breaking the Silence
The Midwifeâs Confession
Brass Ring
The Shadow Wife
The Good Father
For Haseena and all the other waiting children
The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each otherâs life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.
âRichard Bach
THE AIR CONDITIONER IN HER AGING CAR WAS giving out, blowing warm, breath-stealing air into Ginaâs face. If she could have torn her concentration away from her mission for even a moment, she would have felt a pang of fear over what the repair of the air conditioner would cost her. Instead, she merely opened the car windows and let the hot, thick, salt breeze fill the interior. She took deep breaths, smelling the unfamiliar brininess in the air, so different from the scent of the Pacific. The humidity worked its way into her long hair, lifting it, tangling it, forming fine dark tendrils on her forehead. Another woman might have run her hands over her hair to smooth the flyaway strands. Gina did not care. After six days of driving, six nights of sleeping in the cramped quarters of the car, several quick showers stolen from fitness clubs to which she did not belong and eighteen cheap, fast-food meals, she was almost there. She was close enough to Kiss River to taste it in the air.
The bridge she was crossing was very long and straight and clogged with traffic. She should have expected that. After all, it was a Friday evening in late June and she was headed toward the Outer Banks of North Carolina, an area she supposed was now quite a tourist attraction. She might have trouble finding a room for the night. She hadnât thought of that. She was used to the Pacific Northwest, where the coastline was craggy and the water too cold for swimming, and where finding a room for the night was not ordinarily an impossible chore.
The cars were moving slowly enough to allow her to study the map she held flat against the steering wheel. Once she left the bridge, the traffic crawled for a mile or so past a school and a couple of strip malls, and then perhaps two-thirds of the cars turned right onto Highway 12. She turned left and entered an area the map identified as Southern Shores.
Through the open car windows, she could hear, but not see, the ocean on her right. The waves pounded the beach behind the eclectic mix of flat-topped houses, larger, newer homes and old beach cottages. In spite of the slow-moving stream of cars, the Outer Banks seemed open and wide and empty here. Not what she had expected from reading the diary. But the diary had not been about Southern Shores, and as she continued driving, live oaks and wild vegetation she did not recognize began to cradle the curving road. She was approaching the village of Duck, which sounded quaint and was probably expensive, and interested her not in the least. After Duck, she would pass through a place called Sanderling, and then through a wildlife sanctuary, and soon after that, she should see a sign marking the road to the Kiss River lighthouse. Although she knew she was miles from the lighthouse, she couldnât help but glance to the sky again and again, hoping to see the tower in the distance through the trees. Even though it was the tallest lighthouse in the country, she knew she could not possibly see it from where she was. That didnât stop her from looking, though.