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Informationen zum Autor Sarah Zachrich Jeng Klappentext The Talented Mr. Ripley meets a darker version of Freaky Friday in this novel of revenge and friendship gone awry from author Sarah Zachrich Jeng. Before Elizabeth ruined Mary's life, they were as close as sisters. Years later, Elizabeth seems to have forgotten Mary exists. Mary hasn't forgotten her. She follows Elizabeth's every move online, obsessed with paying her back for the betrayal that damaged Mary's relationship with her family and set her on the path to failure. Now Mary has found a way to literally slip inside Elizabeth's skin, swap bodies with her, and steal her charmed life. Her career. Her looks. Her house. Her husband. They do say living well is the best revenge. And Elizabeth? She's stuck being Mary. She's lost everything, which is exactly what Mary intended. But nothing is ever as perfect as it looks from the outside. Before Mary can enjoy her new life, she has to take care of a few little problems. The vile messages that keep popping up in her inbox and seem like more than just trolling. Anonymous threats from someone who claims to know a secret that could blow up her whole life. The way her handsome, supportive husband hardly ever seems to be around. Mary won't give up on being Elizabeth; she's wanted it for too long. But the more she uncovers about what's really going on in Elizabeth's life, the more she realizes she may have made a deadly mistake. And she'll need the help of her worst enemy to stay alive. Story Locale: Michigan + Chicago Leseprobe 1 Mary Now I've just left my apartment, the cold hitting me like a snowball to the face, when Detective Johns appears. I was never charged in connection with what happened that Halloween, but attempted murder doesn't have a statute of limitations. It kills me that I didn't see this coming. As a child I hated when my parents said to "go play in the snow," because unsupervised time with other children never went well for me. It was only a matter of time until someone-often my brother, two years older and big enough that I could have fit stacked inside him like a matryoshka doll-would hold me down and force a handful of snow down my collar. Johns' attack is just as sudden, if more subtle. When he falls into step with me, I'm so startled, my worn boots slide out from under me on the icy sidewalk. He grabs my elbow. "Watch yourself, now. Those slips and falls can really mess you up." Did he just wink? I jerk my arm from his grasp, too rattled to pretend I don't recognize him. "Good to see you, Mary," he says. "It's been a while." Seven years. Anthony Johns was the lead detective, a bald Black man with hunched shoulders who spoke in a deep, soothing voice. His voice is still soothing. His presence outside my building, not so much. He smiles slightly. In contrast to my mismatched layers, his only outerwear is a black topcoat, unbuttoned to reveal the badge clipped to his belt. No hat shelters the shiny dome of his head from the cutting wind, yet he seems perfectly comfortable. Maybe the prospect of a new break in an old case is what warms him. "What do you want?" I say. "Every bit as direct as I remember." His tone is fond, as if he never told me I had nothing to gain by being a bitch. "Are you aware Garrett Deegan died a few months back?" "Of an overdose." The news made the rounds through Elizabeth's social media circles, people acting their asses off about what a great guy Garrett had been. How much they would miss him. How they'd had no idea of the demons he was battling. Please. The only battles Garrett ever fought were against people with a fraction of his power. In my opinion, he lived a lot longer than he should have. I don't say that to Johns, because I'm not stupid. Garrett's parents placed the blame f...
