The Replacement: A Psychological Thriller | Book 2 | The New Hope Series (Ebook)
The Replacement: A Psychological Thriller | Book 2 | The New Hope Series (Ebook)
- Purchase the E-book
- Receive download link upon checkout + via email
- With one click, instantly send to any preferred e-reader and enjoy!
A riveting, powerful psychological thriller which offers a savage look into a utopian cultish society where beauty and perfection are valued at all costs.
About The Book
Statistically speaking, fifty percent of marriages end in divorce. What are the odds for murder?
Widower Tom Anderson is a savant with more affinity for numbers than people. Problem is, one is a lonely number. Thankfully, he solved for X by finding the perfect woman. It wasnât easy. Tom is very specific. He has to be.
Having checked âfind trophy wifeâ off his list, life was moving along swimmingly. Until that perfect woman let it slipâshe has a past. One she kept hidden, almost perfectly.
Sure, she liedâshe fudged the numbers. Most women do.
Now, Tom has buyersâ remorse and according to cult rules only two options: get rid of herâor single-handedly erase her past.
Sheâs a liar. But she does keep house well. And she makes a mean lasagna.
Decisions, decisions.
Razor-sharp and utterly gripping, this electrifying story explores the lengths one will go in the pursuit of perfection, little white lies that can turn lethal, and the danger lurking behind the smiles of those we trust most.
Read a sample
Read a sample
PROLOGUE
Â
What Iâm thinking isâŠthis isnât going to end well. At least not for me. How Iâm feeling is, not ready to die. What I know is, everybodyâs somebodyâs fool. And, whoever said small things donât matter, never lit a wildfire with a single match.
Letâs say you are at a stop light and in the car next to you is a girlâthe words âabout to dieâ stamped on her forehead, the word âdoomedâ written all over herâand letâs pretend that girl is me.
This is the opposite of a joke. This canât be real.
If only Iâd known then what I know now.
Unfortunately, rumination is useless at this point. Iâm on borrowed time, so I try once again to dial out. I reposition the phone. Itâs not working. I have half a bar, which basically amounts to no cell service. I try 9-1-1 and wait for a connection. Then I try Tomâs number. No luck there either.
Itâs hard to save your life when youâve downed half a bottle of scotch. The wine I used as a chaser didnât help.
This reminds me, I press the button for the Instalook app. Surely, out of fifty thousand followers, one of them can help me. Iâll go live when the time is right. Even without service, I can record.
I clear my throat, in search of my voice.
Testing, testing, one, two, three.
God, I hope you can hear me.
I speak low and carefully into the camera. I always forget which dot Iâm supposed to focus on, so I shift until Iâm sure Iâm front and center on the screen. I once read itâs all about the eyes. I turn and shift the phone so that itâs at a good angle for selfies. Beth taught me this little trick. Itâs a bit cramped in here and itâs dark, so Iâm sure if this is actually even working, it looks all Blair Witch Project. Youâre probably thinking, how do I even know this is for real? I donât know how to answer that except to say that I once saw a thing on TV about how many people witness a crime and do nothing. Itâs a very real thing. I know because it happened to me too. If I ever get out of here, Iâll tell you all about it. For now, itâs a rather long story, and Iâm afraid we havenât got time for it.
Anyway, I say into the camera. My voice comes out as a whisper. Squeaky, terrified. Meek. Not like me at all. Maybe this Instalook Live thing is working. I donât know. If you can even hear me, I donât know. But if you can, listen. And if youâre listening, this is the story of everything that went wrong.
Part confession. Part last rites. My final prayer.
Hear me. See me. Remember me.Â
Iâm trappedâon my way to my final destination, my eternal resting place. And there are so many things Iâd like to change but canât.
Iâm going to die. In the end, all Iâll ever be is just another lie on someoneâs lips.
This recording isâŠevidence. How very hopeful I was. How very stupid. So, if you can hear meâif youâre listeningâ it wasnât supposed to end this way. Not with me in the trunk of a car, headed for God knows where. Not with me dead.
I would have gone away quietly.
Itâs too late for that now.
My stomach churns. Choppy waters, this business of dying.
I feel nothing. I feel everything.
You fall to your highest level of preparation, he said that once. How prophetic.
Thatâs the problem. Well, thatâs one of them. I wasnât prepared. Not for this. Probably, I should have thought to stay sober. But no, one drink turned into two, which turned into⊠God knows how many. Look what youâve done.I was only trying to send a message. I should have known better.
