The Last Time I Lied: A Novel

The Last Time I Lied: A Novel

by Riley Sager

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In this New York Times bestselling thriller from the author of Lock Every Door and Final Girls, a young woman returns to her childhood summer camp to uncover the truth about a tragedy that happened there fifteen years ago.

Two Truths and a Lie. The girls played it all the time in their cabin at Camp Nightingale. Vivian, Natalie, Allison, and first-time camper Emma Davis, the youngest of the group. But the games ended the night Emma sleepily watched the others sneak out of the cabin into the darkness. The last she--or anyone--saw of them was Vivian closing the cabin door behind her, hushing Emma with a finger pressed to her lips.

Now a rising star in the New York art scene, Emma turns her past into paintings--massive canvases filled with dark leaves and gnarled branches that cover ghostly shapes in white dresses. When the paintings catch the attention of Francesca Harris-White, the wealthy owner of Camp Nightingale, she implores Emma to return to the newly reopened camp as a painting instructor. Seeing an opportunity to find out what really happened to her friends all those years ago, Emma agrees.

Familiar faces, unchanged cabins, and the same dark lake haunt Nightingale, even though the camp is opening its doors for the first time since the disappearances. Emma is even assigned to the same cabin she slept in as a teenager, but soon discovers a security camera--the only one on the property--pointed directly at its door. Then cryptic clues that Vivian left behind about the camp's twisted origins begin surfacing. As she digs deeper, Emma finds herself sorting through lies from the past while facing mysterious threats in the present. And the closer she gets to the truth about Camp Nightingale and what really happened to those girls, the more she realizes that closure could come at a deadly price.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781524743086
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Publication date: 07/03/2018
Sold by: Penguin Group
Format: NOOK Book
Pages: 384
Sales rank: 2,808
File size: 1 MB

About the Author

The Last Time I Lied is the second thriller from Riley Sager, the pseudonym of an author who lives in Princeton, New Jersey. Riley's first novel, Final Girls, was a national and international bestseller that has been published in more than two-dozen countries.

Read an Excerpt


I paint the girls in the same order.

Vivian first.

Then Natalie.

Allison is last, even though she was first to leave the cabin and therefore technically the first to disappear.

My paintings are typically large. Massive, really. As big as a barn door, Randall likes to say. Yet the girls are always small. Inconsequential marks on a canvas that's alarmingly wide.

Their arrival heralds the second stage of a painting, after I've laid down a background of earth and sky in hues with appropriately dark names. Spider black. Shadow gray. Blood red.

And midnight blue, of course. In my paintings, there's always a bit of midnight.

Then come the girls, sometimes clustered together, sometimes scattered to far-flung corners of the canvas. I put them in white dresses that flare at the hems, as if they're running from something. They're usually turned so all that can be seen of them is their hair trailing behind them as they flee. On the rare occasions when I do paint a glimpse of their faces, it's only the slimmest of profiles, nothing more than a single curved brushstroke.

I create the woods last, using a putty knife to slather paint onto the canvas in wide, unwieldy strokes. This process can take days, even weeks, me slightly dizzy from fumes as I glob on more paint, layer upon layer, keeping it thick.

I've heard Randall boast to potential buyers that my surfaces are like Van Gogh's, with paint cresting as high as an inch off the canvas. I prefer to think I paint like nature, where true smoothness is a myth, especially in the woods. The chipped ridges of tree bark. The speckle of moss on rock. Several autumns' worth of leaves coating the ground. That's the nature I try to capture with my scrapes and bumps and whorls of paint.

So I add more and more, each wall-size canvas slowly succumbing to the forest of my imagination. Thick. Forbidding. Crowded with danger. The trees loom, dark and menacing. Vines don't creep so much as coil, their loops tightening into choke holds. Underbrush covers the forest floor. Leaves blot out the sky.

I paint until there's not a bare patch left on the canvas and the girls have been consumed by the forest, buried among the trees and vines and leaves, rendered invisible. Only then do I know a painting is finished, using the tip of a brush handle to swirl my name into the lower right-hand corner.

Emma Davis.

That same name, in that same borderline-illegible script, now graces a wall of the gallery, greeting visitors as they pass through the hulking sliding doors of this former warehouse in the Meatpacking District. Every other wall is filled with paintings. My paintings. Twenty-seven of them.

My first gallery show.

