Trust only Me

TRUST ONLY ME An unputdownable psychological thriller with a breathtaking twist MCGARVEY BLACK Joffe Books, London www.joffebooks.com First published in Great Britain in 2023 © McGarvey Black This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The spelling used is British English except where fidelity to the author’s rendering of accent or dialect supersedes this. The right of McGarvey Black to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. We love to hear from our readers! Please email any feedback you have to: [email protected] Cover art by Nick Castle ISBN: 978-1-80405-584-7 CONTENTS Love Free Bestselling Fiction? Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Love Free Bestselling Fiction? The Joffe Books Story A Selection of Books You May Enjoy Glossary of English Usage for US Readers Love Free Bestselling Fiction? Join our mailing list and get a FREE Kindle book from a bestselling author every week! Click here to join our mailing list and also get a free box set of short stories! Follow us on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram @joffebooks Chapter 1 Thank you for choosing this book. Join our mailing list and get FREE Kindle books from our bestselling authors every week! CLICK HERE TO GET MORE LOVELY BOOK DEALS I remember the moment it started as if it were yesterday. When everything spiraled out of control the only recourse was — let it play out, for better or for worse. It was a Tuesday morning and I was on the phone in my second-floor home office. Despite finishing my third cup of coffee, I was still feeling the effects of the two bottles of red wine my husband Teddy and I had consumed the night before. We had celebrated my thirty-fifth birthday. He cooked — crab cakes with mango-cilantro salsa and quinoa, finishing with a peach prosecco sorbet. His presentation was, as usual, spectacular — one of the many perks of being married to a chef who the New York Echo called one of the “Top 100 Rising Culinary Stars”. Still on hold, I tapped my pen on the desk as if it would make time go faster. I was waiting for a “yes” from my client, which would mean a big commission check for me. As an executive recruiter, you learn pretty fast every scalp is worth something — some more than others. The one I was waiting for was worth a bundle. During the week, I placed people in jobs. But on nights and weekends, I wrote dark thrillers about psychos and serial killers. They often included dead bodies, severed limbs, explosions and the occasional torso without a head. The number of casualties in my stories depended on my mood. I once slaughtered an entire fictional town after I got a letter from the IRS saying I owed back taxes. I didn’t have the extra eight hundred dollars the Chapter 2 My best friend, Natalie Bloom, the quintessential Type A personality almost always got what she wanted. Right after college, she had landed her dream job at a boutique PR firm in Manhattan. The company was fast-paced and demanding, so she rarely communicated with me during the workday. That’s why I was so surprised when I received her text that Tuesday. —Where ru? I called ten times!!!!!!! Jeez, maybe I was in the shower. There was always drama with Natalie, but I texted her back. What’s up? —Something weird on Twitter. What?! —Twitter trolls posting crazy conspiracy crap about your first book. You don’t want that kind of publicity. Trust me. Get it down. Here’s the link. I clicked. Somebody named @Aussiegirl9876 had been tweeting about my first novel, A Burning Desire. Aussie Girl had even tagged me in the tweet. Anyone notice drone explosion and fire in SW Connecticut eerily similar to @JillianSamuelsAuthorbook #ABurningDesire? #copycat #explosion #lifeisstrangerthanfiction #realcrimecomestrue #WTF? WTF is right. I spotted three more Twitter notifications from total strangers all talking about me while commenting on the local explosions and comparing them to my book. I was about to do a Google search for “fires in Connecticut” when my client came back on the line and told me to extend the job offer. For a second, I completely forgot about Twitter as I calculated how much commission I’d make — twelve thousand dollars. Nice. Teddy and I needed the money and I hadn’t made a commission in months. I only got paid if I placed someone, which didn’t happen every day . . . or every month for that matter. Until that day, my only aspiration was for one of my novels to become a bestseller and translated into twenty-seven languages. Over the years, friends and family had encouraged