Never let them take you to a second location. I should have forced him to kill me there. Itâs justâIâm not ready to die. I always thought Iâd be old. I thought Iâd have wrinkles and saggy skinâŠlaugh lines well earned.
You fall to your highest level of preparation. Of all of the lines he used, this is the one that sticks out the most. It taunts me, as though it could somehow help me now.My father used to say that too.Turns out, he was right.I shouldnât have let my husband skimp on our cell service. I should have argued that these things are important. Given the one thing that could possibly save my life says searchingâŠsearchingâŠsearchingâŠI should have fought harder. This thing that Iâm holding, this thing thatâs filming me. Itâs useless. Itâs basically just a holder for apps. A façade, like everything else. The illusion of safety.
My head swims.
Regret tastes horrible, in case youâre wondering.
Everything hurts.
You should have stuck to the plan.I know that now.
What I donât know is, how he plans to kill me. Will it be quick? Will the liquor dull the effects? Will he make me suffer?
You never should have gotten mixed up in this. I know that too.
I can still picture the night we met, him sitting at the bar. I can still hear the music. Jazz, I think. Focus. Only seven percent of any given message is based on the words. Thirty-eight percent comes from the tone of voice and fifty-five percent from the speakerâs body language and face.
âHave you any interest in playing a game?â he asked over his dirty martini. Funny, I can remember his expensive suit but not the expression he wore.
âDepends on the gameâŠâ Iâd said with a shrug. A playful, stupid shrug. That sums up what I wasâso sure of myself, so foolish in the end.
I remember he smiled. âItâs a fun one,â he assured me. I canât recall his tone.
He raised his finger, and the bartender placed another drink in front of me. Researchers have found that humans have a limited capacity for keeping focus in complex, stressful situations like negotiations. Less, if thereâs alcohol involved.Â
I remember feeling brave. Thatâs before I knew enough to know Iâm not. I cocked my head, took him in. âUnless youâre on the losing end.â
âAh, a skeptic,â he said. I remember he was handsome. Not spectacularly so, but enough to take notice. Not that it mattered. âLetâs start with truth or dare.â
I sipped my martini. His choice. I hadnât realized it wasnât a question. When itâs important, never lead with a question, always a suggestion.âIâm going to assume you want to go first soâŠtruth.â
Another smile. âExcellent choice,â he remarked. âIâve always had an affinity for the truth.â
You have to feel for the truth behind the camouflage; you have to note the small pauses that suggest discomfort and lies. Donât look to verify what you expect. If you do, thatâs what youâll find.âMost people do.â
âNow that there is a lie.â He shook his head slowly when he spoke. So cool. So confident. Breadcrumbs.âMost people only want the truth as long as it works out in their favor.â
âI canât speak for most people.â Maybe it was the drink. Maybe I was just feeding him what he wanted to hear. Maybe I was just naive. Itâs too late to know.
That all seems like a lifetime ago. The night we met.
He toasted me. âShall we begin?â
I lifted my brow and then my glass. âBegin away.â
Thatâs not really where it began. I know that now.
âDo you see yourself settling down?â
I almost choked. Sometimes, but not often, I was taken by surprise. Get on the same page at the outset. You have to clearly understand the lay of the land before you consider acting within its confines. Why are you there? What do you want? What do they want? Why?I didnât think to ask those questions. Not of myself and certainly not of him. âSettle down? You mean with a picket fence and two point five children?â
He stuck out his bottom lip, his shoulders rose to his ears. âSomething like that.â
I gave it some thought. My mind was already made up. âMaybe.â
âYou?â he said, eyeing my dress. âYou think you could be domesticated?â
I narrowed my eyes. Classic NLP. Neuro-Linguistic Programming. I didnât know then what I know now. Insult them at the onset; theyâll work harder to prove you wrong. âWhy not me?â I scoffed. I sat up straighter, mocking him as though I was offended. Maybe a part of me was.
