Last Night, page 1
PRAISE FOR LUANNE RICE
The Shadow Box
“Rice’s compelling heroine and crisp prose lift her brisk thriller . . .”
—Kirkus Reviews
“[A] gripping psychological thriller . . . Prepare to be up all night reading.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Decades-old crimes lead to current murder in a case unwound through the efforts of strong women. With a core of appealing characters, bestselling author Rice—known for domestic fiction and romance—has the makings of a promising mystery series here.”
—Booklist
“The Shadow Box is a heart-stopping yet enthralling breath of sea air, with as much dark beauty as one of Claire Beaudry Chase’s own shadow boxes. It’s also a resolute testimonial of inner strength, no matter how far from our plots and plans life takes us.”
—The Big Thrill
“The Shadow Box is a captivating read as much for its illuminating portrayal of domestic disenchantment as for its requisite, and robustly handled, mystery elements. Ultimately, Luanne Rice has given us a deeply affecting meditation on how we both lose and find ourselves, proving once again that she’s a luminary in any, and all, literary realms of her choosing.”
—Criminal Element
“The Shadow Box is Luanne Rice at her dazzling best. Filled with dark family secrets and wells of deep emotion, this novel will stick with you long after you’ve finished reading.”
—Harlan Coben, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Match
“As always, Luanne Rice gives us characters so real they feel like family and families so flawed they give us chills. Shocking, compassionate, and told with the unerring eye of a true and gifted observer, The Shadow Box will keep you turning the pages long past your bedtime.”
—Tami Hoag, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Boy
“A clever protagonist in extreme danger pitted against a cruel and powerful circle made the stakes in The Shadow Box so high I could barely stop reading for a drink of water. Luanne Rice creates a thrillingly compelling tale of common cruelty, high ambition, and the courage it takes to oppose them. Well done!”
—Barbara O’Neal, Wall Street Journal and USA Today bestselling author of When We Believed in Mermaids
“Every family has secrets, but in Luanne Rice’s clever thriller The Shadow Box, the truth won’t set you free—it will put you in a shallow grave . . . particularly if you live in the posh Connecticut enclave of Catamount Bluffs, where corruption, kidnapping, and murder are only a few of the community’s hidden sins.”
—Lee Goldberg, #1 New York Times bestselling author
Last Day
“In a family drama that is as suspenseful as it is empathetic, Rice again displays her ability to portray female friendship and the pain of loss.”
—Booklist (starred review)
“Rice keeps the reader guessing as she gradually doles out long-hidden family secrets. Fans of intense family dramas will be rewarded.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Strong love overcomes pain in this latest from Rice (Pretend She’s Here), which combines suspense with stories of survivors, sisterhood, best friends, and small communities shaken by violence or death.”
—Library Journal
“A riveting story of a seaside community shaken by a violent crime and a tragic loss.”
—Brooklyn Digest
“From the exquisite opening, through twists and torment, this domestic thriller weaves an irresistible story of family and friends, trust and betrayal, love and murder.”
—Suspense Magazine
“Luanne Rice’s opening pages of Last Day illustrate elegant writing at its finest. Twist after twist is guaranteed to keep readers guessing all the way to the surprises in the final pages . . . a sheer pleasure to read. Rice, the author of more than 30 books, is a master at writing descriptions and portraying story settings, a skill other writers admire and strive to acquire.”
—New York Journal of Books
“The themes of love, loss, sisterly devotion, betrayals, and family ties are skillfully interwoven. [Rice] provides just enough intriguing detail to make the reader want to learn more . . . She once again doesn’t disappoint in this novel.”
—LymeLine.com
“Last Day by Luanne Rice is a gripping psychological suspense story. It starts out with an intensity from page one that never lets up.”
—Crimespree Magazine
“If you’re a fan of Shari Lapena or Ruth Ware, order this book and get ready to be sucked in. It’s one of the best books of the year so far.”
—GQ magazine
“A compulsive thriller . . .”
—The Patriot Ledger
“Lovely, lyrical—and lethal. Luanne Rice turns her talents in a new direction and succeeds completely.”
—Lee Child, #1 New York Times bestselling author
“Luanne Rice is the master of small towns with big secrets. With a deft touch, she draws us into a picture-postcard New England village, behind the closed doors of a well-loved home with its beautiful gardens and perfect family, only to expose the truths within. Surprising, powerful, a total page-turner.”
—Lisa Scottoline, New York Times bestselling author of Someone Knows
“In Last Day, Luanne Rice shows once again her unique gift for portraying the emotional landscape of a family. By adding a riveting thread of suspense, she proves beyond the shadow of a doubt that love and murder make brilliant bedfellows.”
