The Couple Next Door Free Pdf Download UPDATED
The Couple Next Door Free Pdf Download
Download The Couple Next Door by Lapena Shari PDF volume costless online – It all started at a dinner party. . .
A domestic suspense debut about a young couple and their apparently friendly neighbors—a twisty, rollercoaster ride of lies, betrayal, and the secrets betwixt husbands and wives. . .
Anne and Marco Conti seem to have information technology all—a loving relationship, a wonderful home, and their beautiful baby, Cora. Merely i night, when they are at a dinner party next door, a terrible offense is committed. Suspicion immediately lands on the parents. Simply the truth is a much more complicated story.
Inside the curtained firm, an unsettling business relationship of what actually happened unfolds. Detective Rasbach knows that the panicked couple is hiding something. Both Anne and Marco soon detect that the other is keeping secrets, secrets they've kept for years.
What follows is the nervus-racking unraveling of a family—a chilling tale of charade, duplicity, and unfaithfulness that volition keep you breathless until the concluding shocking twist.
Table of Contents
- 0.i Review of The Couple Next Door PDF
- 0.ii About the Author
- 0.three Extract. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
- i Download The Couple Next Door PDF
- 1.one Related
Review of The Couple Next Door PDF
"Meticulously crafted and razor-sharp.The Couple Adjacent Door lingers long after you lot turn the last page."
—Harlan Coben, #1New York Times bestselling writer ofFool Me Once
"The twists come equally fast as you tin turn the pages."
—People
"Provocative and shocking. One offense, an unabridged neighborhood of suspects, secrets and lies. How well do nosotros ever know those effectually us?The Couple Next Door will keep you glued the pages in search of the answer. Even so, you'll never guess the truth…until information technology'south too late."
–Lisa Gardner, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Notice Her
"I read this novel at one sitting, absolutely riveted by the storyline. The suspense was beautifully rendered and unrelenting!"
—Sue Grafton, New York Times bestselling author of Y is for Yesterday
"Real men read women writers–because of books like this. Trust me."
—Lee Child, #1New York Times bestselling author ofMake Me
"A twisty, utterly riveting tale that will transport readers on a wild rollercoaster ride of emotions. Shocking revelations kept me turning the pages like a madwoman."
—Tess Gerritsen, New York Times bestselling writer of Playing with Fire
"Expertly paced and finely crafted,The Couple Next Door is a gripping thriller of the highest gild. I couldn't put it down."
—A. J. Imprint, bestselling author ofThe Practiced Neighbour "Gripped me from the very start to the very end!"
–-Becky Masterman, author of Rage Against The Dying "Brilliant! This utterly riveting psychological thriller hurtles along at breakneck speed, never giving you the opportunity to take hold of your breath. Twisty, turny, and unputdownable."
—C. Fifty. Taylor, bestselling author of The Lie
"Exquisitely torturous tension."
—NPR.org
"Where did that baby go! It's hard not to read to the terminate to find out, and the twists waiting there are gratifyingly clever."
—Us Today "The many never-saw-them-coming twists and questionable characters. . . volition keep you on the border of your seat. First-time novelist Lapena's writing is spare and tense, and it makesThe Couple Next Door a compulsive read. The last line is absolutely killer."
–Expert Housekeeping
"[A] well-sculpted domestic thriller . . . highly suspenseful . . . Twists are subtly revealed with aplomb, taking the story to increasingly unpredictable levels."
—Associated Press
"[A] suspenseful, centre-wrenching debut. . . Subsequently numerous twists and turns, Lapena delivers one final, deftly crafted surprise."
—Publishers Weekly "Brisk prose style and character evolution are about abreast the point in Lapena'due south suspense-fiction debut; this is a plot-driven page-turner, and even the most graphic symbol-focused readers volition find it difficult to put down."
—Booklist
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Shari Lapena is the internationally bestselling author of the thrillersThe Couple Next Door, A Stranger in the House, An Unwanted Invitee, Someone We Know,andThe Cease of Her,which take all beenNew York TimesandThe Lord's day Times(London) bestsellers. Her books have been sold in thirty-seven territories around the world. She lives in Toronto.
