They’ll bring it to you special, if you ask.” “The guide tempted it with fish guts he had in a plastic milk jug. Jule didn’t often talk to other hotel guests, but she saw no harm in answering. “So what do you recommend? At the Playa Grande?” “It’s never long enough,” said Jule, “at a place like this.” “I’m here alone,” the woman confided after a moment. Jule stepped off the treadmill to stretch her quads. “New York.” The woman pointed to herself. That’s all.” Jule’s own speech was clipped, what the British call BBC English. She was probably a New Yorker raised in a Spanish-speaking neighborhood. “Like, for a marathon or something?” The accent was Mexican American. She liked privacy, and she was pretty much done, anyway. Jule slowed to a walk, figuring to leave in a minute. Her shoes were down at the heels and spattered with old mud. She had big arms and a solid torso, light brown skin, and a dusting of powdery blush on her cheeks. Her black hair was in a tight ponytail, slicked with hair spray. She had been doing intervals for nearly an hour when a woman stepped onto the treadmill next to her. She wore custom sea-green shoes with navy laces. This morning, she was running in the Playa Grande gym.
Jule had been alone at the hotel for nearly four weeks now. The staff members were nurselike in their white cotton garments. The Playa Grande Resort in Baja had white curtains, white tile, white carpets, and explosions of lush white flowers. Jule’s skin smelled like chlorine all day. You could get hot clay skin treatments, if you didn’t mind strangers touching you.
In the lobby, an elderly gentleman played Gershwin on a grand piano at four each afternoon. There was an endless supply of fat towels and liquid gardenia soap. The minibar in Jule’s room stocked potato chips and four different chocolate bars. “Tangled secrets, diabolical lies and, ultimately, a mind-blowing outcome are crafted with the plotted precision we expect (and love!) from E. and definitely won’t see the ending coming.” Lockhart's previous novel, the best-selling "We Were Liars," will likely finish the last page and flip right back to the beginning to search for clues they missed.” "An addictive and shocking feminist thriller." MCMANUS, bestselling author of One of Us is Lying "A brilliant, twisty thriller-I loved it!"
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