А Финн: The Woman in the Window

It’s empty now. Has been for weeks. Little visited me at home a second time that morning, after the police arrived, after the EMTs had removed the body. His body. Alistair Russell was arrested, the detective said, charged with accessory to murder; he’d confessed immediately, as soon as he heard about his son. It happened just as Ethan described it, he admitted. Apparently Alistair broke down; Jane was the tough one. I wonder what she knew. I wonder if she knew.

“I owe you an apology,” Little muttered, shaking his head. “And Val—man, she really owes you one.”

I didn’t disagree.

He dropped by the next day, too. By that point reporters were knocking on my door, leaning on my buzzer. I ignored them. If nothing else, over the past year I’ve gotten good at ignoring the outside world.

“How you doing, Anna Fox?” asked Little. “And this must be the famous psychiatrist.”

Dr. Fielding had followed me from the library. Now he stood at my side, gawking at the detective, at the sheer scale of the man. “Glad she’s got you, sir,” said Little, pumping his hand.

“I am, too,” Dr. Fielding replied.

And so am I. The past six weeks have stabilized me, clarified me. The skylight’s repaired, for one thing. A professional cleaner swung by, spit-polished the house. And I’m dosing properly, drinking less. Drinking not at all, in fact, thanks in part to a tattooed miracle worker named Pam. “I’ve dealt with all kinds of people, in all kinds of situations,” she told me on her first visit.

“This might be a new one,” I said.

I tried to apologize to David—called him at least a dozen times, but he never answered. I wonder where he is. I wonder if he’s safe. I found his earbuds coiled beneath the bed in the basement. I took them upstairs, tucked them into a drawer. In case he calls back.

And a few weeks ago I rejoined the Agora. They’re my tribe; they’re a sort of family. I will promote healing and well-being.

I’ve been resisting Ed and Livvy. Not all the time, not fully; some nights, when I hear them, I murmur back. But the conversations are over.

100

“Come on.”

Bina’s hand is dry. My own is not.

“Come on, come on.”

She’s yanked the garden door open. A shivering wind blows in.

“You did this on a roof in the rain.”

But that was different. I was fighting for my life.

“This is your garden. In the sunshine.”

True.

“And you’ve got your snow boots on.”

Also true. I found them in the utility closet. I hadn’t worn them since that night in Vermont.

“So what are you waiting for?”

Nothing—not anymore. I’ve waited for my family to return; they won’t. I’ve waited for my depression to lift; it wouldn’t, not without my help.

I’ve waited to rejoin the world. Now is the time.

Now, when the sun is blasting my house. Now, when I’m clearheaded, clear-eyed. Now, as Bina leads me to the door, to the top of the stairs.

She’s right: I did this on a roof in the rain. I was fighting for my life. So I must not want to die.

And if I don’t want to die, I’ve got to start living.

What are you waiting for?

One, two, three, four.

She releases my hand and walks into the garden, tracking footprints in the snow. She turns, beckons me.

“Come on .”

I close my eyes.

And I open them.

And I step into the light.

Acknowledgments

Jennifer Joel, my friend, agent, and invaluable guide;

Felicity Blunt, for working wonders;

Jake Smith-Bosanquet and Alice Dill, who gave me the world;

the teams at ICM and Curtis Brown.

Jennifer Brehl and Julia Wisdom, my clear-eyed, bighearted champions;

the teams at Morrow and Harper;

my international publishers, with gratitude.

Josie Freedman, Greg Mooradian, Elizabeth Gabler, and Drew Reed.

Hope Brooks, the astute first reader and tireless cheerleader;

Robert Douglas-Fairhurst, longtime inspiration;

Liate Stehlik, who said I could;

my family and friends, who said I should.

About the Author

A. J. FINNhas written for numerous publications, including the Los Angeles Times , the Washington Post , and The Times Literary Supplement (UK). Finn’s debut novel, The Woman in the Window, has been sold in thirty-five territories worldwide and is in development as a major motion picture from Fox. A native of New York, Finn lived in England for ten years before returning to New York City.

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Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

the woman in the window. Copyright © 2018 by A. J. Finn, Inc. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

first edition

Cover design by Elsie Lyons

Cover images © Shutterstock

Digital Edition January 2018 ISBN 978-0-06-267844-7

Print ISBN 978-0-06-267841-6 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-0-06-279955-5 (international edition)

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