He touched the rim of his glass to his lips. âYou donât think youâre too young?â
I laughed. âMy mother often reminds me that when she was my age, she was two years married and pregnant with me.â
His brow lifted. âIs your mother happy?â
I gulped my martini. âShe is now.â
âSo, you donât think most people are living a lie?â
âMeaning what?â
âIn marriage. Family. You donât think itâs all a show?â
âLike I said, I canât speak for most people.â
He spoke directly, affirmatively. âBut you think youâd be happy under such confined conditions?â
It was a leading question. I played right into it. âI think I could be, yes.â
âNot a skeptic then,â he decided. âAn idealist.â
âIs it not the truth you are seeking?â
He leaned back, away from me. Give them space. The further they fall. âYouâre good,â heâd said. âIâll give you that.â I waited while he glanced around the bar before turning his attention back to me. âI donât know.â I watched as he drummed his fingers on the table. âSomehow, I just donât see you as the type to be content with that sort of life.â
âYou donât know me.â
He knew me better than I thought.
âMaybe youâre right. But as the Danish folk say, âyou bake with the flour you have.â â His eyes were on my legs. I remember that.
âAre you Danish?â
âNo, but thatâs the point. You canât be what youâre not.â
âIâd have to be. Iâm not that good of a liar.â
He half-heartedly scoffed. âOh, Iâd beg to differ.â
I shook my head. âI keep the emotions real. Maybe not the rest, but the way I feel, Iâm not so good at hiding that.â
âIn that case, how about a dare?â
âHmmm,â I said, stalling. For what, I didnât know. âThose require a lot of trust.â I cocked my head studying him. âIâm not sure I know you well enough for that.â
âFaith,â he countered. âMore than trust.â
âRight.â
âIs that a yes?â
I smirked. âItâs a maybe.â
âHave dinner with me.â
âIs that your dare?â
âNot exactly.â
âWhat is it then?â
His eyes settled on mine. There was no hesitation in what he said next. âItâs an invitation to make the biggest mistake of your life.â
I started to tell him he had no idea how high the bar was set. Instead, I settled on, âsounds promising.â
âOh, it is.â
I sipped my drink slowly, when really I felt like downing the rest of it. I asked the bartender for a glass of water. âBut who would accept an offer like that?â
His expression was serious. âI was hoping you would.â
I smiled, which was in effect my answer.
Now, I realize he was wrong. That invitation wasnât the biggest mistake of my life. It wasnât any of the stuff that had happened before; it wasnât trusting the wrong person, or having one too many. Not that night. And not now, either. My biggest mistake was falling in love.
You leave me no choice. I drift back to a time when I had a choice. They say the mind goes to strange places when confronted with death.
The car accelerates, and I realize weâve reached the highway. Thereâs no turning back.
Put up a fight. How? And why, if you know you canât win? Even if I could somehow run for it, Iâd always be running. Sure, I could mess with the taillights, cross my fingers weâd get pulled over. I could try and locate the emergency hatch. At least this way, I will die an internet celebrity. This way my life will have meant something.
My breath comes heavier. I feel a panic attack coming on. Not that Iâve ever had one, but Iâve never cared for small, dark places.
Frantically, I search for wires. They make it look so easy in the movies. Here, in real life, itâs no use. I guess you donât always get so lucky. And anyway, Iâm not the captive of an amateur.
If you canât save yourself, save someone else. Leave clues like breadcrumbs. Theyâre more likely to find you that way.Â
I left my clothes. Pantyhose first, panties, and at last my bra. Like a proper drunk. And now, I leave you this. I canât be sure anyone will actually see it. I canât even make a call. But Instalook says there are eighteen thousand of you geared up, in queue, waiting to watch my demise, I say, my face centered on the screen. Many more before now. Some of you, I say into the camera, maybe most of you, wonât believe me. You may say this is fake. It doesnât matter. If believability is what you want, then I suggest sticking to the safety of the neatly colored lines of your own life. And for Godâs sake, if a hero is what youâre looking for, let me say this up front: youâre in the wrong story.
As for the rest of you, Iâm going to die. I promise a good show.
Return and Refund Policy
Return and Refund Policy
All digital products are non-refundable and non-returnable. By completing your purchase, you accept that digital products cannot be refunded, including if you mistakenly purchase a digital product, believing it to be a physical item.
Please review listings thoroughly before ordering.
FAQS: How will I receive my ebook?
FAQS: How will I receive my ebook?
Ebooks are delivered instantly by a link in your confirmation email (and as a backup, also by email from our delivery partner, Bookfunnel). It is a simple one click download to get the ebook to your favorite reading device.
FAQS: How will I read my ebook?
FAQS: How will I read my ebook?
You can read the ebooks on any ereader (Amazon, Kobo, Nook), your tablet, phone, computer, and/or in the free Bookfunnel app.