Extract. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
***This excerpt is from an advance uncorrected copy proof***
Copyright © 2016 Shari Lapena
One
Anne can feel the acid churning in her stomach and creeping up her pharynx; her head is swimming. She's had likewise much to drinkable. Cynthia has been topping her upwardly all night. Anne had meant to keep herself to a limit, but she'd let things slide-she didn't know how else she was supposed to go through the evening. Now she has no idea how much vino she's boozer over the form of this interminable dinner party. She'll accept to pump and dump her breast milk in the morning.
Anne wilts in the heat of the summer nighttime and watches her hostess with narrowed eyes. Cynthia is flirting openly with Anne's married man, Marco. Why does Anne put upwards with it? Why does Cynthia'south husband, Graham, allow it? Anne is angry just powerless; she doesn't know how to put a stop to it without looking pathetic and ridiculous. They are all a little tanked. So she ignores it, quietly seething, and sips at the chilled wine. Anne wasn't brought up to create a scene, isn't one to describe attention to herself.
Cynthia, on the other hand . . .
All 3 of them-Anne, Marco, and Cynthia'southward mild-mannered husband, Graham-are watching her, every bit if fascinated. Marco in detail tin't seem to take his eyes off Cynthia. She leans in a piddling too close to Marco as she bends over and fills his glass, her clingy tiptop cut then low that Marco's practically rubbing his nose in her cleavage.
Anne reminds herself that Cynthia flirts with everyone. Cynthia has such outrageous good looks that she tin can't seem to assist herself.
But the longer Anne watches, the more she wonders if there could really be something going on between Marco and Cynthia. Anne has never had such suspicions earlier. Maybe the booze is making her paranoid.
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No, she decides-they wouldn't exist carrying on like this if they had anything to hide. Cynthia is flirting more than Marco is; he is the flattered recipient of her attentions. Marco is most also expert-looking himself-with his tousled nighttime hair, hazel eyes, and mannerly smile, he's always attracted attention. They make a striking couple, Cynthia and Marco. Anne tells herself to stop it. Tells herself that of course Marco is faithful to her. She knows he is completely committed to his family. She and the baby are everything to him. He will stand past her no matter what-she takes some other gulp of wine-no matter how bad things get.
But watching Cynthia drape herself over Marco, Anne is becoming more than and more anxious and upset. She is nevertheless more than xx pounds overweight from her pregnancy, half-dozen months after having the baby. She thought she'd be back to her pre-pregnancy figure past at present, merely plainly it takes at to the lowest degree a year. She must stop looking at the tabloids at the grocery-store checkout and comparing herself to all those glory moms with their personal trainers who look terrific after mere weeks.
But fifty-fifty at her best, Anne could never compete with the likes of Cynthia, her taller, shapelier neighbour-with her long legs, nipped-in waist, and large breasts, her porcelain skin and tumbling jet-black hair. And Cynthia always dressed to kill, in high heels and sexy apparel-even for a dinner party at home with i other couple.
Anne can't focus on the conversation around her. She tunes information technology out and stares at the carved marble fireplace, exactly like the 1 in her own living-dining room, on the other side of the common wall that Anne and Marco share with Cynthia and Graham; they live in attached brick row houses, typical of this city in upstate New York, solidly built in the late nineteenth century. All the houses in the row are similar-Italianate, restored, expensive-except that Anne and Marco'due south is at the stop of the row and each reflects slight differences in decoration and taste; each 1 is a small masterpiece.
Anne reaches awfully for her cell phone on the dining tabular array and checks the fourth dimension. It is almost one o'clock in the morning. She'd checked on the baby at midnight. Marco had gone to check on her at twelve 30. Then he'd gone out for a cigarette on the dorsum patio with Cynthia, while Anne and Graham sabbatum rather awkwardly at the littered dining tabular array, making stilted chat. She should accept gone out to the backyard with them; there might have been a breeze. But she hadn't, because Graham didn't similar to exist around cigarette smoke, and it would have been rude, or at least inconsiderate, to leave Graham there all alone at his ain dinner party. So for reasons of propriety, she had stayed. Graham, a WASP like herself, is impeccably polite. Why he married a tart similar Cynthia is a mystery. Cynthia and Marco had come up back in from the patio a few minutes agone, and Anne desperately wants to leave, even if everyone else is all the same having fun.
