by Avery Aster
“Look familiar, darling? I used this on the security camera downstairs. Pretty brilliant on my part. And yes, it was me who later found the video and edited out that blurry footage of me. I didn’t look too good on camera. Now did I?”
Lifting me into the box, she closes the lid.
Unable to move, the paralysis of whatever she’s given me is now fully in effect. How can she be so calculated?
As she wheels the cart into the elevator and down the stairs, I suddenly start to wonder if she killed her first two husbands. Bo never told me how they died, but as far as I know, they weren’t old or sick.
Was this all a part of her master plan? To get rich and then live happily ever after with my husband?
The cold, damp smell of mold smacks my nostrils as I try to sit up inside the box. We must be in the basement now.
I hear her unlock the storage room, where each tenant keeps an 8x10 caged space to place their holiday decorations, outdated clothing, or things they don’t use anymore.
She tries to lift me inside the box but can’t. Cursing, she pushes the cart onto its side and I fall out on the floor.
My eyelids are drooping. All I see are shadows. The warmth of the florescent light above creates rings of blue and yellow around Maxine’s face as if she were some kind of angel. She isn’t.
Focusing all of my mental energy on being able to move my body one more time, I grab her leg as she tries to leave. Kicking me, she steps on my hands, cutting them with her high heels. A sharp pain travels along my side. The physical torture of what she’s done coincides with the mental abuse she’s been causing me all this time.
She then locks me in. Leaving me here to die.
“You got your chance. You should’ve left when I told you,” she yells from the top of the stairs. “Goodbye.”
Hours must’ve passed, maybe a whole night. I sit up, still in the cage. Able to move my hands now The drugs have worn off. I rip off the tape covering my mouth.
I shout for help, hoping someone, anyone, hears me.
Everyone is gone. They heeded the warning and left hours ago.
Glancing down at the watch my husband gave me when we first married, I notice the time: ten minutes to eight. I’m fucked.
Any minute now the demolition crew will blow this basement into a gazillion pieces. I imagine my body combusting like an overcooked dinner that had been left in the microwave for far too long on the highest power. My arms would be found somewhere on FDR Drive. My legs would smack the roof of a nearby cab. I think about my dentist, Dr. Sabbagh, having to identify my skull using dental records. And my mother in Westchester; I can already hear her saying, “I told Piper she should’ve never gotten married to someone as good-looking as Boden Adler.”
My hands, cut and bloody from fighting while trying to defend myself, start to shake uncontrollably. Reaching for the edge of the cage that I’m locked into, I throw myself onto the mesh metal with every ounce of energy left inside me, praying the door comes loose.
Locked from the other side, it doesn’t budge.
Fear pounds in my heart, blood thumps through my ears. The florescent lights that have given me hope like a warm blanket for however long I’ve been here flicker.
Exhausted, I surrender, collapsing onto the cold cement floor.
Never in a million years did I think I’d die like this.
I close my eyes and start to pray.
Suddenly the lights go out.
I let out the loudest bloodcurdling scream I can possibly manage.
The lights come back on and a familiar voice hollers, “Hello? Is anyone down there?”
“Yes, Please help me.” I get to my feet, shaking the cage.
It’s Bo. My Bo.
Panic and confusion etched in his face, he unlocks the gate.
“I’ve been worried sick. I’m so glad I found you.”
I fall onto him.
Without any questions, he picks me up like a doll in his arms. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
He carries me up several flights of stairs, through the lobby, and across the street. Placing me carefully on the bench, onlookers gawk at us as I tell him what happened with Maxine.
The whites of his eyes turn into saucers. “She’s unstable. Hasn’t been well for years.” He calls the police.
“How did you know to come and find me? I thought you were in Palm Beach?”
“Yesterday, I got a call at the office from someone named Keely. She said you and here were on the phone talking about Maxine’s fingerprints. And all of a sudden, the phone went dead. When she tried to call back, a taxi driver answered and said that the phone had come flying out of an apartment window and landed in the backseat of his cab.”
Stunned, I stare at him.
