Finalist for the 2018 International Thriller Writers Best Hardcover Thriller Award!
Named One of the Most Anticipated Thriller Novels Of 2017 by Bustle!
THE NEW CHILLING, PROPULSIVE NOVEL FROM THE AUTHOR OF THE INSTANT NEW YORK TIMES AND USA TODAY BESTSELLING BEHIND CLOSED DOORS.
If you can’t trust yourself, who can you trust?
Cass is having a hard time since the night she saw the car in the woods. It was on the winding rural road, in the middle of a downpour, and a woman was sitting insidethe woman who was killed. She’s been trying to put the crime out of her mind; what could she have done, really? It’s a dangerous road to be on in the middle of a storm, and she probably would have been hurt herself if she’d stopped. Not only that, her husband would be furious if he knew she’d broken her promise not to take that shortcut home.
But since then, she’s been forgetting every little thing. Where she left the car; if she took her pills; even the alarm code.
The only thing she can’t forget is that woman, the woman she might have saved, and the terrible nagging guilt.
And the silent calls she’s receiving, or the feeling that someone’s watching her…
You won't be able to put down B. A. Paris's The Breakdown, the next chilling, propulsive novel from the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Behind Closed Doors.
|Publisher:||St. Martin''s Publishing Group|
|Product dimensions:||6.20(w) x 8.90(h) x 1.20(d)|
About the Author
B.A. PARIS is the New York Times, USA Today, and internationally bestselling author of Behind Closed Doors. She grew up in England but has spent most of her adult life in France. She has worked both in finance and as a teacher and has five daughters. The Breakdown is her second novel.
Read an Excerpt
FRIDAY, JULY 17TH
The thunder starts as we're saying goodbye, leaving each other for the summer holidays ahead. A loud crack echoes off the ground, making Connie jump. John laughs, the hot air dense around us.
"You need to hurry!" he shouts.
With a quick wave I run to my car. As I reach it, my mobile starts ringing, its sound muffled by my bag. From the ringtone I know that it's Matthew.
"I'm on my way," I tell him, fumbling for the door handle in the dark. "I'm just getting in the car."
"Already?" His voice comes down the line. "I thought you were going back to Connie's."
"I was, but the thought of you waiting for me was too tempting," I tease. The flat tone to his voice registers. "Is everything all right?" I ask.
"Yes, it's just that I've got an awful migraine. It started about an hour ago and it's getting steadily worse. That's why I'm phoning. Do you mind if I go up to bed?"
I feel the air heavy on my skin and think of the storm looming; no rain has arrived yet but instinct tells me it won't be far behind. "Of course not. Have you taken anything for it?"
"Yes, but it doesn't seem to be shifting. I thought I'd go and lie down in the spare room; that way, if I do fall asleep, you won't disturb me when you come in."
"I don't really like going to bed without knowing you're back safely."
I smile at this. "I'll be fine, it'll only take me forty minutes. Unless I come back through the woods, by Blackwater Lane."
"Don't you dare!" I can almost sense a shaft of pain rocketing through his head at his raised tone. "Ouch, that hurt," he says, and I wince in sympathy. He lowers his voice to a more bearable level. "Cass, promise you won't come back that way. First of all, I don't want you driving through the woods on your own at night and, second, there's a storm coming."
"OK, I won't," I say hastily, folding myself onto the driver's seat and dropping my bag onto the seat next to me.
"Promise." I turn the key in the ignition and shift the car into gear, the phone now hot between my shoulder and ear.
"Drive carefully," he cautions.
"I will. Love you."
"Love you more."
I put my phone in my bag, smiling at his insistence. As I maneuver out of the parking space, fat drops of rain splatter onto my windscreen. Here it comes, I think.
By the time I get to the dual carriageway, the rain is coming down hard. Stuck behind a huge lorry, my wipers are no match for the spray thrown up by its wheels. As I move out to pass it, lightning streaks across the sky and, falling back into a childhood habit, I begin a slow count in my head. The answering rumble of thunder comes when I get to four. Maybe I should have gone back to Connie's with the others, after all. I could have waited out the storm there, while John amused us with his jokes and stories. I feel a sudden stab of guilt at the look in his eyes when I'd said I wouldn't be joining them. It had been clumsy of me to mention Matthew. What I should have said was that I was tired, like Mary, our Head, had.
