Somebody I Used to Know

Somebody I Used to Know

The bestselling author of Somebody's Daughter  and Cemetery Girl , “one of the brightest and best crime fiction writers of our time” ( Suspense Magazine ) delivers a pulse-pounding thriller about a man who is haunted by a face from his past... When Nick Hansen sees the young woman at the grocery store, his heart stops. She’s the spitting image of his college girlfriend, Marissa Minor, who died in a campus house fire twenty years earlier. But when Nick tries to speak to her, she acts skittish and rushes off. The next morning the police arrive at Nick’s house and show him a photo of the woman from the store. She’s been found dead, murdered in a local motel, with Nick’s name and address on a piece of paper in her pocket. Convinced there's a connection between the two women, Nick enlists the help of his college friend Laurel Davidson to investigate the events leading up to the night of Marissa’s death. But the young woman’s murder is only the beginning...and the truths Nick uncovers may make him wish he never doubted the lies. Praise for  Somebody I Used to Know “Distinctive characters and a smartly crafted plot.”— Publishers Weekly   “Filled with twists and turns that will have you forgetting everything you are supposed to do until you reach the very last page…David Bell sure knows how to rope the reader in.”—Fresh Fiction   “A well-written, well-timed, steady-paced mystery.”—Shelf Addiction   “Bell has a knack for writing suspenseful crime fiction with strong emotional, human elements, and his latest,  Somebody I Used to Know , is no exception…A perfect read for fans of dark mysteries and crime thrillers mixed with poignant family drama.”—Book of Secrets More Praise for David Bell “One of the brightest and best crime fiction writers of our time.”— Suspense Magazine   “A natural storyteller and a superb writer.”—#1 New York Times Bestselling Author Nelson DeMille “David Bell writes spellbinding and gripping thrillers that get under your skin and refuse to let go."— New York Times Bestselling Author Linwood Barclay David Bell is a USA Today bestselling, award-winning author whose work has been translated into multiple foreign languages. He’s currently an associate professor of English at Western Kentucky University in Bowling Green, Kentucky, where he directs the MFA program. He received an MA in creative writing from Miami University in Oxford, Ohio, and a PhD in American literature and creative writing from the University of Cincinnati. His novels include Somebody’s Daughter , Bring Her Home , Since She Went Away , The Forgotten Girl , Never Come Back , The Hiding Place , and Cemetery Girl . Praise for the Novels of David Bell ALSO BY DAVID BELL For Molly CHAPTER ONE When I saw the girl in the grocery store, my heart stopped. I had turned the corner into the dairy aisle, carrying a basket with just a few items in it. Cereal. Crackers. Spaghetti. Beer. I lived alone, worked a lot, and rarely cooked. I was checking a price when I almost ran into the girl. I stopped immediately and studied her in profile, her hand raised to her mouth while she examined products through the glass door of the dairy cooler. I felt like I was seeing a ghost. She looked exactly like my college girlfriend, Marissa Minor, the only woman I had ever really loved. Probably the only woman who had ever really loved me. The girl didn’t see me right away. She continued to examine the items in front of her, slowly walking away from me, her hand still raised to her mouth as though that helped her think. The gesture really got me. It made my insides go cold. Not with fear, but with shock. With feelings I hadn’t felt in years. Marissa used to do the very same thing. When she was thinking, she’d place her right hand on her lips, sometimes pinching them between her index finger and thumb. Marissa’s lips were always bright red—without lipstick—and full, and that gesture, that lip-twisting, thoughtful gesture, drove me wild with love and, yes, desire. I was eighteen when I met her. Desire was always close at hand. But it wasn’t just the gesture that this girl shared with Marissa. Her hair, thick and deep red, matched Marissa’s exactly, even the length of it, just below her shoulders. From the side, the girl’s nose came to a slightly rounded point, one that Marissa always said looked like a lightbulb. Both the girl and Marissa had brown eyes, and long, slender bodies. This girl, the one in the store, looked shorter than Marissa by a few inches, and she wore tight jeans and knee-high boots, clothes that weren’t in style when I attended college. But other than that, they could have been twins. They really could have been. And as the girl walked away, making a left at the end of the aisle and leaving my sight, I remained rooted to my spot, my silly little grocery basket dangling from my right hand. The lights above were bright, painfully so, and other shoppers came past with their carts and their kids and their li