TELL ME HE'S DEAD

"Mrs. Hale? I'm calling about your husband." A pause. "I'm so sorry. He's dead."

Nora looks up from the dinner table.

Her husband looks back at her - fork halfway to his mouth, breathing, smiling. Very much alive.

So who is the dead man in the morgue, lying on a steel tray with Daniel's name on the toe tag?

A mix-up. A stolen wallet. That's what Daniel says, and after eleven quiet years of marriage, Nora wants to believe him. She really does.

But the body has more than his name. It has his birthday. His fingerprints. His exact social security number.

And the harder Nora looks, the more the cracks open: pill bottles that should be empty are full. Her best friend won't say Daniel's name out loud. A detective keeps circling one impossible question who is the man sleeping in your bed?

Someone in this marriage is lying.
Someone is already dead.
And the trail leads straight back to the night Nora's brother died, thirteen years ago - and the one memory her own mind has spent a lifetime burying.

She's about to remember.
And once she does, there's no un-knowing it.

A twisty, read-it-in-one-sitting psychological thriller about marriage, memory, and the lies we tell ourselves to survive. If you think you've guessed the ending - you haven't.