—Tess Gerritsen, New York Times bestselling author of The Shape of Night
“Last Day, by Luanne Rice, shines with its brilliant plot about four women friends, their families and loves, and, shockingly, a murder. Rice’s writing is flawless and fast, her characters are like the women I have coffee with, and the desire, violence, and betrayals shock me and remind me of Liane Moriarty’s Big Little Lies.”
—Nancy Thayer, New York Times bestselling author of Surfside Sisters
“A dark family history. A deeply flawed marriage. The complicated tangle of the ties that bind. Luanne Rice writes with authenticity and empathy, unflinchingly exploring her characters and diving into the shadowy spaces where they hide their secrets. Like all great stories, Last Day is a compulsive, twisting mystery dwelling inside a searing portrait of what drives us, as riveting as it is human and true.”
—Lisa Unger, New York Times bestselling author of The Stranger Inside
“A brutal murder, a failed marriage, secret lovers, and enough suspects to fill a room. The truth lies somewhere between betrayal and love. A compelling mystery you won’t put down or solve until the final pages.”
—Robert Dugoni, New York Times and Amazon Charts bestselling author of the Tracy Crosswhite series
“I’ve long loved Luanne Rice for her trademark elegant style and her deep understanding of familial relationships, and she brings these superpowers with her as she delves into suspense. Last Day is a true page-turner, peopled by characters I care deeply about, with an ending I never saw coming.”
—Joshilyn Jackson, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of Never Have I Ever
OTHER TITLES BY LUANNE RICE
The Shadow Box
Last Day
Pretend She’s Here
The Beautiful Lost
The Secret Language of Sisters
The Night Before
How We Started
The Lemon Orchard
Little Night
The Geometry of Sisters
The Letters (with Joseph Monninger)
The Silver Boat
Secrets of Paris
What Matters Most
Sandcastles
Summer’s Child
The Deep Blue Sea for Beginners
Blue Moon
Home Fires
Dance With Me
Stone Heart
The Edge of Winter
Light of the Moon
Last Kiss
Follow the Stars Home
Firefly Beach
Summer Light
True Blue
Safe Harbor
The Perfect Summer
The Secret Hour
Silver Bells
Summer of Roses
Beach Girls
Dream Country
Cloud Nine
Crazy in Love
Angels All Over Town
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Otherwise, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2024 by Luanne Rice
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Thomas & Mercer, Seattle
www.apub.com
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Thomas & Mercer are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.
ISBN-13: 9781542030199 (hardcover)
ISBN-13: 9781542030205 (paperback)
ISBN-13: 9781542030212 (digital)
Cover design by Kimberly Glyder
Cover image: © DenisTangneyJr, © Walter Bibikow, © Adrian Zurbriggen / 500px / Getty Images
First edition
To Andrea Cirillo
and the spirit of Agnes Martin
With love
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
1
The path to the beach was deep with snow. It covered the thickets on both sides, creating rounded shapes that looked like sea animals, like the white beluga whales at the aquarium. It softened everything and turned the world cold. The shape in the middle of the path was buried, and no matter how she tried to dig the snow away, it just kept falling and falling, so the face wasn’t a face anymore; it was just a lump.
The snow was white except for the pink, but even that little bit of color went away as the storm got stronger and the evening got darker.
Her fingers were frozen in her mittens. She squeezed and squeezed her hands, but that didn’t work. Her chest was full of tears. Screams were trapped in her throat. She wanted to let them out because they might bring help, but she was more afraid they might bring the bad person back.
Her feet had been the warmest part of her body because when they were in the yellow hotel where they lived, her mommy had put thermal socks on her and laced up her boots for a walk on the beach. They always walked in the rain here in Rhode Island, and in the snow this winter, but tonight was extra exciting because the wind was howling, the flakes were falling fine and fast, and there were big waves.
“We’re having a blizzard, CeCe!” her mother had said.
“What’s a blizzard?” CeCe had asked. She was six, and this was new to her.
“A gigantic snowstorm that we’ll talk about forever. When you’re grown up and I’m old, we’ll say, ‘Remember the blizzard, when we went to the beach?’”
“And built a snowman!” CeCe had said. “Can we?”
“Not sure about that,” Mommy said. “We’re just going to make a quick trip down there to see my friend and take some pictures. We want to get back before it gets really dark.”
“Papa?” CeCe asked.
Mommy didn’t answer. She had said she wasn’t sure if they could build a snowman, but just in case, CeCe ran around the hotel room and filled her pockets with things to decorate one with: grapes from the cheese platter for eyes, a red Christmas tree bulb for a nose, and a length of gold ribbon to make a smile. She had Star, too. Star was all that was left of her baby blanket, and even though she was six, she carried it with her everywhere.
Then Mommy finished tying CeCe’s laces, and they walked out of their pretty new home with the big windows overlooking the ocean. They had moved to the big yellow hotel during the summer, when the sand was hot and the sea was blue, and they had stayed there all autumn, when the leaves were the color of sunshine and fire.
