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Informationen zum Autor Ana Reyes is the New York Times bestselling author of Reese's Book Club pick The House in the Pines. She has an MFA from Louisiana State University and teaches creative writing. She lives with her husband in Easthampton, Massachusetts. Klappentext "A captivating psychological suspense debut about a young woman still haunted by her teenage best friend's death who learns of an eerily similar death and must find her way back to a cabin in the New England woods, armed only with hazy memories, to finally find out the truth that has eluded her. Maya was a high school senior when her best friend Aubrey mysteriously dropped dead in front of the enigmatic man, Frank, they'd been hanging around with all summer. Seven years later, Maya is just managing to move on; she lives in Boston with a loving boyfriend and is finally kicking the secret Klonopin habit that's allowed her to cope with what happened all those years ago. But her past comes back to haunt her when she discovers a recent YouTube video in which a young woman suddenly keels over in a diner sitting across from none other than Frank. Plunged back into the trauma that has defined her life, Maya heads to her small Berkshires hometown to finally figure out the truth about what happened. With guidance from the half-written book by the father in Guatemala she never knew, Maya's quest for answers forces her to relive that fateful summer-the influence Frank once had on her and the jealousy that nearly destroyed her friendship with Aubrey-finally leading her back to Frank's cabin in the woods. The House in the Pines is an utterly unique and surprising thriller about the subtlety of memory and manipulation, confronting the past, and the powerful and lasting bonds of family and friendship"-- Leseprobe One Maya didn't know it yet, but the video had already begun to circulate on social media. A grainy six-minute stretch of security footage that was strange and unsettling enough to garner several thousand views the day it went up, but not quite lurid enough to go viral, not ghastly enough to inspire repeat viewings. Not for most people, anyway. But for Maya, its existence would upend all that she'd been building for herself these past few years, this sometimes sloppy but mostly solid life that she shared with Dan, who snored quietly beside her in bed. She hadn't yet seen the video because she was avoiding all screens, not wanting their blue light to keep her awake. She had tried everything to sleep: Benadryl, melatonin, counting backward from a hundred down to one. She had turned the clock around, taken a bath and some cough syrup, but none of it helped. This was her third sleepless night in a row. She had moved in with Dan earlier this month and could easily draw from memory the shape of every water stain on the ceiling. The branching lines of every crack. Turning onto her side, Maya reminded herself to get curtains. The space heater at the foot of the bed clicked on, a white noise she usually liked, but now the rattle of its metal grille grated on her. Kicking off the covers, she got out of bed and pulled on a flannel shirt over her underwear. The apartment was cold, the central heat only partially effective, but her skin was damp with sweat. The chilled wooden floor felt good on her feet as she made her way down the dark hall, passing the second bedroom, empty now except for the exercise bike that she and Dan had bought off Craigslist. She'd never done much to decorate any of the apartments she'd shared with the various roommates she'd had since college-no posters, no pictures in frames, not so much as a throw pillow-but lately she'd begun popping over to T.J. Maxx after leaving work at Kelly's Garden Center just across the parking lot and heading straight for the home dŽcor section. Buying end tables, area rugs, and other things she couldn't really afford. Maya had plans for th...
