by A B Whelan
From the author of the bestselling 14 Days to Die and As Sick as Our Secrets comes a fast-paced thriller with strong characters for fans of The Silent Patient and Girls Like Us.
Praise For
14 Days to Die
"This may be called 14 DAYS TO DIE but it only took me one and a half days to read it. I was hooked from beginning to end."
—Sue and her Books
"Whoa...I was not prepared for this. This is a gripping thriller full of twists and turns.”
—Michelle Only Wants to Read
"Talk about a fantastic plot and premise for a thriller! Not only was this one fast-paced, but it also had exceptional character development… Overall a fantastic read that I highly recommend!"
—Suspense is thrilling Me
"I’m pretty hard to please when it comes to psych thrillers (probably because I read so many of them), so I was pleasantly surprised by how much I liked this one."
—Kelly and the Book Boar
"You will NEVER see the ending coming and if you are anything like me...that ending will totally piss you off. AB Whelan...that ending knocked me on my behind and left me speechless and ready to scream! BTW...I LOVED THIS ONE BIG TIME!!"
—Jamie Submits to Books
Praise For
As Sick as Our Secrets
“This is going to be one of those books that everyone talks about!!”
—Steven De Bruin, NetGalley
Whelan delivered a sexy mind-trip that had me both dazed and dazzled. There's a dangerous feel throughout this book, but it's one that creeps up on you slowly, much like the frog in a pot of boiling water. If you're wondering if the story inside is just as captivating as the gorgeous cover- it is!
—Suspense is Thrilling Me
As Sick as our Secrets by A.B Whelan is going to be one of this year's best psychological thrillers!... It is dark and real, with windows of light to make the book very close to perfect.
—Cloud of Thoughts
“An enticing, thrilling mystery with fantastic heroines.”
—Kate, CreateSpace
"As Sick as Our Secrets was a fast-paced psychological thriller that kept me gripped right up until a very satisfying ending."
—Dee's Rad Reads and Reviews
"This was a dangerously addictive thriller that I read with my mouth wide open at times as things started to take some unexpectedly nasty turns! It may not be everyone's cup of tea due to some scenes of sexual violence, but nothing was so graphic that it spoiled my enjoyment of the powerful narrative and immersive plotline, which I have to say reminded me of "Big Little Lies" at times. Well worth a look!"
—My Chestnut Reading Tree
Advanced Praise For
If I Had Two Lives
“Oh hello wild rollercoaster ride! ‘If I Had Two Lives’ was sooo twisty, packed full of secrets and shocking revelations. This was my kind of thriller!! That ending. Did not see that coming at all. Wow. I'm going to need to get my hands on A.B Whelan's other books...
—Dana, Netgalley
“This was an absolutely engrossing book. Well thought out, well paced, with several twists I didn't see coming… an awesome lead character who didn't let anything stand in the way of getting what needed doing done. I will definitely be reading more by this author!”
—Katherine, Netgalley
“In general, I don't enjoy books with law enforcement/detectives as a main character. I don't know why, it's just a thing. Regardless, If I Had Two Lives, the story of a young FBI agent, is a fantastic thriller!”
Vicky has a great life. She's a cybercrimes special agent and have a wonderful real estate star boyfriend. However....the walls around Vicky soon crumble as family secrets are uncovered…. Inspired by a true (and VERY disturbing) story, A.B. Whelan has written a page-turner of a book.”
—Stella, Netgalley
“There's really *a lot* to like. A potential winner… I’m a sucker for a good thriller, and I really liked this one. Great twist at the end. And Vicky is a super lead character. I’d love to see a sequel with her.”
—Editorial Review
“It was so enthralling and intriguing that I devoured the book in a matter of days, I didn't want to put it down, I needed to know more everytime.”
—Joselyn, Goodreads
“I haven’t felt sorry for a fictional character in a while. A.B. Whelan has written a terrific story of a young FBI agent whose world implodes….Grab a throw, curl up on the couch and enjoy. Time will fly and you will be thoroughly enthralled.”
