Still Here

by Amy Stuart

Genres: Small Town & Rural; Female Sleuths; Suspense

Synopsis

From the internationally bestselling author of Still Mine and Still Water comes a “powerful, atmospheric, perfectly plotted thriller” (Samantha M. Bailey, #1 bestselling author of Woman on the Edge) featuring a private investigator who is on the hunt for two missing persons but finds herself being hunted instead. Malcolm is gone. Disappeared. And no one knows where or why. His colleague and fellow private investigator, Clare, is certain she can find him, but when she arrives in the oceanside city where he last lived and starts digging around, she discoveres that not only is Malcolm gone without a trace, but so is his wife, Zoe. Everyone who knew the perfect couple sees Malcolm as the prime suspect in his wife’s disappearance, but Clare is certain there’s something darker at play. Something that has to do with Zoe’s family business and the murder of her father years ago. As Clare pulls back the layers, she discovers secrets the entire community is desperately trying to hide. As for Malcolm, his past is far more sinister than Clare could ever have imagined. As she searches for the man who helped her build her career, Clare discovers that he may not be innocent after all and many women are in grave danger. And she is among them. From the “reigning queen of Canadian thrillerdom” Still Here is a “stay-up-past-your-bedtime page-turner” ( Reader’s Digest) that will haunt you long after you put it down.

Release date: August 11, 2020

Publisher: Gallery Books

Print pages: 320

Sample

Chapter 1

Clare blinks and pats at the back of her head. Warmth. She looks down at her fingertips, red with her own blood.

Strange, she thinks. I feel no pain.

The room takes shape. She sits in an empty bathtub, clothes on. The bathtub is in the center of the room. This bathroom: airy, too big, everything white, an open shower. The window over the vanity looks out to a sharp blue sky. Too bright. Clare shifts her position and cranes to check behind her. The pain comes, her skull throbbing.

Yes, Clare thinks. This place. Of course. I know where I am.

The bathroom door is closed. Clare leans back against the tub and closes her eyes to stave off the dizzy spell. She remembers. It was a strike to the head.

Voices outside the bathroom door. Clare can’t decipher how many. She works to pull herself up so she is sitting on the edge of the bathtub. Two. A man and a woman. The man’s voice is so acutely familiar that it brings a stabbing pain to Clare’s chest. He is here. Of course he is here. Of course they are here together. A small laugh escapes her. This is what you get, Clare thinks. After everything that’s happened, everything you’ve done, this is how it ends.

The bathroom door cracks open. Clare stands, still in the bathtub. She must steady herself. She must hold straight.

Clare, he says, pressing through the half-open door. Clare?

Clare squeezes her eyes closed, then pops them open to regain her focus. He is smiling too kindly. He holds a gun loose in one hand.

Are you hurt? he asks. I didn’t mean to hurt you.

Does he look different? He’s grown a beard, put on some weight. There’s a deadness in his gaze. He steps forward and reaches out to take her by the arm. When Clare recoils, he frowns playfully.

Don’t do that, Clare. You’ve got nowhere to go. This is finally over. I’m here.

It comes back to Clare now. This morning, dawn. She was alone. And then he was there.

Oh wow, he says, reaching this time for her hair. You’re still bleeding.

Don’t touch me, Clare says, a hiss.

Come on, he says. This doesn’t have to end terribly, does it?

Who else is here? Clare asks. Who’s here with you?

But she need not ask. She knows. The blood drips from her hair and travels in a stream down her spine. It takes all her effort not to sway. Clare closes her eyes again. She must find a way out.

You owe me the truth, he says. Don’t I deserve the truth?

The truth? Clare doesn’t answer him. She knows she is in danger. They will not let her out of here alive. She needs to focus. Focus. But she is dizzy. Her thoughts churn too quickly. The truth. He smiles at her expectantly. Anger roils in her instead of fear. Anger that she didn’t grasp the lies she was told, for trusting those she should never have trusted. Anger at herself for opening that door when she did.