Don't Trust Her

Book : Writing as Elizabeth Boles

by Amy Boyles

Genres: Domestic Thrillers; Mystery; Horror

Synopsis

It all starts with a little blackmail...

The blackmail letter reads I know what you’ve done.

Court Lane has worked hard to create her fairytale life—loving and trusting husband, well-adjusted kids, safe neighborhood. So when the letter arrives at her doorstep, the message is clear—pay up or have your world destroyed. With nowhere to turn, Court succumbs to the blackmailer’s demands. But she can’t forget about the letter. It haunts her.  

A girls’ trip offers the perfect distraction. She and her three closest friends head to a remote cabin in the Appalachians for a weekend full of massages and wine. But the fun comes to an abrupt end when an unexpected ice storm strands them without electricity and phones. 

And then one friend never wakes up.

It looks like an accident. But as the storm rages outside cutting off any chance of escape, and secrets start to spill—secrets related to the blackmail letter—Court discovers her friends aren’t who she thinks they are. 

And maybe, just maybe, her friend didn’t die accidentally at all. 

Perhaps she was murdered. 

Now, Court must decide who's lying, who's telling the truth, and who can be trusted. Otherwise, she could be the next to die. 
After all, best friends can be killer.

Release date: June 6, 2021

Publisher: LADYBUGBOOKS LLC

Sample

Chapter 1

The house wants me dead.

It is an angry red beast exploding with fire and brimstone.

Thick smoke rolls into my lungs, coating it like cotton. My throat is charred. Every breath burns. Water sluices down my eyes, blurring my vision, but not enough that I can’t make out the burning cabin.

I am standing in it, after all.

The hairs on my forearms are gone, eaten by the blaze. My shoulder throbs, and a rivulet of blood runs from bicep to wrist, creating a crust that coats my skin like paint.

It’s from where the knife sliced me open. The knife that she held, that she pointed at me.

I race toward the front door as flames snap at my ankles, extending their red tongues at my clothing, licking at the fabric, wanting to gobble it up.

I’m outside now, and the cold hits me hard, stealing the breath from me. I stumble on the ice, landing atop my knees. Pain lances up my spine, and I bite back a sob. Crystal chunks bite into my palms, shredding the already raw skin.

I fall and slide forward, slamming into boots, dark boots. I blink. A red light winks at me. It’s on a car—a police car.

Then I’m up, on my feet. A man pulls me to look at him. His face swims like I’m gazing through a window that rain is streaming down. Everything is wavy, off.

“Please,” I cry. “Help me. I can’t go back. Get me away from there.”

I scrabble at his clothes, willing him to take me as far away from the cabin as he can.

He gently pushes me back. His eyes are kind, soft—familiar, even. He’s here to save me. Hope buoys in my chest.

Then he asks, “Is there anyone else in there?”

I just want to be gone, as far from here as possible, but I can’t. There’s something unfinished, a deed that needs to be set right.

“Yes,” I croak. “There’s another person inside. But she’s already dead.”