That first night in the suite where they were going to live from now on, Mommy had shown her the five towers with blinking red lights, far away across the sea, behind a low line of land that she said was Block Island. Mommy had said the lights were on windmills standing in the ocean. CeCe counted them: one, two, three, four, five. A little later she fell asleep.
As the drifts piled up around her on the beach path, CeCe thought of the red windmill lights and the warm hotel. She thought of how happy she felt going down in the hotel elevator. It was made of wood, with a fancy black grate, and it felt like a little room. Mommy had said it was very old; she remembered it from when she was a little girl. CeCe loved that she was allowed to push the button that took them to the lobby—all full of Christmas trees and tiny sparkling lights, millions of them like stars when the sky was black and clear—and the dining room, where she got to order whatever she wanted for breakfast. Today it had been chocolate chip pancakes.
Mommy had said Aunt Hadley would arrive that night. In case she got there before they returned from their walk, Mommy would leave a note for her and tell Isabel, CeCe’s favorite front desk lady, to let Aunt Hadley into the suite. Isabel was nice, and funny. She said there were twinkling lights on whales and swans, and the lights in the lobby were stars.
Now, in the snow, CeCe’s teeth chattered so hard she bit her tongue. Instead of going to the beach the special way, just for people staying in the hotel, her mother had taken her along the road, past the big houses to this narrow path that Mommy had said was a better place to meet her friend, where people from the hotel couldn’t see. She told CeCe to hide because it was a big secret, just between Mommy and the person she was going to meet, and nobody was supposed to know, at least not yet.
“But where do I hide?” CeCe had asked.
“Here in this little hollow,” Mommy had said, clearing out a space between two bayberry bushes. “You go in there now, and don’t make a peep. Pretend you’re a baby beluga diving under the ice for fish, okay?”
“Okay,” CeCe said and giggled, because she loved whales at the aquarium; it was her favorite place to go, except maybe now the hotel, because it was their home and they were happy there.
“I’ll tell you when to come out,” Mommy said, and when she kissed her, CeCe saw that she had snowflakes on her hat and in her eyebrows, and it made CeCe laugh.
The little snow cave was nice and cozy and even a little warm, or at least warmer than out on the path in the December wind. CeCe hugged her arms around her knees, knowing that belugas lived in the Arctic, a very cold place, so this was part of pretending.
She heard a voice. It was a very low voice, as deep as Papa’s, and that would be a wonderful surprise. She nearly burst out of the cave and into his arms, but she had promised Mommy that she would stay inside and be quiet, no matter what. So she did. The voice kept talking.
Although she wasn’t supposed to go out, she hadn’t been told not to look, so she peeked. There was someone standing beside Mommy. Was it a man? She couldn’t tell because of the thick jacket and wool hat, but the person was taller than Mommy, just like Papa. She didn’t think it was him, though, because if it were, he would find her and pick her up in his arms. The wind was howling so loudly she couldn’t hear what Mommy and the person were saying.
The person shoved Mommy. That’s when CeCe was ready to break her promise and rush out, because no one should push her mother. Then there was a loud bang that frightened and startled CeCe so much that she squeezed her eyes tight and covered her ears.
The wind rose, and the person was gone. When CeCe’s mother didn’t call her, CeCe went out of the snow cave onto the path and saw red ribbons streaming from a black hole in her mommy’s head. CeCe knelt down, tried to push the ribbons back into the hole, but they wouldn’t go; they made her mittens wet.
“Open your eyes,” CeCe commanded. “Now, Mommy!”
Her mother’s fist was closed tight. CeCe decided to hold that hand, to keep Mommy warm, but when she did, Mommy’s fingers were as limp as yarn. That sent a quick, scary shiver all through CeCe’s whole body and gave her a horrible feeling. CeCe felt something hard inside her mother’s glove. She wriggled her hand inside and pulled out a key.
A funny-looking key. It didn’t look like the kind that went in doors to unlock houses. CeCe knew she should put it back in her mother’s glove, but her mother couldn’t hold it right now, so instead she put it in her own pocket.
The snow fell harder. The red ribbons turned pink. Then they weren’t ribbons at all, just pale streaks, and then they disappeared. Mommy was a snowdrift, and so were all the bushes, and now so was CeCe. She closed her eyes, put her head down on the snowbank where Mommy’s shoulder should have been.
But Mommy had told her to hide in the snow cave, and she didn’t want to disobey, so she crawled back inside. She reached into her pocket to hold the key and Star, but they weren’t enough to calm her. A huge shudder shook her entire body. She needed to be with Mommy, even if she was disobeying, so she flung herself out of the hollow. She pressed her cheek to her Mommy’s cold face, and she couldn’t hold it in anymore. She just couldn’t, and she began to cry, louder than anyone has ever cried before.