The rain becomes a torrent and the cars in the fast lane drop their speed accordingly. They converge around my little Mini and the sudden oppression makes me pull back into the slow lane. I lean forward in my seat, peering through the windscreen, wishing my wipers would work a little faster. A lorry thunders past, then another and when it cuts back into my lane without warning, causing me to brake sharply, it suddenly feels too dangerous to stay on this road. More lightning forks the sky and in its wake the sign for Nook's Corner, the little hamlet where I live, looms into view. The black letters on the white background, caught in the headlights and glowing like a beacon in the dark, seem so inviting that, suddenly, at the very last minute, when it's almost too late, I veer off to the left, taking the shortcut that Matthew didn't want me to take. A horn blares angrily behind me and as the sound chases me down the pitch-black lane into the woods, it feels like an omen.
Even with my headlights full on, I can barely see where I'm going and I instantly regret the brightly lit road I left behind. Although this road is beautiful by day — it cuts through bluebell woods — its hidden dips and bends will make it treacherous on a night like this. A knot of anxiety balls in my stomach at the thought of the journey ahead. But the house is only fifteen minutes away. If I keep my nerve, and not do anything rash, I'll soon be home. Still, I put my foot down a little.
A sudden rush of wind rips through the trees, buffeting my little car and, as I fight to keep it steady on the road, I hit a sudden dip. For a few scary seconds, the wheels leave the ground and my stomach lurches into my mouth, giving me that awful roller-coaster feeling. As it smacks back down onto the road, water whooshes up the side of the car and cascades onto the windscreen, momentarily blinding me.
"No!" I cry as the car judders to a halt in the pooling water. Fear of becoming stranded in the woods drives adrenaline through my veins, spurring me into action. Shifting the car into gear with a crunch, I jam my foot down. The engine groans in protest but the car moves forward, plowing through the water and up the other side of the dip. My heart, which has been keeping time with the wipers as they thud crazily back and forth across the windscreen, is pounding so hard that I need a few seconds to catch my breath. But I don't dare pull over in case the car refuses to start again. So I drive on, more carefully now.
A couple of minutes later, a sudden crack of thunder makes me jump so violently that my hands fly off the wheel. The car slews dangerously to the left and as I yank it back into position, my hands shaking now, I feel a rush of fear that I might not make it home in one piece. I try to calm myself but I feel under siege, not only from the elements but also from the trees as they writhe back and forth in a macabre dance, ready to pluck my little car from the road and toss it into the storm at any moment. With the rain drumming on the roof, the wind rattling the windows and the wipers thumping away, it's difficult to concentrate.
There are bends coming up ahead so I shift forward in my seat and grip the wheel tightly. The road is deserted and, as I negotiate one bend, and then the next, I pray I'll see some taillights in front of me so that I can follow them the rest of the way through the woods. I want to phone Matthew, just to hear his voice, just to know I'm not the only one left in the world, because that's how it feels. But I don't want to wake him, not when he has a migraine. Besides, he would be furious if he knew where I was.
Just when I think my journey is never going to end, I clear a bend and see the rear lights of a car a hundred yards or so in front of me. Giving a shaky sigh of relief, I speed up a little. Intent on catching it up, it's only when I'm almost on top of it that I realize it isn't moving at all, but parked awkwardly in a small lay-by. Caught unaware, I swerve out around it, missing the right-hand side of its bumper by inches and as I draw level, I turn and glare angrily at the driver, ready to yell at him for not putting on his warning lights. A woman looks back at me, her features blurred by the teeming rain.
