The Abyssinian Proof. The Camel Bookmobile. The Light of Evening. The Unfinished Novel and Other stories. From the Place in the Valley Deep in the Forest. Self's Punishment. Your cart Close. Go Search. Books Mary Torjussen Gone Without A Trace: a gripping psychological thriller with a twist readers can't stop talking about. Download Image Download Image. Imprint Headline Headline. Gone Without A Trace: a gripping psychological thriller with a twist readers can't stop talking about Mary Torjussen 5 Reviews Rated 0.
But that's not possible, is it? And there is worse still to come. Because just as you are searching for him, someone is also watching you. More books by Mary Torjussen. Left loading Praise for Gone Without A Trace: a gripping psychological thriller with a twist readers can't stop talking about. Readers also viewed.
More books by Mary Torjussen. On the big lower shelves Matt had kept his vinyl, hundreds of albums, all in alphabetical order by band, the more obscure the better. Things she brought into the relationship. However, when she arrives at home with the champagne, Matt is not home, nor any of his belongings. It's like the author was spinning a giant wheel of possible explanations including the likes of "aliens made them do it" and "it was all a dream" but instead landed on
Read two suspenseful chapters right now — and just try to tell me you haven't got goosebumps. I dropped my coat and bags on the polished oak floor and on automatic pilot stooped to steady the bottles as they tilted to the ground. I stepped forward and stared again. There was nothing on the wall. I turned and looked at the wall alongside the staircase. Charlie Parker was usually there, bathed in a golden light and facing Miles Davis. It had always looked as though they were playing together.
Both were gone. I looked around in disbelief.
kinun-houju.com/wp-content/bipotyfad/2127.php Had we been burgled? But why had they taken the pictures? On it, alongside the landline and a lamp, sat the silver and enamel Tiffany bowl that my parents had bought me when I graduated. Surely a burglar would have taken that? Quietly I took my handbag and backed out of the front door. On the path, safely away from the house, I took out my phone, uncertain whether to call the police or to wait for Matt. I stared at the house. Apart from the hallway, it was in darkness. The house on the other side had sold a month or two ago and its owners had long gone. Opposite us was the wide entrance to another road; the houses there were bigger, set well back with high hedges to stop them from having to view the rest of the estate.
Slowly I walked across the lawn to the living room window and looked through into the darkened room. At first I thought the television had gone.
That would definitely be burglars. Then I froze. The television had gone; that was true. It had surround sound and a huge fancy black glass table, and to be honest, it took up half the room. All of it had gone. On it was my old television, a great big useless thing that used to shine blue and flicker if there was a storm. It had been in the spare room all this time, waiting until we had the energy to chuck it out.
A car braked sharply in the distance and I jumped and turned, thinking it was Matt.
My skin suddenly felt very cold, though the evening was warm and still. I took a deep breath and pulled my jacket tightly around me. I went back into the house, shutting the door quietly. In the living room, I put the overhead light on, then quickly went to the window to draw the curtains, even though it was still light outside. I stood with my back to the window and looked at the room. Above the mantelpiece was a huge silver mirror and I could see my face, pale and shocked, reflected in it.
On the big lower shelves Matt had kept his vinyl, hundreds of albums, all in alphabetical order by band, the more obscure the better. All of the vinyl was gone. I turned to the other corner. His record player was no longer there; neither was his iPod dock. My old stereo was back; his had gone. I felt as though my legs were about to give way. I sat down on the sofa and looked at the room. My stomach was clenched so tightly I almost doubled over.
I took my mobile from my bag. At that moment, though, I had no pride. I wanted to talk to him, to ask him what was happening. I knew, though. I knew exactly what had happened. There were no missed calls, no new messages, no new emails. Suddenly furious — he might at least have had the decency to let me know — I clicked on Recent Calls and scrolled down to find his name so that I could call him. I frowned.
There was no record of that call on my phone.
I scrolled down further. Months of calls flashed by.
None of them was to him or from him. I felt as though I was going to faint and had to put my head down on my knees. After a few minutes, I looked back at the screen, clicked on Contacts and typed M for Matt, but nothing came up. Panicking, I typed S for his surname, Stone. My fingers were suddenly hot and damp, slipping on the screen as I scrolled down the list of text conversations.
Again, there were none to him and none from him, though we had sent a few each week.
We tended to do that rather than call lately. There were still messages to friends and to my parents and to Sam at work, but nothing to Matt. I sent him a message then, though he was only in the kitchen, asking him to bring a bottle of prosecco into the living room. I could hear him laugh when he read the message and he brought it in with some more chocolate mousse.
GONE WITHOUT A TRACE by Mary Torjussen is a chilling, twisty, compulsive thriller about a woman whose boyfriend has vanished. Fans of I LET YOU GO and. Gone Without a Trace [Mary Torjussen] on kinrarola.tk *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. A jaw-dropping novel of psychological suspense that asks, If the .
It took a while to scroll through them, as we sent several a week — several a day at times — but eventually I found the first one, wishing her a happy Christmas and telling her that Matt had bought me a Mulberry bag. My mind whirled. I switched the phone off and on again, hoping that might do something.
There were text messages from Katie, sent yesterday afternoon, asking me about my trip to Oxford today.