Randall has gone all out for the opening party, turning the place into a sort of urban forest. There are rust-colored walls and birch trees cut from a forest in New Jersey arranged in tasteful clumps. Ethereal house music throbs discreetly in the background. The lighting suggests October even though it's a week until St. Patrick's Day and outside the streets are piled with dirty slush.

The gallery is packed, though. I'll give Randall that. Collectors, critics, and lookyloos elbow for space in front of the canvases, champagne glasses in hand, reaching every so often for the mushroom-and-goat-cheese croquettes that float by. Already I've been introduced to dozens of people whose names I've instantly forgotten. People of importance. Important enough for Randall to whisper who they are in my ear as I shake their hands.

"From the Times," he says of a woman dressed head to toe in shades of purple. Of a man in an impeccably tailored suit and bright red sneakers, he simply whispers, "Christie's."

"Very impressive work," Mr. Christie's says, giving me a crooked smile. "They're so bold."

There's surprise in his voice, as if women are somehow incapable of boldness. Or maybe his surprise stems from the fact that, in person, I'm anything but bold. Compared with other outsize personalities in the art world, I'm positively demure. No all-purple ensemble or flashy footwear for me. Tonight's little black dress and black pumps with a kitten heel are as fancy as I get. Most days I dress in the same combination of khakis and paint-specked T-shirts. My only jewelry is the silver charm bracelet always wrapped around my left wrist. Hanging from it are three charms-tiny birds made of brushed pewter.

I once told Randall I dress so plainly because I want my paintings to stand out and not the other way around. In truth, boldness in one's personality and appearance seems futile to me.

Vivian was bold in every way.

It didn't keep her from disappearing.

During these meet and greets, I smile as wide as instructed, accept compliments, coyly defer the inevitable questions about what I plan to do next.

Once Randall has exhausted his supply of strangers to introduce, I hang back from the crowd, willing myself not to check each painting for the telltale red sticker signaling it's been sold. Instead, I nurse a glass of champagne in a corner, the branch of a recently deforested birch tapping against my shoulder as I look around the room for people I actually know. There are many, which makes me grateful, even though it's strange seeing them together in the same place. High school friends mingling with coworkers from the ad agency, fellow painters standing next to relatives who took the train in from Connecticut.

All of them, save for a single cousin, are men.

That's not entirely an accident.

I perk up once Marc arrives fashionably late, sporting a proud grin as he surveys the scene. Although he claims to loathe the art world, Marc fits in perfectly. Bearded with adorably mussed hair. A plaid sport coat thrown over his worn Mickey Mouse T-shirt. Red sneakers that make Mr. Christie's do a disappointed double take. Passing through the crowd, Marc snags a glass of champagne and one of the croquettes, which he pops into his mouth and chews thoughtfully.

"The cheese saves it," he informs me. "But those watery mushrooms are a major infraction."

"I haven't tried one yet," I say. "Too nervous."

Marc puts a hand on my shoulder, steadying me. Just like he used to do when we lived together during art school. Every person, especially artists, needs a calming influence. For me, that person is Marc Stewart. My voice of reason. My best friend. My probable husband if not for the fact that we both like men.

I'm drawn to the romantically unattainable. Again, not a coincidence.

"You're allowed to enjoy this, you know," he says.

"I know."

"And you can be proud of yourself. There's no need to feel guilty. Artists are supposed to be inspired by life experiences. That's what creativity is all about."

Marc's talking about the girls, of course. Buried inside every painting. Other than me, only he knows about their existence. The only thing I haven't told him is why, fifteen years later, I continue to make them vanish over and over.

That's one thing he's better off not knowing.

I never intended to paint this way. In art school, I was drawn to simplicity in both color and form. Andy Warhol's soup cans. Jasper Johns's flags. Piet Mondrian's bold squares and rigid black lines. Then came an assignment to paint a portrait of someone I knew who had died.

I chose the girls.

I painted Vivian first, because she burned brightest in my memory. That blond hair right out of a shampoo ad. Those incongruously dark eyes that looked black in the right light. The pert nose sprayed with freckles brought out by the sun. I put her in a white dress with an elaborate Victorian collar fanning around her swanlike neck and gave her the same enigmatic smile she displayed on her way out of the cabin.

You're too young for this, Em.

Natalie came next. High forehead. Square chin. Hair pulled tight in a ponytail. Her white dress got a dainty lace collar that downplayed her thick neck and broad shoulders.

