Monday, 14 May 2018

Guilt






Your sister. Her secret. The betrayal.

There is no bond greater than blood . . .

When the body of a woman is found stabbed to death, the blame falls to her twin sister. But who killed who? And which one is now the woman behind bars?

Zara and Miranda have always supported each other. But then Zara meets Seb, and everything changes. Handsome, charismatic and dangerous, Seb threatens to tear the sisters’ lives apart – but is he really the one to blame? Or are deeper resentments simmering beneath the surface that the sisters must face up to?

As the sisters’ relationship is stretched to the brink, a traumatic incident in Seb’s past begins to rear its head and soon all three are locked in a psychological battle that will leave someone dead. The question is, who?

Claustrophobic and compelling, Amanda Robson is back in a knock-out thriller perfect for fans of B.A. Paris and Paula Hawkins

Extract:

Miranda has been in bed all weekend. I’ve been into her room a few times to check up on her and find out how she is feeling. All she says is that she’s tired, that she wants to catch up on her sleep.



It is so unlike Miranda to be tired. She usually has so much energy. In the last ten years, as far as I know, she hasn’t had a day off work. Over the weekend while she has been incapacitated, Sebastian and I have been all over town. Saturday night supper at Luigi’s. Sunday lunch at Arnolfini; afterwards wandering about holding hands, admiring the artwork. But all our activities haven’t assuaged my worry. So on Sunday evening, getting ready for bed, I know Sebastian and I need to discuss this.



‘What’s the matter with her? This isn’t like her. Do you think she’s really ill? Do you think she’s all right?’ I ask as I struggle to pull off my skin-tight jeans.



His face solidifies. ‘I was waiting for her to tell you herself,’ he says. ‘She’s low. She’s in big trouble at work.’



His words cut into me like electricity. Miranda Cunningham. Big trouble at work. Miranda has always taken her career so seriously.



My jeans are finally on the floor. I sit on the edge of the bed in my top and knickers, looking across at him, wide-eyed.



‘But she loves her job. What’s happened?’ I stutter.

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