It’s my great pleasure to bring you the latest novel by Lisa Lutz, The Passenger, which is published today 15th March 2016 by Titan Books. The Passenger is available for purchase on Amazon UK, Amazon US, and from Titan Books, Waterstones and all good book shops.
I have an extract from the novel for you below but first, find out about The Passenger.
From New York Times bestselling author of The Spellman Files Lisa Lutz, comes a captivating thriller about murder, secrets and desperation that will appeal to readers of Gone Girl and These Things Hidden.
Tanya DuBois doesn’t exist. At least not after an accident leaves her husband dead and she finds herself in the unfortunate position of Suspect No 1 with only one choice: Run.
As “Tanya” watches her life recede in the rearview mirror, we realize she was never real to begin with. Neither is Sonia Lobovich, Debra Maze, or any of her other aliases. Avoiding attention at every turn, Tanya is eventually forced to face up to her past and the person she may yet become…
Effortlessly mixing sharp wit and intrigue, Lutz crafts a pacey thriller that trades in the traditional ‘whodunnit’ for a beguiling mystery about the nature of identity: after all you can change your name but you can’t change what you’ve done…
Praise for The Passenger
“An utterly compelling thriller.” Chris Pavone, best-selling author of The Expats
“Clever plot twists & sharp characters that are sure to keep you guessing long into the night.” Kim McCreight, New York Times Bestselling author of Reconstructing Amelia
The Passenger – An Excerpt
When I found my husband at the bottom of the stairs, I tried to resuscitate him before I ever considered disposing of the body. I pumped his barrel chest and blew into his purple lips. It was the first time in years that our lips had touched and I didn’t recoil.
I gave up after ten minutes. Frank Dubois was gone. Lying there all peaceful and quiet, he almost looked in slumber, but Frank was noisier asleep than he was awake. Honestly, if I had known what kind of snorer he was going to turn into, I never would have married him. If I could do it all over again, I never would have married him even if he slept like an angel. If I could do it all over again, there are so many things I would do differently. But looking at Frank then, so still and not talking, I didn’t mind him so much. It seemed like a good time to say good-bye. I poured a shot of Frank’s special bourbon, sat down on Frank’s faux-suede La-Z-Boy, and had a drink to honor the dead.
In case you were wondering, I didn’t do it. I didn’t have anything to do with Frank’s death. I don’t have an alibi, so you’ll have to take my word for it. I was taking a shower when Frank died. As far as I could tell, he fell down the staircase all on his own. He had been suffering from vertigo lately. Convenient, I know. And I doubt he mentioned it to anyone. If I had waited for the police and told them the truth, maybe life could have continued as normal. Minus Frank.
I poured another drink and contemplated my options. My first thought was to dispose of the body. Then I’d tell the authorities that Frank left me for another woman. Or was running from a loan shark. It was well-known that he had a love for cards but no talent for it.
I decided to test my strength to see if it was even possible. I tugged on Frank’s bloated and callused feet, feet that I had come to loathe—why do you have to tell a grown man to clip his toenails? I dragged the body about a foot from his landing site before I gave up. Frank had put on weight in the past year, but even if he were svelte I couldn’t see depositing him anyplace where he’d never be found. And now there was a suspicious trail of blood in the shape of a question mark just above his head. I might be able to explain it away if I called the police and stayed put. But then they’d start looking at me real carefully and I didn’t like people looking at me all that much.
I tried to imagine my trial. Me, scrubbed clean, hair pulled back in a schoolmarm bun, wearing an innocent flowered sundress with a Peter Pan collar, trying to look not guilty, with my hard-edged poker face dry as the desert. I couldn’t imagine how I’d summon tears or sell that shattered look of loss. I can’t show much emotion anymore. That was something Frank always liked about me. There was a time I used to cry, but that was another lifetime ago. My heart was broken just once. But completely.
As I sat in Frank’s chair, nursing my drink, I pretended to be weighing my options. But there was only one.
Frank kept his gambling stash in his toolbox. A little over twelve hundred dollars. I packed for a short trip and loaded the suitcase into the back of Frank’s Chevy pickup.
I was only leaving two people behind, if you don’t count Frank: Carol from the bar and Dr. Mike.
About Lisa Lutz
Lisa Lutz is the author of the bestselling series, The Spellman Files, as well as the mystery Heads, You Lose (with David Hayward) and the upcoming literary novel, How Not to Start a Fire. She has received numerous accolades for her work, including an Alex Award, and nominations for the Edgar, Barry, Anthony awards, among many others.