Finally, there was Allison, with her wholesome look. Apple cheeks and slender nose. Brows two shades darker than her flaxen hair, so thin and perfect they looked like they had been drawn on with brown pencil. I painted an Elizabethan ruff around her neck, frilly and regal.

Yet there was something wrong with the finished painting. Something that gnawed at me until the night before the project was due, when I awoke at 2:00 a.m. and saw the three of them staring at me from across the room.

Seeing them. That was the problem.

I crept out of bed and approached the canvas. I grabbed a brush, dabbed it in some brown paint, and smeared a line over their eyes. A tree branch, blinding them. More branches followed. Then plants and vines and whole trees, all of them gliding off the brush onto the canvas, as if sprouting there. By dawn, most of the canvas had been besieged by forest. All that remained of Vivian, Natalie, and Allison were shreds of their white dresses, patches of skin, locks of hair.

That became No. 1. The first in my forest series. The only one where even a fraction of the girls is visible. That piece, which got the highest grade in the class after I explained its meaning to my instructor, is absent from the gallery show. It hangs in my loft, not for sale.

Most of the others are here, though, with each painting taking up a full wall of the multichambered gallery. Seeing them together like this, with their gnarled branches and vibrant leaves, makes me realize how obsessive the whole endeavor is. Knowing I've spent years painting the same subject unnerves me.

"I am proud," I tell Marc before taking a sip of champagne.

He downs his glass in one gulp and grabs a fresh one. "Then what's up? You seem vexed."

He says it with a reedy British accent, a dead-on impersonation of Vincent Price in that campy horror movie neither of us can remember the name of. All we know is that we were stoned when we watched it on TV one night, and the line made us howl with laughter. We say it to each other far too often.

"It's just weird. All of this." I use my champagne flute to gesture at the paintings dominating the walls, the people lined up in front of them, Randall kissing both cheeks of a svelte European couple who just walked through the door. "I never expected any of this."

I'm not being humble. It's the truth. If I had expected a gallery show, I would have actually named my work. Instead, I simply numbered them in the order they were painted. No. 1 through No. 33.

Randall, the gallery, this surreal opening reception-all of it is a happy accident. The product of being in the right place at the right time. That right place, incidentally, was Marc's bistro in the West Village. At the time, I was in my fourth year of being the in-house artist at an ad agency. It was neither enjoyable nor fulfilling, but it paid the rent on a crumbling loft big enough to fit my forest canvases. After an overhead pipe leaked into the bistro, Marc needed something to temporarily mask a wall's worth of water damage. I loaned him No. 8 because it was the biggest and able to cover the most square footage.

That right time was a week later, when the owner of a small gallery a few blocks away popped into Marc's place for lunch. He saw the painting, was suitably intrigued, and asked Marc about the artist.

That led to one of my paintings-No. 7-being displayed in the gallery. It sold within a week. The owner asked for more. I gave him three. One of the paintings-lucky No. 13-caught the eye of a young art lover who posted a picture of it on Instagram. That picture was noticed by her employer, a television actress known for setting trends. She bought the painting and hung it in her dining room, showing it off during a dinner party for a small group of friends. One of those friends, an editor at Vogue, told his cousin, the owner of a larger, more prestigious gallery. That cousin is Randall, who currently roams the gallery, coiling his arms around every guest he sees.

What none of them knows-not Randall, not the actress, not even Marc-is that those thirty-three canvases are the only things I've painted outside my duties at the ad agency. There are no fresh ideas percolating in this artist's brain, no inspiration sparking me into productivity. I've attempted other things, of course, more from a nagging sense of responsibility than actual desire. But I'm never able to move beyond those initial, halfhearted efforts. I return to the girls every damn time.

I know I can't keep painting them, losing them in the woods again and again. To that end, I've vowed not to paint another. There won't be a No. 34 or a No. 46 or, God forbid, a No. 112.

That's why I don't answer when everyone asks me what I'm working on next. I have no answer to give. My future is quite literally a blank canvas, waiting for me to fill it. The only thing I've painted in the past six months is my studio, using a roller to convert it from daffodil yellow to robin's-egg blue.

If there's anything vexing me, it's that. I'm a one-hit wonder. A bold lady painter whose life's work is on these walls.

As a result, I feel helpless when Marc leaves my side to chat up a handsome cater waiter, giving Randall the perfect moment to clutch my wrist and drag me to a slender woman studying No. 30, my largest work to date. Although I can't see the woman's face, I know she's important. Everyone else I've met tonight has been guided to me instead of the other way around.

