Twenty-two year old Alice has never known a normal life. Born mute, her overbearing father isolated her from the outside world while touring it himself as a travelling salesman. The only other significant person in her life is her neighbour Hallie and they communicate through sign language which Hallie learned especially for her.

Often gone for weeks at a time, Alice’s father leaves her in the care of her often fierce and unkind mother. But when Alice’s father is diagnosed with terminal cancer, he remains permanently at home. Waking day and night at his deathbed, Alice listens to her father’s feverish drug-induced ramblings until, in his final days, he confesses to having murdered several women.

Shocked and disbelieving, Alice confides in Hallie. Together, they vow to find the truth and journey her father’s old travel routes connected to various missing women, before discovering the real reason behind why she lost her ability to speak. And how she is connected to her father’s crimes.

Excerpt

I’ve never lived a normal life, at least not in comparison to people in all those books I’ve read over the years. Or to the characters in those soaps I secretly watch when mom runs off to the grocery store. I manage to catch about one and a half episodes before she returns, anxiously peeking out the window, only really half-enjoying what I’m watching.

She’s always fast. Her trips take no more than an hour, but it’s enough for me to sneak a glimpse of the real world out there, no matter how twisted television’s version of reality may be. I like it better when she goes out for other things like appliances, clothing, the hardware store. That takes more time, but it’s also more unpredictable. I linger behind the heavy drapes while I sit in her rocking chair, ready to fly out of the seat as soon as I hear her old, battered car roll up the driveway. That thing makes so much noise you could hear it from a mile away. By the time she’s inside the house, I’m already upstairs in my favorite reading chair, apparently lost in whatever world it is I’m reading about.

Everything I know of life comes from books, and only the ones Dad – and occasionally, Mom – gives me. I’m not allowed to choose my own. So I end up with an odd mixture of romance novels, children’s books, and thrillers. The latter are my favorite; I love reading about murder mysteries and how to solve them. Murder on the Orient Express, Murder on the Nile, the Endless Night… or stories about detectives in New York who solve crimes.

My books are my pride and joy. I have titles that are over seventy years old, like the one about Gulliver, who traveled to the strangest countries and returned with the oddest tales about tall and small people.

And all of my books are used, often torn and tattered. The oldest ones have notes in them, written in handwriting I can’t really read. I’ve kept them in my bedroom for as long as I can remember, and I’ve read them all multiple times.

Reading those books has shaped my vision of what life out there must be like. I sometimes imagine those huge cities with millions of people, all cooped up together in small apartments, sharing the crowded but dangerous streets.

I also dream of places like London or Paris where, according to my books, life is so wonderful that everyone wants to live there. I have a few picture books with images of the Eiffel Tower and Big Ben, and I know what Tower Bridge looks like. I’ve also seen pictures of the Twin Towers in New York, and the Brooklyn Bridge. It’s all so perfect that I yearn to go there some day and see it for myself.

But I am not allowed. My home is this house, with its four bedrooms, its huge basement, and the dusty, dark attic I never enter because it gives me nightmares. Kids should never be in attics anyhow. They’re dangerous places, but then so are cold and damp basements. I just stay on the ground floor, with its old kitchen and unpleasant living room, where my mom usually hangs out.

I’m not allowed in my parents’ bedroom, nor in the guestroom, where the only piece of furniture is a spare bed. I don’t even know why we have a guestroom, since I’ve never seen anyone visit us.

Most of my life is spent in two rooms. The first is my bedroom, with its four-poster bed, large cupboard and closet, and two windows. The largest one is shut; I am able to see part of the street, but most of my view is hidden behind a huge oak tree that must have been there forever. I have a book about trees, and given the width of it I figured out it must be at least a hundred years old. There is a massive drape in front of that window that I’m not allowed to fully open, so that part of the room is always dark.

The other window looks out on the neighbor’s house, but since they’re hardly ever there in winter, and always in the backyard in summer, I don’t have any contact with them. I can pry that window open just a bit, which allows some fresh air in – something I’m often in dire need of. I don’t like shut windows or closed drapes. Darkness scares me no end, so I sleep with the lights on.

The second room is adjoined to this one by a blue door I always keep open. At first, it was just a room with some boxes and junk, but when I turned twenty something changed. It was my birthday, the one day each year that I get a gift from Mom. A cake, some books, a furry animal or a doll. Every year, she brings me something, but it’s never something I wish for. I wanted to see New York or London, or the magical city of Paris, but I knew I could never have that. People like me aren’t allowed to go anywhere.

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About the Author

Sandra J. Paul is an award-winning author who has written over thirty novels, including various psychological thrillers. She has won various awards for her psychological thrillers, including best thriller of the Year in The Netherlands. She has also written various audiobook originals for Storytel Netherlands.

Her books have been translated in over fourteen languages. Her novel Dead Girls Don’t Talk is a TikTok hit in Belgium, The Netherlands and Germany and has been sold to Brazil.

Her novel Twisted has been sold to the US and will be released late 2024. Her novel My Truth has been opted for film or limited streaming series. The author has been shortlisted for various writing competitions, such as Coverfly Cinematic Book and Short Story competition.

Many of her books have been translated in various countries.

She lives with her partner, her three teenage sons and her cats in a small town near Antwerp, Belgium.