Thinking that she's broken down, I pull in a little way in front of her and come to a stop, leaving the engine running. I feel sorry for her having to get out of her car in such awful conditions and, as I keep watch in my rearview mirror — perversely glad that someone else has been foolish enough to cut through the woods in a storm — I imagine her scrambling around for an umbrella. It's a good ten seconds before I realize that she's not going to get out of her car and I can't help feeling irritated, because surely she's not expecting me to run back to her in the pouring rain? Unless there's a reason why she can't leave her car — in which case, wouldn't she flash her lights or sound her horn to tell me she needs help? But nothing happens so I start unbuckling my seat belt, my eyes still fixed on the rearview mirror. Although I can't see her clearly, there's something off about the way she's just sitting there with her headlights on, and the stories that Rachel used to tell me when we were young flood my mind: about people who stop for someone who's broken down, only to find there's an accomplice waiting to steal their car, of drivers who leave their cars to help an injured deer lying in the road only to be brutally attacked and find that the whole thing was staged. I do my seat belt back up quickly. I hadn't seen anyone else in the car as I'd driven past but that doesn't mean they're not there, hiding in the back seat, ready to leap out.
Another bolt of lightning shoots through the sky and disappears into the woods. The wind whips up and branches scrabble at the passenger window, like someone trying to get in. A shiver runs down my spine. I feel so vulnerable that I release the handbrake and move the car forward a little to make it look as if I'm going to drive off, hoping it will provoke the woman into doing something — anything — to tell me that she doesn't want me to leave. But still there is nothing. Reluctantly, I pull to a stop again, because it doesn't seem right to drive off and leave her. But neither do I want to put myself at risk. When I think about it, she hadn't seemed distressed when I'd driven past, she hadn't waved frantically or given any indication that she needed help, so maybe somebody — her husband or one of the breakdown services — is already on their way. If I broke down, Matthew would be my first port of call, not a stranger in a car.
As I sit there, dithering, the rain picks up speed, drumming urgently on the roof — Go, go, go! It makes my mind up for me. Releasing the brake, I drive off as slowly as I can, giving her one last chance to call me back. But she doesn't.
A couple of minutes later, I'm out of the woods and heading toward home, a beautiful old cottage with climbing roses over the front door and a rambling garden at the back. My phone beeps, telling me that the phone signal has kicked in. A mile or so further down the road, I turn into our drive and park as close to the house as possible, glad that I'm home safe and sound. The woman in the car is still on my mind and I wonder about phoning the local police station or the breakdown services to tell them about her. Remembering the message that came through as I drove out of the woods, I take my phone from my bag and look at the screen. The text is from Rachel:
Hi, hope you had fun tonight! Off to bed now as had to go straight to work from the airport so feeling v jet-lagged. Just wanted to check you got the gift for Susie? I'll call you tomorrow morning xx
As I get to the end I find myself frowning — why was Rachel checking to see if I'd bought Susie a present? I hadn't, not yet, because with the run-up to the end of the school year I'd been too busy. Anyway, the party isn't until tomorrow evening and I'd been planning to go shopping in the morning to buy her something. I read the message again and, this time, the words "the gift" rather than "a gift" jump out at me, because it sounds as if Rachel is expecting me to have bought something from the two of us.
I think back to the last time I saw her. It had been about two weeks ago, the day before she'd left for New York. She's a consultant in the UK division of a huge American consultancy firm, Finchlakers, and often goes to the U.S. on business. That evening, we'd gone to the cinema together and then on for a drink. Maybe that was when she'd asked me to get something for Susie. I rack my brains, trying to remember, trying to guess what we might have decided to buy. It could be anything — perfume, jewelry, a book — but nothing rings a bell. Had I forgotten? Memories of Mum, uncomfortable ones, flood my mind and I push them away quickly. It isn't the same, I tell myself fiercely, I am not the same. By tomorrow, I'll have remembered.
I stuff my phone back in my bag. Matthew's right, I need a break. If I could just relax for a couple of weeks on a beach, I'd be fine. And Matthew needs a break too. We hadn't had a honeymoon because we'd been busy renovating our cottage so the last time I'd had a proper holiday, the sort where you do nothing all day but lie on a beach and soak up the sun, was before Dad died, eighteen years ago. After, money had been too tight to do anything much, especially when I'd had to give up my job as a teacher to care for Mum. It was why, when I discovered shortly after she died, that rather than being a penniless widow, she was in fact wealthy, I was devastated. I couldn't understand why she'd been content to live with so little when she could have lived in luxury. I was so shocked I'd barely heard what the solicitor was saying, so that by the time I managed to grasp how much money there was I could only stare at him in disbelief. I'd thought my father had left us with nothing.