She glances at the baby monitor sitting at the end of the table, its small-scale red light glowing like the tip of a cigarette. The video screen is smashed-she'd dropped it a couple of days agone and Marco hadn't gotten effectually to replacing information technology nonetheless-just the sound is nevertheless working. Suddenly she has doubts, feels the wrongness of it all. Who goes to a dinner party next door and leaves her baby alone in the house? What kind of mother does such a thing? She feels the familiar agony set in-she is not a good mother.
So what if the sitter canceled? They should have brought Cora with them, put her in her portable playpen. Merely Cynthia had said no children. It was to be an adult evening, for Graham's birthday. Which is some other reason Anne has come to dislike Cynthia, who was once a skillful friend-Cynthia is not baby-friendly. Who says that a 6-month-old babe isn't welcome at a dinner party? How had Anne ever permit Marco persuade her that it was okay? Information technology was irresponsible. She wonders what the other mothers in her moms' grouping would think if she ever told them. We left our six-month-old baby abode lone and went to a party adjacent door. She imagines all their jaws dropping in daze, the uncomfortable silence. But she will never tell them. She'd be shunned.
She and Marco had argued about it before the political party. When the sitter called and canceled, Anne had offered to stay home with the infant-she hadn't wanted to go to the dinner anyhow. But Marco was having none of it.
"Yous can't just stay domicile," he insisted when they argued about information technology in their kitchen.
"I'm fine staying home," she said, her voice lowered. She didn't want Cynthia to hear them through the shared wall, arguing most going to her party.
"It will be healthy to leave," Marco countered, lowering his own voice. And so he'd added, "You know what the doctor said."
All night long she's been trying to decide whether that concluding comment was mean-spirited or self-interested or whether he was simply trying to help. Finally she'd given in. Marco persuaded her that with the monitor on adjacent door they could hear the baby anytime she stirred or woke. They would cheque on her every one-half hr. Nil bad would happen.
It is one o'clock. Should she cheque on Cora now or but try to get Marco to get out? She wants to go home to bed. She wants tonight to end.
She pulls her married man's arm. "Marco," she urges, "nosotros should leave. It's one o'clock."
"Oh, don't go yet," Cynthia says. "It's not that late!" She apparently doesn't want the party to be over. She doesn't desire Marco to get out. She wouldn't listen at all if Anne left, though, Anne is pretty sure.
"Possibly non for you," Anne says, and she manages to sound a little stiff, fifty-fifty though she's drunk, "simply I accept to be up early on to feed the baby."
"Poor y'all," Cynthia says, and for some reason this infuriates Anne. Cynthia has no children, nor has she ever wanted whatsoever. She and Graham are childless by option.
Getting Marco to leave the party is difficult. He seems determined to stay. He'south having too much fun, but Anne is growing anxious.
"Simply i more than," Marco says to Cynthia, property upward his glass, fugitive his married woman'southward eyes.
He is in a strangely boisterous mood this night-it seems virtually forced. Anne wonders why. He's been quiet lately, at habitation. Distracted, even moody. But tonight, with Cynthia, he'due south the life of the party. For some time now, Anne has sensed that something is wrong, if just he would tell her what it is. He isn't telling her much of anything these days. He's shutting her out. Or maybe he's withdrawing from her considering of her depression, her "baby blues." He's disappointed in her. Who isn't? Tonight he conspicuously prefers the cute, bubbly, sparkly Cynthia.
Anne notices the time and loses all patience. "I'm going to go. I was supposed to bank check on the baby at one." She looks at Marco. "You stay every bit late every bit you similar," she adds, her voice tight. Marco looks sharply at her, his eyes glittering. Suddenly Anne thinks he doesn't seem that drunkard at all, but she feels lightheaded. Are they going to debate nearly this? In front of the neighbors? Really? Anne begins to glance around for her purse, gathers upwards the baby monitor, realizes so that it's plugged into the wall, and bends over to unplug it, aware of everyone at the table silently staring at her fatty ass. Well, let them. She feels like they're ganging up on her, seeing her every bit a spoilsport. Tears start to burn, and she fights them back. She does not desire to outburst into tears in front of everyone. Cynthia and Graham don't know almost her postpartum depression. They wouldn't understand. Anne and Marco oasis't told anyone, with the exception of Anne'due south mother. Anne has recently confided in her. She knows that her mother won't tell anyone, non even her father. Anne doesn't want anyone else to know, and she suspects Marco doesn't either, although he hasn't said as much. But pretending all the time is exhausting.
