The Guest Room: An utterly unputdownable psychological thriller (Totally gripping thrillers by Rona Halsall)

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I smile at my friend. Noticing the uncomfortable shift of my body, she switches to Viv the intern and biscuits. There’s a feeling in my stomach—a faint froth of fear. I unwind it, pulling the wire taut between my hands. Still unsure what this object is, and why he’d have it with him. Don’t worry,” he says, lifting the duffel bag onto his shoulder. “I’ve still got my purple owl night-light.”

The train lurches to a stop and the automatic voice chimes: “This is Angel.” As I shuffle toward the door with my vacuum, I notice the man getting off behind me. He can look all he wants. He can follow me home. Steph and Andy are the parents to Max and Bea. Bea is is happily married to a wealthy man and is living a good life. She does not like her mother staying in the house by herself as the neighborhood has deteriorated over the years. But Steph refuses to move. Now, she has to find the money to buy Andy out. Max was always a difficult child and simply left ten years ago saying he was joining the Army. But, he has not been heard from since and this breaks Steph’s heart. When I don’t respond to Arran, he kneels down by his bags. My ears catch the sound: that squeaky buzz of a zip. He’s opened his duffel. His hand goes in and lifts out a T-shirt, then grips something else inside. A tall guy with a duffel bag looks at me with dark blue eyes. They’re fixed on my face for two seconds before they drop. Steph's home has not felt like a refuge or happy place since her husband of thirty years has left her. He wants to sell their shared home; she wants to stay. But things have been going bump in the night. There are strange sounds, when she tells others, her daughter, Bea thinks her mother is imagining things.THE AUTHOR: Rona loves a puzzle to solve, so now she writes them... her challenge is to find domestic storylines with twists that keep her readers guessing right to the end. I glance at the toothy dinosaur on the wall. No other guest has commented on either of these things before, and within two minutes he’s pointed both out. I’m not sure if I like it or not. Most people aren’t that observant, which generally works in my favor.

I blink hard, the phone’s light flashing in my vision. I realize that my phone is acting as a beacon. Here I am, come and get me. The perfect drawing power. But I bet if I held it up high until the sun rose nothing would happen. It would be another dud. It is set over multiple time lines. When books show what has happened in the past and what is happening in the present I find it really helps the reader (if it is well done) understand why things are happening and what has lead to the present activities and decisions. It also shows the bigger picture. After her newest lodger, Arran, takes the room, Tess finds his salaciously detailed diary, which chronicles his infatuation with a beautiful stranger. The diary, which appears harmless at first, slowly takes a darker, more menacing tone with each new entry. How do you define killing? Without witnesses, or evidence, the act is shaded. An imprecise thing. It’s like there’s a figure behind a window, breathing on the glass. I can see it. Him. But his breath has misted it up and I can’t make out his face. Only an obscure smile.

Success!

Thank you to my brothers, Ned and Jamie, and to everyone in my family—Jilly Bond, my grandparents, my great-aunt Pam who turned one hundred last year, and to the ancestors reaching through time. I take none of you or your stories for granted. Nor do I take for granted every being who has participated in my life’s flourishing—most especially those involved in the growing of food, those who have contributed to anything I’ve ever eaten. What incredible beauty there is on every plate. Nothing would be possible without the plants, the insects, the soil, the animals. As Thich Nhat Hanh so beautifully said: “If you are a poet, you will see clearly that there is a cloud floating in this sheet of paper.” Unending gratitude to trees, birds, water, and land. Steph,54,had lost it all,her marriage,career and self worth,slowly she is rebuilding her life and even though started a new job and made new friends is still trying to convince herself she is enjoying her ‘freedom’……but then things start to happen to her and she is convinced she is being targeted,but by who? And why? She decides upon a rash course of action and invites a near stranger into her home to ease her nerves and help her feel more secure……and then her problems really start

The ground is still warm; I can feel it on my legs, the sun’s heat lingering. When it happened, the ground was cold. There was frost on the grass. She was lying right here. This is where that middle-aged dog walker found her shortly after dawn. Where the paramedics crouched next to her, then pronounced her dead. I’m expecting Arran but the building buzzer hasn’t gone off yet. I press my eye to the peephole and see a warped version of a man. Not a stranger. My neighbor. I yank open the door. The barman had noticed—he was smiling at her. He put glasses of tinto de verano in front of two girls and leaned on the bar to chat with them. Oh, you gotta try it.” He sweeps his palms together, then cuts off a corner and holds it out to me.

Wordle Helper

When Kristin Chapman agrees to let her husband, Richard, host his brother's bachelor party, she expects a certain amount of debauchery. She takes their young daughter to Manhattan for the evening, leaving her Westchester home to the men and their hired entertainment. What she does not expect is that the entertainment—two scared young women brought there by force—will kill their captors and drive off into the night. Then strange things start happening in her home. Things that terrify her, but nothing so serious that the police can help with. At first, anyway. I stare at her. It’s been Nalika and Chris for five years. I thought they were going to get married. “When?” I’ve remembered something. A night last year when Rosie and I were in a bar—the barman was looking at her.”