The Good Girl: A Thrilling Suspense Novel from the Author of Local Woman Missing

Description: The Good Girl by Mary Kubica Inner-city art teacher Mia Dennett is taken hostage by her one-night stand, Colin Thatcher, who, instead of delivering her to his employers, hides her in a cabin in rural Minnesota to keep her safe from harm. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Publisher Description Over a million copies sold."A twisty, roller coaster ride of a debut. Fans of Gone Girl will embrace this equally evocative tale." --Lisa Gardner, #1 New York Times bestselling author"Ive been following her for the past few days. I know where she buys her groceries, where she has her dry cleaning done, where she works. I dont know the color of her eyes or what they look like when shes scared. But I will."One night, Mia Dennett enters a bar to meet her on-again, off-again boyfriend. But when he doesnt show, she unwisely leaves with an enigmatic stranger. At first Colin Thatcher seems like a safe one-night stand. But following Colin home will turn out to be the worst mistake of Mias life.When Colin decides to hide Mia in a secluded cabin in rural Minnesota instead of delivering her to his employers, Mias mother, Eve, and detective Gabe Hoffman will stop at nothing to find them. But no one could have predicted the emotional entanglements that eventually cause this familys world to shatter.An addictively suspenseful and tautly written thriller, The Good Girl is a propulsive debut that reveals how even in the perfect family, nothing is as it seems.Dont miss Mary Kubicas chilling upcoming novel, Shes Not Sorry, where an ICU nurse accidentally uncovers a patients frightening past...And look for the new editions of Pretty Baby, Dont You Cry, The Other Mrs. and Every Last Lie featuring brand new covers!More edge-of-your-seat thrillers by New York Times bestselling author Mary Kubica: Pretty BabyDont You CryEvery Last LieWhen the Lights Go OutLocal Woman MissingJust The Nicest CoupleThe Other Mrs.Shes not Sorry Author Biography Mary Kubica is a New York Times bestselling author of thrillers including The Good Girl, The Other Mrs., Local Woman Missing and Just the Nicest Couple. Her books have been translated into over thirty languages and have sold over two million copies worldwide. Her novels have been praised as "hypnotic" (People) and "thrilling and illuminating" (L.A. Times). She lives outside of Chicago with her husband and children. Review "Thrilling and illuminating... [Pretty Baby] raises the ante on the genre and announces the welcome second coming of a talent well worth watching." -LA Times "A hypnotic psychological thriller.... [Pretty Baby] builds to a stunning climax involving revelations you wont see coming." -People "A twisty, roller coaster ride of a debut. Fans of Gone Girl will embrace this equally evocative tale." -Lisa Gardner, #1 New York Times bestselling author "This isnt your typical thriller.... [It] practically has you holding your breath for all 300 pages." -Bustle.com "Single White Female on steroids.... If you havent read Mary Kubica yet, you need to start right this minute... This riveting psychological thriller had me turning the pages at warp speed." -Lisa Scottoline, New York Times bestselling author of Corrupted "Kubicas powerful debut...will encourage comparisons to Gone Girl." -Publishers Weekly, starred review "Psychologically rich and pulse pounding, The Good Girl had me hooked from the very first sentence and didnt let go until the final word." -Heather Gudenkauf, bestselling author of The Weight of Silence and Little Mercies "[Kubicas] masterful handling of plot makes The Good Girl hard to put down." -The Columbus Dispatch "The Good Girl has everything going for it. A fresh new style...the denouement will stun. I look forward to Kubicas next novel."-Florida Times-Union "A cleverly constructed suspense thriller."-Chicago Tribune, Printers Row Review Quote "Thrilling and illuminating... [Pretty Baby] raises the ante on the genre and announces the welcome second coming of a talent well worth watching." -LA Times Excerpt from Book EVE BEFORE Im sitting at the breakfast nook sipping from a mug of cocoa when the phone rings. Im lost in thought, staring out the back window at the lawn that now, in the throes of an early fall, abounds with leaves. Theyre dead mostly, some still clinging lifelessly to the trees. Its late afternoon. The sky is overcast, the temperatures doing a nosedive into the forties and fifties. Im not ready for this, I think, wondering where in the world the time has gone. Seems like