The Closer You Get

Product Description

They had the perfect plan to start a new life together…before it all went horribly wrong.

A new twisting novel of psychological suspense from the acclaimed author of The Girl I Used to Be.

Coworkers Ruby and Harry are in love—but they’re married to other people. They decide to tell their spouses that their marriages are over and to start a new life together. Ruby has wanted to leave her controlling husband for a while, so she tells him she’s leaving and waits at the hotel where she and Harry are to meet. But Harry never shows up.

Suddenly, Ruby has lost everything. Harry won’t answer her calls, and she’s fired from her job. She finds a cheap apartment in a run-down part of town, all the while wondering what happened to Harry.

Just as Ruby thinks she’s hit rock bottom, strange and menacing things start to happen—someone is sneaking into her apartment, and someone is following her home late at night—and she is going to have to fight for her survival.

Review

Praise for Mary Torjussen and her novels

“Torjussen knows how to deliver a teasing, suspenseful, and twisty read!”–Shari Lapena, 
New York Times bestselling author of 
The Couple Next Door

“A clever, fast-paced tale with a twist so sharp it will give readers whiplash.”–Tami Hoag, #1 
New York Times bestselling author

“Combines tightly wound suspense with an unfolding surprise ending…a gripping page-turner from start to finish.”–
Library Journal (starred)

“[An] engrossing psychological thriller…Paula Hawkins fans will find a lot to like.”–
Publishers Weekly

“[A] gripping psychological thriller.”–
Booklist

“Grabbed me right away…An absorbing, shocking thriller!”–David Bell, 
USA Today bestselling author of 
Layover

About the Author

Mary Torjussen is the acclaimed author of
Gone Without a Trace and
The Girl I Used to Be. She has an MA in Creative Writing from Liverpool John Moores University and worked for several years as a teacher.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Chapter 1

Ruby

The journey home seemed to take forever. I’d left the office early for a change, determined to get ahead of the evening rush, but still the traffic snarled to a halt within minutes. That’s not uncommon on a Friday evening, but it was usually a relief; this was the first time in years that I was impatient to be home.

It was a hot and humid summer afternoon in late June. The sky was overcast and showers threatened. The car’s air con was on full blast but my skin still prickled with sweat. The radio was on and I flicked from news channel to music as I waited for the cars ahead to move. I couldn’t find anything to focus on. My phone beeped and I glanced at the screen. It was a text from my husband, Tom.

Just left London. Back at 7 x

I read it and replied OK, then added X. I muted my phone and slid it into my handbag. I didn’t want to be disturbed: I needed to think.

Eventually the traffic started up again, with no indication of what had happened. There was no broken-down vehicle, no police cars or ambulance. Nothing but stationary traffic then a sudden release. I put my foot down on the accelerator, glad to be moving, to be on my way.

The railway station is a couple of miles from our house and on impulse I turned into its car park instead of carrying straight on home. I needed to check. I had to be certain.

As I drove in, I gave each car I passed a furtive glance. There was just the smallest chance I’d meet him on his way out; I wouldn’t have put it past him to have said he was on the train when he was actually in his car coming home from the station. I had no reason to be there and, if he saw me, he’d assume I was going somewhere or returning. The suspicion would always be there, no matter what I said. But maybe that didn’t matter now. The die was almost cast.

Still, when I finally saw his car I breathed a huge sigh of relief. He’d parked quite a way from the station entrance, and I remem