Missing Pieces. Heather GudenkaufЧитать онлайн книгу.
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‘Fans of Jodi Picoult will devour this great thriller.’
Red Magazine
‘An action packed thriller … Gudenkauf’s best book yet!’ Mary Kubica, bestselling author of The Good Girl
‘It’s totally gripping …’ Marie Claire
‘Brilliantly constructed, this will have you gripped until the last page …’ Closer
‘Deeply moving and lyrical … it will haunt you all summer’
Company
5 stars ‘Gripping and moving’ Heat
‘Tension builds as family secrets tumble from the closet’
Woman & Home
‘Set to become a book group staple’ The Guardian
‘Deeply moving and exquisitely lyrical, this is
a powerhouse of a debut novel.’ Tess Gerritsen, No. 1 Sunday Times bestselling author
‘Heart-pounding suspense and a compelling family drama come together to create a story you won’t be able to put down. You’ll stay up all night long reading. I did!’ Diane Chamberlain, bestselling author of The Midwife’s Confession
‘A great thriller. It will appeal to fans of Jodi Picoult.’
Radio Times
‘A real page-turner’ Woman’s Own
HEATHER GUDENKAUF is the critically acclaimed and New York Times bestselling author of The Weight of Silence, These Things Hidden, One Breath Away and Little Mercies. Her debut novel, The Weight of Silence was picked for The TV Bookclub. She lives in Iowa with her family.
Read more about Heather and her novels at www.HeatherGudenkauf.com
Missing Pieces
Heather Gudenkauf
For Marianne Merola—my agent, mentor and friend—there since the beginning of this amazing journey
Contents
1985
LYDIA GAZED ABSENTMINDEDLY outside the kitchen window, the bright May sunshine glinting off the dew-glazed sweet-potato vine that cascaded from the window box just beyond the screen. It was barely seven thirty, and fifteen-year-old Jack and eleven-year-old Amy were already on the bus, making the forty-minute ride to school. Their last day before summer vacation began. She’d have to make a special supper to celebrate the occasion. Waffles topped with strawberries and freshly whipped cream, lemonade garnished with mint snipped from the windowsill herb garden.
Outside, Grey, their pewter-eyed silver Lab, began barking. A relaxed, friendly yapping. Lydia leaned in, scanning the yard for the source of Grey’s excitement. From her vantage point, the farmyard was deserted. John’s truck was still gone and wouldn’t return until after six. The bedsheets that she had forgotten on the clothesline overnight flapped languidly in the mild morning breeze. The gravel road that wound its way up to the main highway was empty, no telltale dust announcing the arrival of a visitor. Someone could have come by way of the old mud road, but few dared to, for fear their tires would become stuck in the mire brought along by the early-summer rain. Lydia cocked her ear toward the window; Grey’s barking was replaced by