WHERE I
LEFT HERAuthor:
Amber GarzaISBN: 9780778332060Publication
Date: August 24, 2021Publisher:
MIRA Books
From the author
of WHEN I WAS YOU comes a spine-tingling new thriller about a
mother's worst nightmare come true, when she goes to pick up her daughter from
a sleepover, and she's nowhere to be found.
Whitney had some misgivings when she dropped her increasingly moody teenage daughter off for a sleepover last night. She's never met the friend's parents, and usually she'd go in, but Amelia clearly wasn't going to let something so humiliating happen, so instead she waved to her daughter before pulling away from the cute little house with the rosebushes in front.
But when she goes back to get her, an elderly couple answers the door--Amelia and her friend are nowhere to be found, and this couple swears she's at the wrong house. As Whitney searches for Amelia, she uncovers a trail of secrets and lies her daughter has told her--from Finsta accounts to rumors of a secret relationship. Does she really even know this girl she's raised, and can she find her before it's too late?
Buy
Links:
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Amazon | Books-A-Million | Powell’s
I wish that publishers would hold off on calling books “thrilling” or “spine-tingling”. It gives the reader or listener an early expectation that the book has to live up too right off the bat. For me, this book isn’t exactly a thriller, it’s more of a drama IMO. I think being labeled a drama would have led me to expect the drama of the story and be ok that there were no thriller aspects to the story. I still enjoyed the story. I found the idea off dropping your daughter off at a new friends house only for there to be zero trace of her the next day terrifying.
I found myself relating to Whitney in some ways. I’m also a single mother that is somewhat overprotective. When I drop her off at a new friend’s house, I expect to meet the parents and would walk her to the door. The book thinks this is overprotective, I consider it responsible parenting. The narration is only from Whitney’s perspective. However, the timeline does bounce around between Whitney’s past and how many hours after drop off.
I found myself relating to
Whitney and also not exactly sure of her. I enjoyed Amber Garza’s writing
style. It’s a super intriguing storyline that will keep you wondering. It doesn’t
have a lot of twists or “spine-tingling” moments. I feel like the ending was
slightly rushed, like she reached her desired word count and stopped. I wish
there had been a few more chapters that would have wrapped this up a tab more.
Either way, I’m glad I read this and would give this a solid 3.5 stars.
I received an ARC of this book with the hope that I would leave an Unbiased Opinion. I was not required to leave a review, positive or otherwise, and my opinions are just that... my opinions.
Excerpt
1
FRIDAY, 5:00
P.M.
DROP-OFF
WHITNEY WANTED TO get rid of her daughter.
How awful is that?
Not forever, of course, but for the
night. She was weary of the sixteen-year-old attitude. The rolling of eyes,
stomping of feet, the judging glances and biting remarks.
That’s why she wasn’t paying as much
attention as she should’ve been when dropping Amelia off at Lauren’s. Her mind
was back in their apartment, her butt planted on the couch, bare feet propped
on the table, a pint of ice cream in her lap.
“The destination is on your right.”
She turned the steering wheel, following the instructions given by the
disembodied voice of the GPS in her daughter’s phone. Amelia held it up, giving
the illusion that her palm was talking. The house in front of them was
nondescript. A tract home, painted tan with beige trim, a cream door, two large
windows overlooking the narrow front walkway. The only thing that set it apart
from the others was the row of rosebushes lining the left perimeter of the
yard, scarlet red petals and thorny, jagged stems.
Whitney pulled her car over, tires
hugging the curb.
Amelia hopped out the minute her
mother’s foot pressed down on the brakes, as if she was desperate to be free of
her.
“You sure this is her house?”
Whitney asked.
Amelia shrugged, glancing down at
her phone and then back up. “This is the address she gave me.” Her tone was
impatient, irritated. That’s how she’d been lately. Distant and moody. Everything
her mom said and did annoyed her.
Originally, she’d planned to walk
Amelia up to the front door and meet Lauren’s mom. But on the way over here,
Amelia had begged her not to do that, pointing out that she was no longer a
little girl.
As much as Whitney hated to admit
it, she could see her point. Amelia was sixteen. As soon as she finished
her driver’s training and passed her test, she’d be driving on her own and
then Whitney wouldn’t even have the option of dropping her off at her friend’s.
It was time she learned to let go, loosen the death grip a little.
Instead of following her daughter,
Whitney stayed inside the car, watching through the smudged glass of the
passenger-side window. Amelia’s dark hair swished down her spine as she sped to
the front door. When she reached it, she readjusted the blue overnight bag that
was secured on her shoulder while lifting her other hand to knock.
Lauren appeared in the doorway,
flashing a smile at Amelia. She wore a pink headband that made her look much
younger than seventeen. Amelia peered over her shoulder before stepping forward,
her lips curling at the corners as she threw her mom another wave. It was the
largest grin Whitney had gotten in days, and she welcomed it, grabbed hold of
it and then gave it back.
