In a Dark, Dark Wood

by Ruth Ware

There were footsteps leading from a side entrance to the garage, and back. How odd. All the cars were parked out in front of the house, in the open. What reason could anyone have for going into the garage?

Nina was dangerous to be around; her sharp tongue made no distinction between friend and foe, and you were as likely to be the butt of her wit as laughing at it. But I liked her. And in many ways, I felt safer with her than with Clare.