just yesterday we were welcoming spring and then, moments later, summer. The phone startles me and Im certain its a telemarketer, so I dont initially bother to rise from my perch. I relish the last few hours of silence I have before James comes thundering through the front doors and intrudes upon my world, and the last thing I want to do is waste precious minutes on some telemarketers sales pitch that Im certain to refuse. The irritating noise of the phone stops and then starts again. I answer it for no other reason than to make it stop. "Hello?" I ask in a vexed tone, standing now in the center of the kitchen, one hip pressed against the island. "Mrs. Dennett?" the woman asks. I consider for a moment telling her that shes got the wrong number, or ending her pitch right there with a simple not interested. "This is she." "Mrs. Dennett, this is Ayanna Jackson." Ive heard the name before. Ive never met her, but shes been a constant in Mias life for over a year now. How many times have I heard Mia say her name: Ayanna and I did this...Ayanna and I did that.... She is explaining how she knows Mia, how the two of them teach together at the alternative high school in the city. "I hope Im not interrupting anything," she says. I catch my breath. "Oh, no, Ayanna, I just walked in the door," I lie. Mia will be twenty-five in just a month: October 31st. She was born on Halloween and so I assume Ayanna has called about this. She wants to plan a party--a surprise party?--for my daughter. "Mrs. Dennett, Mia didnt show up for work today," she says. This isnt what I expect to hear. It takes a moment to regroup. "Well, she must be sick," I respond. My first thought is to cover for my daughter; she must have a viable explanation why she didnt go to work or call in her absence. My daughter is a free spirit, yes, but also reliable. "You havent heard from her?" "No," I say, but this isnt unusual. We go days, sometimes weeks, without speaking. Since the invention of email, our best form of communication has become passing along trivial forwards. "I tried calling her at home but theres no answer." "Did you leave a message?" "Several." "And she hasnt called back?" "No." Im listening only halfheartedly to the woman on the other end of the line. I stare out the window, watching the neighbors children shake a flimsy tree so that the remaining leaves fall down upon them. The children are my clock; when they appear in the backyard I know that its late afternoon, school is through. When they disappear inside again its time to start dinner. "Her cell phone?" "It goes straight to voice mail." "Did you--" "I left a message." "Youre certain she didnt call in today?" "Administration never heard from her." Im worried that Mia will get in trouble. Im worried that she will be fired. The fact that she might already be in trouble has yet to cross my mind. "I hope this hasnt caused too much of a problem." Ayanna explains that Mias first-period students didnt inform anyone of the teachers absence and it wasnt until second period that word finally leaked out: Ms. Dennett wasnt here today and there wasnt a sub. The principal went down to keep order until a substitute could be called in; he found gang graffiti scribbled across the walls with Mias overpriced art supplies, the ones she bought herself when the administration said no. "Mrs. Dennett, dont you think its odd?" she asks. "This isnt like Mia." "Oh, Ayanna, Im certain she has a good excuse." "Such as?" she asks. "Ill call the hospitals. Theres a number in her area--" "Ive done that." "Then her friends," I say, but I dont know any of Mias friends. Ive heard names in passing, such as Ayanna and Lauren and I know theres a Zimbabwean on a student visa whos about to be sent back and Mia thinks its completely unfair. But I dont know them, and last names or contact information are hard to find. "Ive done that." "Shell show up, Ayanna. This is all just a misunderstanding. There could be a million reasons for this." "Mrs. Dennett," Ayanna says and its then that it hits me: something is wrong. It hits me in the stomach and the first thought I have is myself seven or eight months pregnant with Mia and her stalwart limbs kicking and punching so hard that tiny feet and hands emerge in shapes through my skin. I pull out a barstool and sit at the kitchen island and think to myself that before I know it, Mia will be twenty-five and I havent so much as thought of a gift. I havent proposed a party or suggested that all of us, James and Grace and Mia and me, make reservations for an elegant dinner in the city. "What do you suggest we