After watching them both disappear
inside, Whitney pulled away from the curb. Without even looking in the rearview
mirror, she sped toward her night of freedom, dreaming of a couch to herself
and a movie Amelia couldn’t make fun of.
SATURDAY,
10:00 A.M.
SEVENTEEN
HOURS AFTER DROP-OFF
Whitney had been up for hours, and
still hadn’t heard from Amelia. Last night was restful. Quiet. Peaceful. All
the things Whitney had wanted it to be. Much needed. But this morning she was
suffering from a serious case of mom guilt. She missed her daughter. Was
anxious for her to come home, attitude and all. Unlocking her phone, she shot
her a quick text: Ready for me to pick you up?
Even after several minutes, no
response came. Not that she was shocked. When Amelia had friends over, they
stayed up all night giggling and talking. No matter how many times Whitney
would remind them to keep it down, within minutes their muffled voices would
return, drifting through the adjoining bedroom wall. Most likely, she’d done
the same at Lauren’s and they were both still asleep.
The house smelled like Saturday
morning—coffee, creamer, maple syrup.
French toast had been a weekend
tradition for years. When Amelia was little, she’d wake up early and bound into
her mom’s bedroom, eager for breakfast. But lately it seemed Whitney ate alone
more often than not. Even when Amelia was home, there was no guarantee she’d
join her. Amelia lived in her room, earbuds perpetually plugged in her ears,
as if she’d grown another extremity. Still, Whitney couldn’t bring herself to
stop the tradition altogether. The French toast would get eaten, even if it
took a couple of days. Whitney didn’t mind leftovers, anyway. Not that she had
many this morning. She’d gone for an extra-long jog and had been ravenous.
After cleaning up the kitchen,
Whitney went back into her phone and clicked on the Snapchat app. Amelia may
have been quiet around the house lately, but she had no problem sharing her
life with the rest of the world. Whitney expected to be greeted by smiling
selfies of her and Lauren, maybe some photos of the food they were eating,
proof to all the other teenagers on social media that they were having a blast
on their Friday night together. But nothing had been posted on her story in the
last twenty-four hours.
With slick fingertips, Whitney
closed out of Snapchat and checked Instagram. Nothing there either. A chill
brushed over her neck, causing the hairs to stand on end. She shook the feeling
away with an abrupt jerk of her head. Whitney had always been like this.
Anxious. A worrier, especially when it came to Amelia. Perpetually thinking the
worst. Amelia hated it. So had her ex-husband. It was one of the many things
they fought about. And it was probably one of many reasons why Dan had ended up
marrying that sunny, smiling, high-pitched preschool teacher. If Whitney had to
take a guess, she’d say there were no skeletons in Miss Karen’s closet. No past
indiscretions she was afraid of coming to light. No monsters from her past
lurking around the corner.
No secret buried inside, so deep the
roots had become invisible.
When Dan married Karen, Whitney
remembered thinking how he had succeeded in finding someone completely opposite
from her, just like he said he would. It didn’t take him long either. He’d met
Karen less than a year after they’d split up. He and Karen were friends for a
while, and then dated for several years before marrying.
That was how he always defended it.
We were friends first.
We took it slow.
But that was never the point. He
should have made Amelia his priority. Whitney hadn’t dated at all while Amelia
was growing up—she’d only started within the last couple of years. Once Amelia
hit high school and started having a life of her own, Whitney figured it was
time she did too.
Leaning against the counter, she
stared out the kitchen window. There wasn’t a view. The window overlooked the
apartment across the way. A man stood in his kitchen, his back to Whitney as he
drank coffee. His build vaguely reminded Whitney of Jay, and it made her smile.
Going into her last text thread with
him, she typed, I miss you.
Then she bit her lip. Too
forward? Too soon?
They’d been dating for a couple of
months, and he’d only been on an overnight business trip. He was returning
later today. She didn’t want to come on too strong.
Backspace. Delete. She tried again:
Hope your trip was good.
Too formal?
Whitney paused, thinking.
Why am I making this so hard?
She really liked Jay. That was the
problem. He was the first guy in a long time she felt hopeful about. Usually by
month two of dating someone, the red flags popped up and her interest waned.
That hadn’t happened yet with Jay.
Turns out, she didn’t need to stress
over what to text. Jay beat her to it.
Boarding the plane now. Will call
you when I’m back, he texted.
Sounds good, she responded.
It was 10:30. There were a million
things on the agenda today and waiting around for Amelia wasn’t one of them.
After hitting the grocery store and
Target, Whitney swung by Lauren’s, using the memory of how they’d gotten there
yesterday as her guide. It was a little tricky, since she hadn’t paid enough
attention to Amelia’s directions yesterday, but after a few minutes of circling
the neighborhood, she came upon a familiar street and turned on it. A couple of
houses in, she recognized the rosebushes.
It had been well over an hour since
she’d sent the last text to Amelia. Although there hadn’t been any response
yet, Whitney was sure she was up by now. Probably hoping to buy more time with
her friend.
