The Accident: The bestselling psychological thriller
‘A rollercoaster of a suspense novel with multiple twists’ Daily MailKEEPING THIS SECRET WAS KILLING HER…A gripping psychological thriller about the deadly secrets your children can keep …Sue Jackson has the perfect family but when her teenage daughter Charlotte deliberately steps in front of a bus and ends up in a coma she is forced to face a very dark reality.Retracing her daughter’s steps she finds a horrifying entry in Charlotte’s diary and is forced to head deep into Charlotte’s private world. In her hunt for evidence, Sue begins to mistrust everyone close to her daughter and she’s forced to look further, into the depths of her own past.Sue will do anything to protect her daughter. But what if she is the reason that Charlotte is in danger?Fast-paced, suspenseful, this is a book with more twists than a helter-skelter. Perfect for fans of THE GIRL ON THE TRAIN.
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C. L. TAYLOR
The Accident
Published by Avon an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street,
London, SE1 9GF
This ebook edition published by HarperCollinsPublishers in 2017
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2014
Copyright © C.L. Taylor 2014
Cover photographs © Arcangel/ Shutterstock
Cover design © Henry Steadman
C.L. Taylor 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: 9780007540037
Ebook Edition © April 2014 ISBN: 9780007542703
Version: 2017-11-22
‘The Missing has a delicious sense of foreboding from the first page, luring us into the heart of a family with terrible secrets and making us wait, with pounding hearts for the final, agonizing twist. Loved it.’ Fiona Barton
‘Black Narcissus for the Facebook generation, a clever exploration of how petty jealousies and misunderstandings can unravel even the tightest of friendships. Claustrophobic, tense and thrilling, a thrill-ride of a novel that keeps you guessing.’
Elizabeth Haynes
‘A gripping and disturbing psychological thriller.’
Clare Mackintosh
‘As with all her books, C. L. Taylor delivers real pace, and it’s a story that keeps calling the reader back – so much so that I read it from cover to cover in one day.’
Rachel Abbott
‘A dark and gripping read that engrossed me from start to finish.’
Mel Sherratt
‘Kept me guessing till the end.’
Sun
‘Haunting and heart-stoppingly creepy, The Lie is a gripping roller coaster of suspense.’ Sunday Express
‘5/5 stars – Spine-chilling!’
Woman Magazine
‘An excellent psychological thriller.’
Heat Magazine
‘Packed with twists and turns, this brilliantly tense thriller will get your blood pumping.’
Fabulous Magazine
‘Fast-paced, tense and atmospheric, a guaranteed bestseller.’
Mark Edwards
‘A real page-turner … creepy, horrifying and twisty. You have no idea which characters you can trust, and the result is intriguing, scary and extremely gripping.’
Julie Cohen
‘A compelling, addictive and wonderfully written tale. Can’t recommend it enough.’
Louise Douglas
For Chris Hall
22nd April 2012
Coma. There’s something innocuous about the word, soothing almost in the way it conjures up the image of a dreamless sleep. Only Charlotte doesn’t look as though she’s sleeping to me. There’s no soft heaviness to her closed eyelids. No curled fist pressed up against her temple. No warm breath escaping from her slightly parted lips. There is nothing peaceful at all about the way her body lies, prostrate, on the duvet-less bed, a clear tracheostomy tube snaking its way out of her neck, her chest polka-dotted with multicoloured electrodes.
The heart monitor in the corner of the room bleep-bleep-bleeps, marking the passage of time like a medical metronome and I close my eyes. If I concentrate hard enough I can transform the unnatural chirping into the reassuring tick-tick-tick of the grandfather clock in our living room. Fifteen years fall away in an instant and I am twenty-eight again, cradling baby Charlotte to my shoulder, her slumbering face pressed into the nook of my neck, her tiny heart out-beating mine, even in sleep. Back then it was so much easier to keep her safe.
