Excerpts-

• From the cover CHAPTER
  
  ONE
  
  Death does not suit me. I wear it like a borrowed coat; it slips off my shoulders and trails in the dirt. It is ill fitting. Uncomfortable.
  
  I want to shrug it off; to throw it in the cupboard and take back my well-tailored clothes. I didn't want to leave my old life, but I'm hopeful for my next one-hopeful I can become someone beautiful and vibrant. For now, I am trapped.
  
  Between lives.
  
  In limbo.
  
  They say sudden good-byes are easier. Less painful. They're wrong. Any pain saved from the lingering good-byes of a drawn-out illness is offset by the horror of a life stolen without notice. A life taken violently. On the day of my death I walked the tightrope between two worlds, the safety net in tatters beneath me. This way safety; that way danger.
  
  I stepped.
  
  I died.
  
  We used to joke about dying-when we were young enough, still vital enough, for death to be something that happened to other people.
  
  "Who do you think'll go first?" you said, one night when the wine had run dry and we lay by the electric fire in my rented Balham flat. An idle hand, stroking my thigh, softened your words. I was quick to answer.
  
  "You, of course."
  
  You aimed a cushion at my head.
  
  We'd been together a month; enjoying each other's bodies, talking about the future as though it belonged to someone else. No commitment, no promises-just possibilities.
  
  "Women live longer." I grinned. "It's a well-known fact. Genetic. Survival of the fittest. Men can't cope on their own."
  
  You grew serious. Cupped my face in your hand and made me look at you. Your eyes were black in the half-light; the bars of the fire reflected in your pupils. "It's true."
  
  I moved to kiss you but your fingers held me still; pressure on my chin as your thumb pushed against bone.
  
  "If anything happened to you, I don't know what I'd do."
  
  The briefest chill, despite the fierce heat from the fire. Footsteps on my grave.
  
  "Give over."
  
  "I'd die, too," you insisted.
  
  I put a stop to your youthful dramatics then, reaching to push aside your hand and free my chin. Keeping my fingers tangled with yours, so the rejection didn't sting. Kissing you, softly at first, then harder, until you rolled backward, and I was lying on top of you, my hair curtaining our faces.
  
  You would die for me.
  
  Our relationship was young; a spark that could be snuffed out as easily as coaxed into flames. I couldn't have known you'd stop loving me; that I'd stop loving you. I couldn't help but be flattered by the depth of your feeling, the intensity in your eyes.
  
  You would die for me, and in that moment, I thought I might die for you, too.
  
  I just never thought either of us would have to.
  
  CHAPTER
  
  TWO
  
  Anna
  
  Ella is eight weeks old. Her eyes are closed, long dark lashes brushing apple cheeks that move up and down as she feeds. One tiny hand splays across my breast like a starfish. I sit, pinned to the sofa, and think of all the things I could be doing while she feeds. Reading. Watching television. An online food shop.
  
  Not today.
  
  Today is not a day for the ordinary.
  
  I watch my daughter, and after a while her lashes lift and she fixes navy eyes, solemn and trusting, on me. Her pupils are deep pools of unconditional love, my reflection small but unwavering.
  
  Ella's sucking slows. We gaze at each other, and I think how motherhood is the best-kept...

About the Author-

• CLARE MACKINTOSH is an award-winning New York Times and international bestselling author. She spent twelve years on the police force in England and has written for the Guardian, Good Housekeeping, and other publications. A columnist for Cotswold Life, she is the founder of Chipping Norton Literary Festival and lives in North Wales with her family. She is the author of I See You and I Let You Go.

Reviews-

• 

  February 5, 2018
  This taut, emotionally complex thriller from British author Mackintosh (I See You) centers on 26-year-old new mother Anna Johnson. Anna’s father, Tom, jumped off the cliff at Beachy Head, England; seven months later, Anna’s mother, Caroline, followed suit. The coroner’s suicide decrees have always bothered Anna, and her doubts only deepen when, on the first anniversary of Caroline’s death, someone sends a card that reads, “Suicide? Think again.” Anna’s partner, Mark Hemmings, dismisses the message as a cruel joke, but Anna becomes convinced that Caroline was murdered. Her theory captures the interest of Murray Mackenzie, a retired detective turned civilian desk clerk at the Lower Meads police station, but when Murray begins an unofficial investigation and Anna starts receiving anonymous threats, she must decide whether the truth means more than her baby’s safety. Mackintosh cleverly subverts readers’ expectations while capitalizing on the complicated nature of parent-child relationships. Shocking twists share the page with meditations on love, loss, marriage, and mental illness, and though not every revelation feels earned, the overall story amply satisfies. Author tour. Agent: Sheila Crowley, Curtis Brown (U.K.).

• Deception is the theme of this thriller, narrated in soft, gentle tones by Gemma Whelan. She draws listeners into a haunting story about Anna, who is frozen in her grief after the suicides of her parents. Then, she receives two shocking messages: "Suicide, think again." and "Don't involve the police." She begins asking questions, and questions are also asked by Murray Mackenzie, formerly CID, as he investigates the couple's deaths. Using subtle shifts in tone and pacing, Whelan shifts between characters and narrative. Brief pauses separate the chapters, which shift in point of view, moving between Anna, her parents, and Mackenzie. Whelan's steady reading follows the convoluted story, which is interspersed with backstories and flashbacks that are sometimes disorienting and most definitely filled with hurtful lies. M.B.K. © AudioFile 2018, Portland, Maine

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