Whitney had gotten Amelia a bag of
gummy worms. She pulled it out of one of the grocery bags. It crinkled as she
set it on the passenger seat. Amelia probably wouldn’t even eat them.
Certainly, they didn’t fit within the parameters of her latest diet, but,
still, Whitney couldn’t resist. Whitney’s habit of picking up treats at the store
had started back when Amelia was a toddler, when she’d surprised her with a bag
of cookies one afternoon when picking her up from preschool. Whitney would
never forget how wide Amelia’s eyes got, how broad her smile became as she
clutched the little bag. A lot of things may have changed between them over the
past few years, but Whitney didn’t want that to be one of them.
After getting out of the car, she
slipped the key ring around her finger and walked up the front walkway,
flip-flops slapping on the pavement. It was a warm, spring day. Kids played
outside a few houses down. A lawnmower kicked on. A couple rode their bikes
past, bright neon helmets bouncing up and down like beach balls bobbing in the
waves. Amelia used to love to ride bikes. For a while, it had been a weekend
tradition. Whitney couldn’t remember the last time they’d hit the trails
together, but she made a note to ask her about it. Most likely her answer would
be a big resounding no, coupled with the same cringey, horrified look she had whenever
Whitney suggested they hang out. Still, it was worth a shot. Sometimes Amelia
surprised her with a yes, reminding Whitney of the girl she used to be before
the teenage monster took over.
When Whitney reached the door, she
lifted her hand to knock the same way she’d watched Amelia do the day before. A
minute passed and no one answered. That funny feeling returned, but she shoved
it down, feeling silly.
She knocked again, this time so hard
it stung her knuckles. The girls were probably listening to music or something.
Or maybe they were in the backyard. It was a nice day. Ears perked, she
listened for the sound of her daughter’s voice or of music playing inside.
Hearing neither of those, she frowned.
Finally, Whitney caught the hint of
footsteps inside.
The door creaked open, an older
woman peering out, eyebrows raised. She looked to be in her late sixties,
maybe early seventies.
Whitney was taken aback. She’d never
met Lauren’s mom, but there was no way this was her. Maybe Lauren’s grandparents
lived with them. Recently, Whitney had watched a news report about how the cost
of living had gone up, causing multigenerational homes to become a growing
trend. And Lauren had mentioned that her parents were divorced. Whitney knew
firsthand how financially taxing it was to raise a child alone.
“Hi, I’m Whitney. Amelia’s mom.”
Smiling, Whitney jutted out her hand.
But the elderly woman just stared at
it, not saying a word. She glanced over her shoulder where a man around her
same age stood. He furrowed his brows and stepped forward. Whitney’s body
tensed.
Maybe she’s got dementia or
Alzheimer’s or something. Whitney caught the old man’s eyes. “Hi, I’m Amelia’s
mom. She spent the night here.”
“Nope. Not here.” Shaking his head,
he came closer. “You must have the wrong house. They all kinda look the same in
this neighborhood.”
Whitney glanced around. Hadn’t she
thought the same thing yesterday? She must’ve turned down the wrong street or
something.
Face warming, she backed away from
the door. “I’m so sorry to have bothered you.”
“No bother at all,” the man said,
and the woman offered a kind smile.
Whitney turned on her heels and made
her way back to the car. She turned on the ignition and pulled away from the
curb. The couple had already disappeared inside. Whitney drove to the main
street and turned right. When she came up on another street, she turned onto
it. The man was right. There were lots of houses that looked like theirs. She
pulled up in front of one, scanning the yard.
Nope. No roses.
That’s what had set the other house
apart. The one she dropped Amelia off at.
She moved farther down the street,
carefully looking to the right and to the left, searching for a one-story
house, roses lining the perimeter. Coming up empty, she swung the car around.
Maybe her mistake had been turning right at the main street.
Backtracking, this time Whitney
turned left.
This street was almost identical to
the other two she’d just been down. Same tract homes. Manicured lawns.
Shuttered windows. A sea of tan paint and beige trim. The odd red door or
colorful lawn art. But, again, no roses. At least, not in the correct spot.
Turning onto another street, she
finally found it. The simple house. The roses lining the side.
After parking in front, she leaped
out and hurried to the front door. It was answered after only a couple of
knocks.
She gasped, taking in the elderly
man standing in the doorway. The same one she’d just spoken to a few moments
ago.
Oh, my God.
She’d ended up right back where
she’d started. As she backed away from the door, apologizing profusely, she
took in the shuttered windows, the manicured lawn, the roses lining the perimeter
of the yard. Peering back at her car, she envisioned Amelia in the front seat
holding her phone, the voice of the GPS speaking in her palm.
There was almost no doubt in
Whitney’s mind—this was where she’d left her.
Excerpted from Where I Left Her by Amber
Garza, Copyright © 2021 by Amber Garza. Published by arrangement
with Harlequin Books S.A.
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