"Here she is, darling," Randall announces. "The artist herself."

The woman whirls around, fixing me with a friendly, green-eyed gaze I haven't seen in fifteen years. It's a look you easily remember. The kind of gaze that, when aimed at you, makes you feel like the most important person in the world.

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The Last Time I Lied: A Novel 4.6 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 36 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Great page turner.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
What a great read. Had me guessing the entire book, couldn’t wait to get to the end. The ending was so unexpected. Loved this book
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
A fantastic read, I loved it. Can't wait for her next one.
Mwbrice236 25 days ago
I truly couldn't put this book down. I enjoyed it from the beginning to the satisfying ending!
Anonymous 6 months ago
Anonymous 6 months ago
Such an enjoyable read with strong characters, good twists, a great setting and an excellent writing style. Definitely recommend!
mistymtns1812 8 months ago
I know I’ve only read two of his books, but man, Riley Sager is on a roll. The Last Time I Lied is about Emma Davis, a girl whose bunkmates went missing from their cabin at summer camp when she was thirteen. She spends the next fifteen years blaming herself for their disappearances. Now a successful artist, Emma paints her three missing friends in every one of her paintings, but only she knows they’re there. When Emma is approached by the billionaire owner of the camp to teach painting there over the summer, she takes the opportunity with the hopes of finding closure. When history starts to repeat itself, Emma realizes she has little time to figure out the truth of what happened in the past and why it’s happening again in the present. The entire story is told from Emma’s perspective in the present, and from her memories of the past. As the reader, I got the feeling she wasn’t being entirely truthful with me until almost the very end. I love an unreliable narrator, so I loved trying to put the pieces of the mystery together while also trying to figure out the truth about Emma. Sager is a master at keeping you guessing until the very end, and I was. I still have questions and doubts about the truth of the events that took place at Camp Nightingale. The transitions between the past and the present were seamless, and the dialogue felt incredibly real. I’m not sure how a man knows so much about what it’s like to be a teenage girl, but he captured their bitchy, two-faced ways perfectly. I have to say, I wasn’t as shocked by the ending as I thought I would be. While I knew Emma was onto something, I still had a feeling she wasn’t on the exact right track. The ending ended up falling a little flat for me and I think the main reason is because it wasn’t as black and white as Final Girls. However, I think that’s the beauty of this book. Emma told so many lies throughout the book that when the truth finally came out, I wasn’t certain I believed it. I’m not going to spoil the ending, but I still think there’s more to the story, and it makes me wonder a lot of things. I’m not sure I can say that I liked this better than Final Girls, because the two novels are so different, but The Last Time I Lied has a spot on my top 10 books of 2019 for sure.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This is my third Riley Sager book. I first read Lock Every Door and loved it, then I read Final Girls and was left a little disappointed. So coming into The Last Time I Lied, I was a little hesitant. I wasn't sure if I was going to love it or hate it. Turns out, I loved it! I was hooked from page one. I interpreted it as the opposite of Pretty Little Liars. Instead of one person going missing from a group and lies being told, it's 3 girls that are missing leaving behind one person to lie. There was no way for me to figure out the ending. I was left guessing the whole time, until the very end. There is a lot of speculation and finger pointing, which I enjoyed. I like to be surprised and boy, was I. I definitely recommend giving this a read if you haven't already.
MamaHendo More than 1 year ago
When Emma Davis was 13 she was sent to spend the summer at Camp Nightingale, a prominent retreat for girls from the wealthy families of New York. After arriving late she gets placed in a cabin with 3 older girls. Vivian, the alpha-roommate decides to take young Emma under her wing that doesn’t leave her immune to Viv’s deceptive ways. On the Fourth of July, Vivian, Allison & Natalie sneak out of the cabin in the middle of the night and are never seen again. Fast forward 15 years, Emma is living in the city and has made a solid career as an artist, more specifically a painter. Hidden within each of her works are the three girls who continue to haunt her all these years later. When the owner of Camp Nightengale decides it’s time to reopen she approaches Emma to be the camp’s art instructor, a job Emma accepts after deciding returning to the camp would be the best way to discover for herself what happened the last time she lied. Will returning to Lake Midnight help Emma close the door on her ghosts or will this decision prove to be a fatal one. Told through dual-timelines, Riley Sager has written the perfect twisty suspense novel to get you through the summer. This reminded me so much of the campy-summer thriller movies of my teenage years and I would love to see this on the big screen. I’m thinking Lucy Hale as Emma and maybe the Hemsworth brothers as Theo & Chet. Be sure to pick up a copy of “The Last Time I Lied” for your next beach day.
