The American Girl: A disturbing and twisty psychological thriller
From a bright new talent comes a twisting psychological thriller with a shocking conclusion, perfect for fans of Ruth Ware, B.A. Paris and Helen Fields.A MISSING FAMILYBarefoot, bloodied, with no memory of what has happened to her – Quinn Perkins stumbles out of the woods in France and discovers that her exchange family have mysteriously disappeared.A SMALL TOWN SEEKING REVENGEJournalist Molly Swift is drawn to the mystery and prepared to do anything to learn the truth, including lying to get close to Quinn. But when a shocking discovery sparks fury in the town, Quinn is arrested for murder.DARK SECRETS DRAGGED INTO THE LIGHTAs a trial by media ensues, Molly is left to unravel the town’s disturbing past and clear Quinn’s name – but is she really innocent? Or is she a cunning killer intent on getting away with murder?
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Killer Reads
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First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2016
Copyright © Kate Horsley 2016
Cover layout © HarperCollinsPublishers 2016
Cover design © Diahann Sturge
Text artwork © dimitris_k/Shutterstock.com
Kate Horsley 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 is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, living or dead, real events, businesses, organizations and localities are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. All names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.
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Ebook Edition © SEPTEMBER 2016 ISBN: 9780008208370
Version: 2016-08-09
To my family
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Quinn Perkins
Molly Swift
Acknowledgments
Further Reading
About the Author
About the Publisher
AUGUST 5, 2015
Video Diary: Session 6
[Quinn, a girl of seventeen, sits on the edge of a hospital bed wearing a white gown. As she talks, her bare legs kick the frame of the bed and monitors beep softly in the background]
You ever have one of those Magic 8 Balls as a kid? Yeah, pretty retro, I know. I remember asking mine if Adam Epstein was planning on taking me to senior prom. It said, Don’t count on it, so I sat on my little pink bed with the daisy-pattern comforter and shook it again and again until I got the answer I wanted.
Um, my mind keeps circling. Back to that Magic 8 Ball. See, if I can remember those details—my room, the pattern on my comforter—then why can’t I remember all the other things that are so much more important? The therapist who gave me this camera told me to keep a diary. He gave me some exercises and helpful advice, too: “the mind is a mysterious place” kind of thing. But in the end, I guess, he found it just as frustrating trying to get inside my head as I do. Everyone seems to.
[Quinn moves closer to the camera and stares into it]
I’m that 8 Ball, y’know. Shake me once—one answer bubbles to the surface. Shake me twice—I say something different. Might not be the thing you want to hear, though. I can’t help it. All those sharp little shards inside me could be answers, but they’ve come loose. Now I see them in fragments that don’t make any more sense than my nightmares do.