A crack of thunder, further away now, brings me sharply back to the present. I peer through the window, wondering if I can make it out of the car and under the porch without getting wet. Clutching my handbag to my chest, I open the door and make a dash for it, the key ready in my hand.
In the hall, I kick off my shoes and tiptoe upstairs. The door to the spare bedroom is closed and I'm tempted to open it just an inch to see if Matthew is asleep. But I don't want to risk waking him so instead I quickly get ready for bed, and before my head even touches the pillow, I'm asleep.
SATURDAY, JULY 18TH
I wake the next morning to find Matthew sitting on the edge of the bed, a mug of tea in his hand.
"What time is it?" I murmur, struggling to open my eyes against the sunshine streaming in through the window.
"Nine o'clock. I've been up since seven."
"How's the migraine?"
"Gone." In the sunlight his sandy hair looks golden and I reach up and run my hands through it, loving its thickness.
"Is that for me?" I ask, eyeing the mug hopefully.
I wriggle into a sitting position and sink my head back against the pillows. "Lovely Day," my favorite feel-good song, is playing on the radio downstairs and with the prospect of six weeks' holiday in front of me, life feels good.
"Thanks," I say, taking the mug from him. "Did you manage to sleep?"
"Yes, like a log. I'm sorry I couldn't wait up for you. How was your journey back?"
"Fine. Lots of thunder and lightning, though. And rain."
"Well, at least the sun is back out this morning." He nudges me gently. "Move over." Careful not to spill my tea, I make way for him and he climbs in beside me. He lifts his arm and I settle back into him, my head on his shoulder. "A woman has been found dead not far from here," he says, so softly that I almost don't hear him. "I just heard it on the news."
"That's awful." I put my mug on the bedside table and turn to look at him. "When you say not far from here, where do you mean? In Browbury?"
He brushes a strand of hair from my forehead, his fingers soft on my skin. "No, nearer than that, somewhere along the road that goes through the woods between here and Castle Wells."
"You know, Blackwater Lane." He bends to kiss me but I pull away from him.
"Stop it, Matthew." I look at him, my heart fluttering behind my ribs like a bird trapped in a cage, waiting for him to smile, to tell me that he knows I came back that way last night and is just teasing. But he only frowns.
"I know. It's horrible, isn't it?"
I stare at him. "Are you serious?"
"Yes." He looks genuinely puzzled. "I wouldn't make something like that up."
"But ..." I feel suddenly sick. "How did she die? Did they give any details?"
He shakes his head. "No, just that she was in her car."
I turn away from him so that he can't see my face. It can't be the same woman, I tell myself, it can't be.
"I have to get up," I say as his arms come round me again. "I need to go shopping."
"Susie's present. I still haven't got her anything and it's her party tonight." I swing my legs from the bed and stand up.
"There's no hurry, is there?" he protests. But I've already gone, taking my phone with me.
In the bathroom, I lock the door and turn on the shower, wanting to drown out the voice in my head telling me that the woman who's been found dead is the one that I passed in my car last night. Feeling horribly shaky, I sit down on the edge of the bath and bring up the Internet, looking for news. It's Breaking News on the BBC but there are no details. All it says is that a woman has been found dead in her car near Browbury in Sussex. Found dead. Does that mean she committed suicide? The thought is appalling.
Excerpted from "The Breakdown"
Copyright © 2017 Bernadette MacDougall.
Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Friday, July 17th,
Saturday, July 18th,
Friday, July 24th,
Saturday, July 25th,
Sunday, July 26th,
Monday, July 27th,
Wednesday, July 29th,
Friday, July 31st,
Sunday, August 2nd,
Tuesday, August 4th,
Wednesday, August 5th,
Friday, August 7th,
Saturday, August 8th,
Sunday, August 9th,
Monday, August 10th,
Wednesday, August 12th,
Thursday, August 13th,
Friday, August 14th,
Saturday, August 15th,
Friday, August 28th,
Tuesday, September 1st,
Sunday, September 20th,
Monday, September 21st,
Tuesday, September 22nd,
Monday, September 28th,
Tuesday, September 29th,
Wednesday, September 30th,
Thursday, October 1st,
Friday, October 2nd,
Also by B. A. Paris,
About the Author,
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Before Behind Closed Doors, I only had one favorite author. I read Behind Closed Doors and finished it thinking 'that was a great book'. But after reading this as well, I now know I have a second favorite author and I cant wait for more books! Great read!