do, then?" I ask. Theres a sigh on the other end of the line. "I was hoping youd tell me Mia was with you," she says. GABE BEFORE Its dark by the time I pull up to the house. Light pours from the windows of the English Tudor home and onto the tree-lined street. I can see a collection of people hovering inside, waiting for me. Theres the judge, pacing, and Mrs. Dennett perched on the edge of an upholstered seat, sipping from a glass of something that appears to be alcoholic. There are uniformed officers and another woman, a brunette, who peers out the front window as I come to a sluggish halt in the street, delaying my grand entrance. The Dennetts are like any other family along Chicagos North Shore, a string of suburbs that lines Lake Michigan to the north of the city. Theyre filthy rich. Its no wonder that Im procrastinating in the front seat of my car when I should be making my way up to the massive home with the clout Ive been led to believe I carry. I think of the sergeants words before assigning the case to me: Dont fuck this one up. I eye the stately home from the safety and warmth of my dilapidated car. From the outside its not as colossal as I envision the interior to be. It has all the old-world charm an English Tudor has to offer: half-timbering and narrow windows and a steep sloping roof. It reminds me of a medieval castle. Though Ive been strictly warned to keep it under wraps, Im supposed to feel privileged that the sergeant assigned this high-profile case to me. And yet, for some reason, I dont. I make my way up to the front door, cutting across the lawn to the sidewalk that leads me up two steps, and knock. Its cold. I thrust my hands into my pockets to keep them warm while I wait. I feel ridiculously underdressed in my street clothes--khaki pants and a polo shirt that Ive hidden beneath a leather jacket--when Im greeted by one of the most influential justices of the peace in the county. "Judge Dennett," I say, allowing myself inside. I conduct myself with more authority than I feel I have, displaying traces of self-confidence that I must keep stored somewhere safe for moments like this. Judge Dennett is a considerable man in size and power. Screw this one up and Ill be out of a job, best-case scenario. Mrs. Dennett rises from the chair. I tell her in my most refined voice, "Please, sit," and the other woman, Grace Dennett, I assume, from my preliminary research--a younger woman, likely in her twenties or early thirties--meets Judge Dennett and me in the place where the foyer ends and the living room begins. "Detective Gabe Hoffman," I say, without the pleasantries an introduction might expect. I dont smile; I dont offer to shake hands. The girl says that she is in fact Grace, whom I know from my earlier legwork to be a senior associate at the law firm of Dalton & Meyers. But it takes nothing more than intuition to know from the get-go that I dont like her; theres an air of superiority that surrounds her, a looking down on my blue-collar clothing and a cynicism in her voice that gives me the willies. Mrs. Dennett speaks, her voice still carrying a strong British accent, though I know, from my previous fact-finding expedition, that shes been in the United States since she was eighteen. She seems panicked. Thats my first inclination. Her voice is high-pitched, her fingers fidgeting with anything that comes within reach. "My daughter is missing, Detective," she sputters. "Her friends havent seen her. Havent spoken to her. Ive been calling her cell phone, leaving messages." She chokes on her words, trying desperately not to cry. "I went to her apartment to see if she was there," she says, then admits, "I drove all the way there and the landlord wouldnt let me in." Mrs. Dennett is a breathtaking woman. I cant help but stare at the way her long blond hair falls clumsily over the conspicuous hint of cleavage that pokes through her blouse, where shes left the top button undone. Ive seen pictures before of Mrs. Dennett, standing beside her husband on the courthouse steps. But the photos do nothing Details ISBN0778317765 Author Mary Kubica Short Title GOOD GIRL Publisher Mira Books Language English ISBN-10 0778317765 ISBN-13 9780778317760 Media Book Format Paperback DEWEY 813.6 Subtitle A Thrilling Suspense Novel from the Author of Local Woman Missing Edition Description First Time Trade ed. Imprint Mira Books Audience General Year 2024 Pages 400 Publication Date 2024-03-05 UK Release Date 2015-02-24 We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:160304181;

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