“Immediately, I called the police. They came to your apartment, naturally you didn’t answer. I rang Maxine. Same thing. Keely called me again later in the night and said you were suppose to come over to her place and never showed. That’s when I knew something was the matter, so this morning I got the first flight out.”
As we sit there, waiting for them to arrive, it starts to rain. The water feels so good against my skin. Tilting my head up, I stick out my tongue. After a few seconds, I lean over and ask, “Were you ever in love with Maxine? What made her think you two would have a future together?”
“Maxine was never interested in me when I was dirt-poor. It wasn’t until I started working on Wall Street that her affection for me changed.”
“Didn’t she help you get that job?”
He nods. “I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you, Piper. Will you ever forgive me?”
The tears I’d been shedding evaporate as a wind of hope sweeps them away.
“Yes.” A cry of relief breaks my lips as my smile broadens in approval. “I want us to try again to be happy.”
“We will be. I promise I’ll make it up to you. I love you, babe.” He reaches over, peering at me intently, and kisses me.
“I love you too, Bo.”
Few Weeks Later
Back in the Barclay, I set the table for eight; me, Bo, Keely, Reid, Jana, Hollis, their baby, and our new foster child are all having dinner tonight out on the terrace. We’re celebrating.
Her name is Hannah. She’s nine. Came to us a few nights ago. She’s struggling with being able to read, but I’ve found her a great tutor.
“Did you see the paper?” Reid asks, placing the salad bowl in the center.
“I did.” I glare at him. “I don’t want to hear about Maxine Valentine ever again.”
Found and arrested in Palm Beach, apparently she’d been stalking Bo during his weekly trips down there all along. She’d admitted to abducting me, shooting the dog, staging my suicide, and killing two of her late husbands.
“Her trial starts in two weeks.”
“I don’t care,” I say.
“Guess her penthouse will be going on the market.”
“You gonna move up there?” I ask.
“I’ve always loved the view.”
We laugh and hug as everyone comes outside for dinner.
Want more of Piper Adler? Grab the next book in the series The Lost Year. http://a.co/e2QEIK4
For fans of Strangers on a Train, The Talented Mr. Ripley, and Shutter Island, the new psychological thriller from New York Times bestselling author Avery Aster warns readers: your best friend can be your worst enemy.
After a frightful first year of marriage, psychotherapist Piper Adler is putting her life back in order. She’s been offered her own TV show, Talk Therapy, giving advice to millions of viewers around the world. Her relationship, friends, and career are all starting to come together.
All seems to be going perfect until her patient-turned-friend, the forensic expert Keely Brock, attends a party on a yacht in the Mediterranean and goes overboard. Missing for nearly a year, Piper presumes she’s dead, until she receives an anonymous text saying Keely is alive and living on the French Riviera.
Determined to find out if the woman in question is Keely, Piper boards a plane headed for Monaco. What begins as a quest for truth may end with Piper’s life on the line, as once she tracks the woman down, she doesn't seem to know who Keely is, let alone remember Piper. If this lookalike isn’t her, then who the hell is she? And what happened to Keely?
Fusing nail-biting suspense with potent storytelling, THE LOST YEAR will mess with your head.
A graduate of New York University and a resident of the Big Apple for twenty years, New York Times bestselling author Avery Aster writes popular fiction in several genres. Erotic Romance fans enjoy Avery’s The Manhattanites books, while New Adult readers can’t get enough of the Undergrad Years. For those who like a good thrill that’ll mess with their mind, check out Avery’s psychological suspense series, Piper Adler and other books at www.AveryAster.com
Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/CQ665
Facebook: http://www.FaceBook.com/AveryAster
Twitter: http://www.Twitter.com/AveryAster
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/AveryAster
Instagram: https://instagram.com/AveryAster/
Pinterest: http://www.Pinterest.com/AveryAster
Tumblr: http://www.averyaster.tumblr.com
Tsū: http://www.tsu.co/AveryAster
Website: http://www.AveryAster.com
Table of Contents
Author's Note
Cast of Characters
Part One
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Part Two
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Part Three
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Epilogue
The Lost Year
About Avery Aster
Connect With Avery