marykuhl More than 1 year ago
I read reviews that said this book didn't hold up to The Final Girls, lucky for me then this was the first book I have read by riley Sager. This book kept me guessing until the end. The last sentence of Part I had my jaw drop. I found my suspicions shifting to every one, right along with Emma. the only thing that frustrated me, was I knew where to look for the girls long before Emma did. Maybe it was the suspicions, the shock or just her overall disbelief that kept her from figuring that out. I truly didn't see the twist at the end and I was surprised at Emma, doing the right thing instead keeping loyalty or a secret. Overall, this is a sold 5 star for me. can't wait to read the author again.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This book was great from start to finish!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
The story grabbed me from the beginning to the end. What a fantastic ending. Love it.
Sensitivemuse More than 1 year ago
What I enjoyed about this one is the twists and turns happening all throughout the novel. You think it’s one thing, but it’s leading to another, yet out comes another possible solution to the mystery however it ends up being another red herring and so on. The guessing games keep the book on your toes. The plot flows through smoothly, alternating between past and present so you get a feel for the background story on the events leading up as to why Emma is back. There were times where you had to question her sanity because her behavior was erratic and unstable. As mentioned before, the guessing games throughout the novel kept the plot going and exciting to read. Expect mean girl behavior and shenanigans, and Emma’s character overall isn’t too likable but tolerable at the most. Vivian isn’t any better but the role she takes upon herself as a ‘big sister’ is endearing and gets instant idolization from Emma. What I loved the most about this book is I wasn’t expecting such a great ending. I was thinking it was going to be a lackluster one at the most with a simple explanation as to what was behind the girls disappearances. It’s not until literally, the last pages of the novel where you get hit with a mega surprise and it was instant mind blow. I was left shocked for a fair amount of time as it was expertly done. I heard more good things about Sager’s other works so I’ll definitely be picking them up. Hope they’re just as good as this one!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I'm a pretty avid mystery/thriller/crime novel reader and I tend to figure out the ending way before it happens. Didn't happen with this book! The characters were all well developed and you could tell who all was talking by their personalities. The dialogue didn't mesh into one which allowed a certain flow throughout he book. I never had to guess or reread to figure out who was saying what.
Teri_Caiazzo More than 1 year ago
This is a wonderful suspenseful book, that will keep you at the edge of your seat from beginning to the end. Emma Davis went to Camp Nightingale fifteen years ago, she was in a cabin with three older girls that went missing, and were never found. Emma never really got over it, but she is an artist, that keeps painting the three girls faces behind the wooded area, where she believes they disappeared. During the police investigation, she accuses the oldest son of the owner of the camp, of causing the disappearance of the girls. The camp owner now wants to re-open the camp, and asks Emma to be the art teacher there, though hesitant at first, she feels that she needs to be there, to possibly solve the mystery of the missing girls. This book takes many twists and turns, which is wonderful, and thrilling. I hope you enjoy this book as much as I did
Scarls17 More than 1 year ago
Riley Sager is a must read for me! I love that his thrillers are so entertaining that even if there wasn't a twist, they would still be a good read for me. BUT...his twists are also so good! I realllllllllly liked the ending of this book and I don't want to say ANYTHING about it.
tc3von More than 1 year ago
Our book club read this book and I can't wait to discuss!! 2 Truths and a lie: 1. You'll never guess the end. 2. I loved this book. 3. If you read this book you will be bored out of your mind. I COULDN'T PUT IT DOWN!! I loved the setting, the characters, the mystery and the ghosts...I will, for sure, be looking for more titles by Riley Sager. First sentence: This is how it begins. Last sentence: The time for lies is over.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Very entertaining and plenty of twist. This was a hard book to put down.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Great Book! Finished it in 2 days.
Theresa B More than 1 year ago
The Last Time I Lied was an unpredictable mystery.  I could not figure out who did it.  The main character, Emma Davis, is an artist.  She was the last person to see the girls that went missing and had been their friend.  When the summer camp re-opens, she is asked to be the art teacher.  She goes back to the camp 15 years later to try to figure out what happened to them.  Someone puts birds in her room and she knows someone is spying on her, but she doesn't who.  It's very creepy with a lot of twists and turns. It was told in alternating narratives from 15 years ago (when the girls went missing) to now.  The pacing was very fast paced and kept me on the edge of my seat. Great summer read!!
