Mariah stood up, reached for the robe at the foot of the bed, and slipped into it, tying the sash around her slender waist. But this is different, she thought. My father did not die a natural death. He was shot while he was reading at his desk in his study downstairs. Her mouth went dry as she asked herself again the same questions she had been asking over and over. Was Mom in the room when it happened? Or did she come in after she heard the sound of the shot? And is there any chance that Mom was the one who did it? Please, God, don’t let it turn out to be that way..
Excerpt from THE LOST YEARS by Mary Higgins Clark
Copyright © 2012 by Mary Higgins Clark. Reprinted by permission of Simon & Schuster, Inc, NY. For more on Mary and her new book The Lost Years go to SimonandSchuster.com