Very predictable. If you think you have it figured out after the first few chapters, you have. A rehashed story line that's been done to death. Read her "Behind Closed Doors" instead. ~*~LEB~*~
The writing flowed wonderfully, the story never became stale, the characters and plot were captivating. A thoroughly enjoyable read.
Yes the plot line has been done before, yes it is predictable, but it is a great story line that kept me interested all the way through it. I will definitely read more by this author. It was very well written.
While her first novel Behind Closed Doors was a grabber, B. A. Paris lets her readers down with this highly predictable story . Well written , but it has been done so many times before it was like watching a movie over again for the 10th time !
Enjoyed Behind Closed Doors but this was slow,boring wnd predictable. Pass in this book and save the money.
This is definitely hard to put down. I was just a little disappointed because the end was rather predictable. However, I still highly recommended it.
Couldn't put it down. Kept me thinking and guessing throughout twists and turns
Excellent book. Love the suspense. The characters are real and the story keeps you guessing.
Sample was the best part. It is downhill after that. Not worth ten bucks. Boring, contrived and often insipent. In between the switching from past to present is mind bogling, it does not work. The ending is abrupt and left me feeling annoyed that i wasted my time.
I was a little disappointed in the book I kept waiting for it to get suspenseful and exciting That eventually happened in the last 30 pages Wished the author could've reeled me in sooner
I was rather disappointed with this novel. I did love her first one but I figured out the plot of this one by the 4th chapter. It's an old plotline that's been done to death in the USA. Of course B. A. Paris is from the UK and perhaps this particular plot line is not as popular over there. I kept reading as she threw in some red herrings but in the end, it ended exactly as how I thought it would after I read the first four chapters. Yes it is amazingly written and I enjoyed that part of the book. But if you are a regular reader of suspense/thrillers you, like me, will figure out what is going on very quickly. And you will be right. The Author makes is so obvious who done it. The characters are written in such a way that it's like she WANTS us to know how the book will end after you've read the first four chapters. So if you read the first four chapters and say to yourself "ah ha, well it's obvious what is going on", you are probably correct so unless you enjoy her writing, put the book down and read something else.
I was very disappointed with this book. You can figure it out in the first 20 pages. I ended up skimming most of the book to get finished I do not understand how some readers could not put it down.
I received an advanced copy from the publisher via Netgalley for an honest review. Oh my goodness, I thought the first novel B.A. Paris was spectacular and I was a little worried that, can she do this again.....ummmm ABSOLUTELY!!! This novel focuses on our main character Cass who feels like she made a mistake on a stormy evening without being a polite human being and now she feels a killer is after her. Cass is relying on the love of her long time best friend/almost sister as they grew up together and her wonderful husband of just one year. Cass slowly feels like she is forgetting and losing her mind over all these strange things occurring. This author keeps the tension rolling and she has such a unique ability to make the reader think 'I have got this figured out' to the point that the main character in the novel is coming to the SAME conclusions the reader is having and then...............mic drop, reader and character are wrong and BAM, here's the truth! I love mystery, thriller, psychological books and a lot of times I figure them out or at least some of it. For this novel, that was a big NOPE! I was completely surprised and DID NOT want to put this novel down from the beginning! Amazing and this is an author I am absolutely sticking with since she has proven she is NOT just a one hit wonder.
I have been a fan of B.A. Paris from the outset, with her debut novel Behind Closed Doors. If you enjoy psychological thrillers that really turn your head upside down, I highly recommend this author. I'm only sorry that it's taking me so long to read her subsequent works, and that this one sat on my shelf long enough to constitute a blogger shame book. So I apologize to both the author and the publisher here for getting so far behind! What we have here with The Breakdown is a woman's spiral into madness and seeming-dementia. After she sees a woman broken down during a storm and fails to stop and render aid, then later finds out the same woman, an acquaintance of hers, was murdered, Cass starts a downward spiral into paranoia, guilt, fear, forgetfulness and confusion. It was sad to watch the downard descent of this once-vibrant woman, and the author takes you along the maddening ride right along with our protagonist. But we are never quite sure if all of the madness is happening in Cass' head, or if she really is being stalked by a murderer. While I had an inkling of the "true" storyline, it didn't detract from the events that were happening on the page. Once I started reading, I was riveted and couldn't put the book down. And when all was revealed, I felt the same sense of treachery and my mind was blown just the same as if I had been Cass, barely a step away from being committed. I loved it... so that probably means that something is seriously wrong with me. LOL I voluntarily reviewed an advanced copy of this book that I received from the publisher.
