The Eight Year Lie
J.M. Hewitt
01.2022 г. · W. F. Howes Limited · Чете: Sophie Roberts
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Аудиокнига
8 ч 40 мин
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The Eight-Year Lie is a gripping thriller that will have you listening late into the night. Perfect for fans of Lisa Jewell and K.L. Slater.
I know they think I killed my husband. Because they think I've killed before.
Eight years ago, a girl I knew died. I try not to think too much about that time, about the person I used to be when that tragedy happened. It hurts too much. Besides, it's so far in the past. Now, I have a beautiful home and a committed husband. I should be looking to the future.
But then one day, my husband is found dead in the home we built together. The police seem convinced that I had something to do with it – it's always the wife, right? And it doesn't help that the police thought I had something to do with that girl's death, eight years ago, too.
When things seem like they can't get any worse, I arrive home to find an unwelcome visitor on my doorstep. Even though we were best friends once, it takes a moment for me to recognise her. Because she doesn't look like herself anymore. She looks like... me. She's even wearing my favourite perfume.
I can't help but wonder why she's here so soon after my husband's death. Coincidences happen. But in my bones, I know this isn't that.
I know they think I killed my husband. Because they think I've killed before.
Eight years ago, a girl I knew died. I try not to think too much about that time, about the person I used to be when that tragedy happened. It hurts too much. Besides, it's so far in the past. Now, I have a beautiful home and a committed husband. I should be looking to the future.
But then one day, my husband is found dead in the home we built together. The police seem convinced that I had something to do with it – it's always the wife, right? And it doesn't help that the police thought I had something to do with that girl's death, eight years ago, too.
When things seem like they can't get any worse, I arrive home to find an unwelcome visitor on my doorstep. Even though we were best friends once, it takes a moment for me to recognise her. Because she doesn't look like herself anymore. She looks like... me. She's even wearing my favourite perfume.
I can't help but wonder why she's here so soon after my husband's death. Coincidences happen. But in my bones, I know this isn't that.
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