ABookAWeekES More than 1 year ago
"Sometimes a lie is more than just a lie. Sometimes it's the only way to win." I've recently recognized that a popular trend in the titling of thrillers has emerged amongst my reading list. It seems like every thriller with hopes of becoming the next best-seller has the word "lie" in their titles. Like many of the "girl" books that followed a similar trend after the success of Gone Girl, these "lie" books have had a pretty mixed result for me. Last year saw the breakout of author Riley Sager with his thriller Final Girls. Glowing reviews from many of my trusted blogging buddies and the fact that it had a "girl" title placed the novel on my TBR list. Alas, I never got around to reading it. When I got the chance to read Sager's latest novel The Last Time I Lied (see the word "lie" in the title?!), I eagerly jumped at the opportunity. As I started reading, I wasn't making comparisons to some of the other "lie" books that I've read. Rather, I kept thinking back to The Broken Girls by Simone St. James. Like that novel, The Last Time I Lied focuses on a main character who is haunted by the events of her past at a community institution for young girls. Unlike St. James, Sager steers clear of the supernatural, writing a story that is even more horrifying in the dark details of its ruthless reality. Emma has become renowned for her painting. Her series of dark forests on canvas have captured the imagination and renown of some of the art world's biggest names. Her admirers have no idea about the dark secrets that lie beneath the foliage of each painting. They have no idea about the secret that dates all the way back to her time as an attendee at Camp Nightengale. They have no idea that this secret is about to be brought out from behind the leaves and vines that Emma has desperately used to hide them. To go into any more details about the plot itself would ruin the fun and suspense for anyone planning to read it. Suffice it to say that this is an edge-of-your-seat read that kept me thoroughly engaged and guessing until the very end. Sager shifts between the present and past to reveal details about the characters and mystery surrounding the camp, expertly leading the reader through a maze of absorbing history and misdirection. As a protagonist, Emma strikes the right balance of inner turmoil and outer resolve. She works just as hard to solve the mystery as she does to come to terms with her emotional state. Sager beautifully manifests this internal struggle in the physical imagery of Emma's art. Amongst its other "lie" titled peers, The Last Time I Lied by Riley Sager stands out as a top-notch thriller that easily surpasses the generic confines of its promotionally driven name.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
readers_retreat More than 1 year ago
Having bought and absolutely devoured "Final Girls" Sager's debut I had super-high expectations for this one, his follow-up. As most readers know, expectations can be a double-edged sword - a book can either live up to them and proceed to blow your mind or let you down and leave you very disappointed. I am pleased to report that it is the former here, rather than the latter. In fact, I surprised myself by liking this one even more than the first! I feel it is far superior. Creepy and deliciously dark, "Last Time I Lied" has a series of spectacular twists scattered throughout. It starts off slow and steady but soon gathers place and from then it zips along. I particularly liked the dual narrative which helps to build the tension without introducing too many POV making it easy-to-follow. One slight gripe I had was that I felt there were too many characters involved in the story when there needn't have been. Despite this I enjoyed it immensely and I hope that Sager continues to write in this vein. I look forward to future books, if the first two are anything to go by it will be another stonker! I have no hesitation in recommending this to crime fans and in particular those who love an intriguing psychological thriller. Cleverly written, fresh and inventive you won't want to miss this one! Many thanks to Ebury Press for an ARC. I was not required to post a review and all thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.
CrazyCat_Alex More than 1 year ago
Things I learned from this book: 1. I’m glad I am not living in the 1900th because I certainly would be a candidate for the Asylum - you know, for reading.....a lot. 2. I have to thank my parents for never sending me to summer camp, it never is a great experience...ever. 3. We all know this one person (almost always it’s a girl), we think is our best friend, when really you got played....mine was called Suzy Emma’s story is told in alternating chapters between present day and 15 years ago, when the three girls from her cabin at summer camp go missing. That made, that I got a really good picture of Emma and her struggles. It was hard to see how she had all this problems even years after the event. And how much blame she put on herself. And just like Emma I had my suspicions about what had happened to the girls and who was responsible. In the end I didn’t get it right. I did not see this turn around coming..... And I loved it! It was perfect! Now I’m going to bug everyone with this book,