One by One

by Ruth Ware

Not that I can talk. I’m putting on my own act. We all are on some level, I suppose. That’s one of the joys of coming here, to a place like this, where everyone is passing through. You get to have a fresh start.

Who is this woman? Why are they so keen to keep her happy? It’s almost like… I frown, wondering. It’s almost like they’re afraid of her. But that’s absurd.

That ten grand will be worth around twelve million if the buyout goes ahead.”

I am good at tidying up loose ends and keeping everything straight.

In Topher’s world, people are hard, polished shells, their shiny exteriors hiding the inadequacies and anxieties inside. But Topher made a mistake. He didn’t understand that some people are the other way around. But Eva… I think Eva did understand that. And perhaps it’s what killed her in the end.

Clambering through waist-deep snow in ski boots is no joke. I know that.

In the dark, owls are not the hunted, but the hunter. And right now, it is dark.

It was just a mistake—just a terrible mistake. They are phrases that have always seemed meaningless. Now, suddenly, it is vital that Inigo believes them.

And then I type. Just eight words. And I really, really hope they are true. Dear Topher, it’s going to be all right.