A good host notices everything. That's exactly the problem.
Three years ago, Marnie's sister drowned off Cleve Bay. Three years ago, the whole town grieved with her. Now Marnie lets out the little flat above the old lifeboat station to strangers, leaves the milk in a jug and the hall light on, and keeps her four-point-nine stars spotless.
Then a booking arrives at 11:51 on a Tuesday - for the week of the anniversary - under a name that isn't quite a name.
The review attached to it is five stars. Spotless. Beautiful light. And one line more:
And she always leaves the hall light on for you.
Nobody knows about the hall light. Nobody living.
As the guest checks in - somehow already inside, already known, Marnie realises the visitor has been coming back for a year under different names, that they know what's behind the one locked door she never opens, and that they know her dead sister's most private secret.
Someone is sending a message only a drowned woman could send. A retired magistrate downstairs is writing a murder mystery that's edging too close to the truth. A quiet detective keeps tidying a file that won't lie down. And the closer everyone looks, the less certain it becomes whether Marnie is being haunted, hunted
or hiding something herself.
Perfect for readers of Freida McFadden, Lisa Jewell, and Alice Feeney - a twisty, unputdownable psychological thriller about grief, sisters, and the lies we host.
You'll never read a five-star review the same way again.