While her back is turned, she hears Marco's change of heart in the tone of his vocalization.
"You're right. It's late, we should go," he says. She hears him set his wineglass on the table backside her.
Anne turns effectually, brushing the hair out of her eyes with the back of her paw. She desperately needs a haircut. She gives a fake smile and says, "Adjacent time it'south our plough to host." And adds silently, You tin can come to our house, where our kid lives with us, and I hope she cries all night and spoils your evening. I'll be certain to invite you when she's teething.
They get out quickly after that. They have no baby gear to assemble up, just themselves, Anne'due south purse, and the baby monitor, which she shoves into it. Cynthia looks annoyed at their swift departure-Graham is neutral-and they make their manner out the impressively heavy front door and down the steps. Anne grabs concord of the elaborately carved handrail to help her keep her balance. Information technology is just a few short paces along the sidewalk until they are at their ain front stairs, with a similar handrail and an as impressive front door. Anne is walking slightly ahead of Marco, not speaking. She may not speak to him for the rest of the night. She marches upward the steps and stops expressionless.
"What?" Marco says, coming up backside her, his voice tense.
Anne is staring. The front door is ajar; it is open virtually three inches.
"I know I locked information technology!" Anne says, her vocalisation shrill.
Marco says tersely, "Peradventure yous forgot. You've had a lot to beverage."
Simply Anne isn't listening. She's within and running upward the staircase and down the hall to the infant'south room, with Marco right at her heels.
When she gets to the babe's room and sees the empty crib, she screams.
Two
Anne feels her scream inside her own head and reverberating off the walls-her scream is everywhere. So she falls silent and stands in front of the empty crib, rigid, her hand to her mouth. Marco fumbles with the light switch. They both stare at the empty crib where their babe should be. It is impossible that she non exist at that place. There is no way Cora could have gotten out of the crib past herself. She is barely six months old.
"Call the police," Anne whispers, and so throws up, the vomit cascading over her fingers and onto the hardwood floor as she bends over. The baby's room, painted a soft butter yellow with stencils of baby lambs frolicking on the walls, immediately fills with the smell of bile and panic.
Marco doesn't move. Anne looks up at him. He is paralyzed, in shock, staring at the empty crib, as if he tin't believe information technology. Anne sees the fear and guilt in his optics and starts to wail-a horrible, keening audio, like an animate being in pain.
Marco still doesn't budge. Anne bolts across the hall to their bedroom, grabs the phone off the bedside tabular array, and dials 911, her hands shaking, getting vomit all over the telephone. Marco finally snaps out of it. She can hear him walking speedily around the second floor of the house while she stares beyond the hall at the empty crib. He checks the bathroom, at the acme of the stairs, then passes chop-chop by her on his fashion to search the spare bedroom so the last room downward the hall, the one they have turned into an function. But even as he does, Anne wonders in a discrete mode why he is looking there. It'southward every bit if office of her mind has split off and is thinking logically. It'southward not like their baby is mobile on her own. She is non in the bathroom, or the spare sleeping room, or the function.
Someone has taken her.
When the emergency operator answers, Anne cries, "Someone has taken our baby!" She is barely able to calm herself enough to reply the operator'south questions.
"I sympathise, ma'am. Try to stay calm. The constabulary are on their mode," the operator assures her.
Anne hangs upwards the phone. Her whole body is trembling. She feels like she is going to exist sick once more. It occurs to her how it will wait. They'd left the baby alone in the house. Was that illegal? It must be. How will they explicate it?
Marco appears at the bedroom door, pale and sick-looking.
"This is your fault!" Anne screams, wild-eyed, and pushes by him. She rushes into the bath at the top of the stairs and throws upwards once again, this fourth dimension into the pedestal sink, then washes the mess from her shaking hands and rinses her mouth. She catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Marco is continuing right behind her. Their eyes encounter in the mirror.
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