Cass is out with her co-workers celebrating the end of school year when a huge storm begins to brew. She decides to head for home promising her husband, Matthew, that she won't take the shortcut through the woods. Driving conditions are terrible on the main roads so she decides to make a break for it and head in the direction she said she wouldn't. She'd get there faster this way anyway. Sheets of rain are coming down as she nears the end of the lane. She can finally see another set of lights ahead of her and hurries on to catch up so they can share the use of headlights for the remainder of the drive but as she gets closer she sees that the car isn't moving but instead is parked in the lay-by. Annoyed that she now has to squeeze past she flashes the woman inside a dirty look as she passes. Realizing this woman might be in trouble out here all alone in the woods, Cass decides to pull over as well. When the woman makes no effort to get out or signal for help, Cass decides to continue on and call the police when she regains cell service once she clears the woods...something she ultimately forgets to do. When she wakes the next morning, Matthew informs her there has been a murder not 5 minutes from their home. A woman in the woods was found dead in her car. Knowing Matthew would be furious with her if she told him she returned that way last night she keeps her run-in with the woman to herself but when the silent phone calls starting coming, Cass begins to wonder did Jane's killer see her that night? Does he know who she is? This was my first book by B. A. Paris (big thanks to my friend who recommended!) and it certainly won't be my last. When an author keeps you up until 1 a.m. you know you've found a gem. Add this to your TBR list immediately.
Enjoyed this book hard time putting it down finished in 2 days
I loved this book! I read it in a couple of days. You have to give this book a try if you like good psychological thrillers. You will not be disappointed!
I read this book after I read “Behind Closed Doors.” I was not disappointed!
I didn't want to put Breakdown novel down, as Paris has ability to engage reader till the end! However, early on I did figure out who the murderer was & because of jealousy. I figured out early on that Matthew was the silent caller on the black phone. Once Cass found out , I knew the ending. The GREATEST novel is Behind Closed Doors by BA Paris!!! Very suspenseful, creative, intreaging, and fun to read! Gets all five stars! I really couldn't put that book down.
Wow! A thrilling read. Great story, lots of twists and turns. I had to keep reading to see if my hunch was right or completely wrong! A definite recommendation!
I could not put this book down! It was so good
I don't normally read psychological thrillers because they trigger issues for me but this is our book club book this month so I read it. It's a good story. I was sucked into from the first moment (of course, I did have all the lights on.) I guessed what was happening to her within the first chapter and I was right. I knew her husband was up to no good and I was right. I did not guess the murderer and was only half right on the reason for the murder. I was guessing up to the end on how it would all fall into place. Luck was on Cass' side and she deserved it. I'll read this author again.
This is a suspenseful story about a young woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Cass (Cassandra) is happily married, has lots of friends with one BFF, Rachel. She works as a teacher and is very good at her job. Both her parents are dead, her mother from early onset dementia. Her husband Matthew does not know about her mother's death. Cass is driving home one night and she sees a car on a road that is used as a shortcut through the forested area. Although she stops to check on the driver, she leaves the scene. The next day, she finds out that the driver of this car, "Jane", has been killed. Cass is riddled with guilt about not stopping. Could she have saved this woman from death if she had stopped? She starts to forget things, lose things, and can feel reality sinking away? She begins to fear that she is developing early onset dementia as well. This is written in the first person, and you can feel Cass' fear and terror as she begins to realize that she may be going developing dementia or having a nervous breakdown. There is a lot of twists and turns in this story that keep you wondering what is going to happen next. The story takes a bit to develop but stick with it because everything comes together in an amazing conclusion. I loved this book, but it is scary to realize that you never know who your real friends are. The publisher generously provided me with a copy of this book via Netgalley. The opinions expressed are my own.