Friday First Pages:THE THINGS THAT KEEP US HERE

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First Pages Fridays offers a taste of an author's book—from ones long on the shelves to those newly launched, because while you can't judge a book by the cover, you can tell plenty from the first pages.

I've read and loved this book–oh, what a page turner.:

"The Things That Keep Us Here is without a doubt one of the most powerful and realistically frightening books I have ever read… Readers will find themselves inevitably swept into the lives of this family; sharing their fears, heartbreak and success while watching helplessly as the systems meant to better everyone's lives breakdown. With staggering intensity, Buckley's writing will leave you speechless. "

—Suspense Magazine

The Things That Keep Us Here

by Carla Buckley

Prologue

It was quiet coming home from the funeral. Too quiet. Ann wished Peter would say something, but there was just the soft patter of rain and the wipers squeaking back and forth across the windshield. Even the radio was mute, reception having sizzled into static miles before.

As they crossed into Ohio, Ann turned around to see why Maddie hadn't called it, and saw her seven-year-old had fallen asleep, her head tipped back and her lips parted, her book slipped halfway from her grasp. The first hour of their trip had been punctuated by Maddie asking every five minutes, Mom, what does this spell? Ann leaned back and teased the opened book from her daughter's fingers, closed it and put it on the seat beside Maddie. Kate hunched in the opposite corner, a tangle of brown hair falling over her face and obscuring her features, the twin wires of her iPod coiling past her shoulders and into her lap.

Ann turned back around. "The girls are asleep."

Peter nodded.

"Even Kate. I don't know how she can possibly sleep with her music going."

He made no reply.

"Do you know I caught her trying to sneak her iPod into the church? I don't think giving her that was such a great idea." When Peter remained silent, she went on. "It's just one more way for her to tune everyone out."

He shrugged. "She's twelve. That's what twelve-year-olds do."

"I think it's more than that, Peter."

He said nothing, simply glanced into the rearview mirror and flicked on the turn signal, glided the minivan around the slower-moving vehicle in front of them.

It was an old argument and he wasn't engaging. Still, there was something else lurking beneath his silence. She read it in his narrow focus on the highway and along the tightness of his jaw. "You all right?" Of course he wasn't.

"Just tired. It was a long weekend."

A long, horrible weekend. All those relatives crammed together in that small clapboard house, no air-conditioning, Peter's mother wandering around, plaintively asking everyone where Jerry was.

"I'm glad your brother made it."

"Yep."

Not yes, or yeah. Yep. He never talked like that. He was throwing up warning signs, telling her to back off. But fourteen years of marriage made her plough straight through anyway. "Everything okay between you two?"

"Sure."

So he wasn't going to tell her. "Bonni said she saw you and Mike arguing."

He glanced at her. So handsome her breath snagged for a moment. The strong, tanned planes of his face and the beautiful blue-green of his eyes that Kate had inherited; now he looked drawn and older than his forty years. He returned his attention to the road. She wanted to cup her hand to his cheek, but he was sending out those keep-away signals.

She crossed her arms. "Mike doesn't think it was an accident."

"Mike doesn't know what he's talking about."

"He has a point, though. It is strange your father wasn't wearing blaze orange."

"What are you suggesting, Ann? Suicide by hunter? Give me a break."

She should have, but she couldn't let it go. The questions piled up inside her, three days' worth of strangers whispering, three days of Peter's mother tugging at Ann's sleeve. "Things have gotten so bad with your mom, Peter. I had no idea. This morning, she told Maddie that her parents must be looking for her and that she'd better run along home. You should have seen the hurt look on Maddie's face." Ann shook her head. "It just breaks my heart. We can't leave her like this."

"Bonni will check in on her."

"Checking in's not enough. She needs round-the-clock care." The rain had stopped. A watery sunshine glinted through the clouds. Peter switched off the wipers. "I don't want to talk about it. Especially not with the girls in the car."

"You mean the girls who are sound asleep?"

"Ann."

Maybe she was pushing too hard. She leaned her forehead against the window and watched a hawk spin circles high above.

"You sure you need to go into the field tomorrow? Maybe one of your students can go in your place."

"I've got no choice. Hunters are nervous enough right now without me sending in some twenty-year-old."

"Because of the bird flu?"

"Exactly."

"Do you think you'll find anything?"

He shifted position. "Probably. But it's not an isolated case that's a problem."

"It's a cluster of cases."

"Right."

The hawk grew smaller and smaller, a smudged dot that eventually disappeared. No doubt to perch on a branch somewhere and watch for prey. "I forgot to tell you, things were so rushed Friday, but that interview came through."

 

Carla Buckley is the debut author of The Things That Keep Us Here. She has worked in a variety of jobs, including a stint as an assistant press secretary for a U.S. senator, an analyst with the Smithsonian Institution, and a technical writer for the Tomahawk Missile System. Named a Thurber House "New Voice in Fiction," Carla chairs the International Thriller Writers Debut Program, and lives in Ohio with her husband, children, and two dogs. Bantam Dell will publish Carla's next book, Invisible, in 2012.