—Debbie, Goodreads
“Wow this book pulls you in from the beginning and holds you, as you get to about 80% you think you know what’s going on, but you’re wrong. I was so excited and engrossed until I read the very last page.”
—Deloris, Goodreads
“Oh! My! GOSH! I totally did not see that ending coming at all. There were plenty of twists and turns as the story unfolds. What was a loving family becomes a family of lies. I thought the book was amazing!... A perfect book that kept me up and turning pages.
—Nicki, Booksirens
If I Had Two Lives is a twisted tale of family secrets and the darker side of human nature that will leave you wanting to research your family history.
Vicky Collins has a seemingly enviable life. She is a successful agent for the FBI and lives with her social-media star and real-estate entrepreneur boyfriend in an upscale neighborhood of San Diego.
But appearances can be deceiving.
When Vicky is recruited to an elite unit at the FBI to investigate the possibility of a serial killer that piggybacks his killings on the crimes of other murderers, her life begins to spiral out of control.
To complicate things further for Vicky, a routine background check at the FBI reveals a sibling DNA match—a brother she didn’t know existed. Determined to unravel the mystery of her past and to find her long-lost brother, Vicky retraces the boy’s footsteps through the foster-care system, uncovering the abuse and neglect he suffered growing up. The secrets she unveils are more heinous and terrifying than she ever imagined, and a new truth about her childhood threatens to consume her.
Then the Piggyback Serial Killer strikes again. Except this time, Agent Collins has multiple suspects—including members of her own family.
This book was inspired by a young woman in a vegetative state who was sexually assaulted and impregnated by an employee of her care facility, and it delves into dark subject matter—murder, sexual violence, and childhood abuse. If the story touches you as deeply as it did me, I’d love to hear your thoughts.
You can always reach me with your questions and thoughts via email: [email protected]
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Copyright © 2019 Andrea Bizderi Whelan
Amazon Kindle Edition
All rights reserved part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
For permissions contact:
[email protected]
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
If I Had Two Lives: a novel / A.B. Whelan
Psychological thriller
S
uspense, Thriller, & Mystery
Female friendship
Serial killer
Sexual abuse
Family history
IF I HAD TWO LIVES
Written by A.B. Whelan
AMAZON KINDLE EDITION
TABLE OF CONTENT
INTRODUCTION
COPYRIGHT PAGE
DEDICATION
QUOTE
THIRTY-FIVE YEARS AGO
EIGHT YEARS AGO
1 TODAY
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MEREDITH FALCONE’S LAST DANCE
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LINKS TO LEAVE A REVIEW
OTHER BOOKS BY THE AUTOR
CONNECT WITH THE AUTHOR
For those who suffer in silence
“What has violence ever accomplished? What has it ever created?”
—Robert Kennedy
THIRTY-FIVE YEARS AGO
A muffled scream pierced the peaceful silence of the early morning at the nursing facility. Aimee Stone, who at twenty-five years of age was the youngest caretaker at the San Diego Long Term Care Nursing Home, rushed down the hallway. A heinous discovery had been made in one of the patient’s rooms, and she immediately went to notify her boss. She allowed herself to walk with the briskness of an eager employee and managed to smile at Kathy, who was heading toward her grandmother’s room. Underneath the façade, Aimee’s racing heart pumped in her chest, and her churning stomach made her nauseous. But if she wanted to avoid alarming the residents and staff members, she had to get a grip on her emotions.
As Nurse Aimee passed room 132 B, the door slammed against the nickel spring stopper, and Mrs. Horowitz appeared, sullen-faced and frowning, banging her front-wheeled walker against the wall as she emerged from her room.
“Nurse!” she yelled at Aimee, beckoning her. “The negro woman didn’t bring my water. I sent her to fetch some over an hour ago. I’m parched, yet nobody cares. What kind of place is this?”
On any other day, Nurse Aimee would gently usher the ninety-three-year-old lady back to her room and calm her down before more racist and other vile things that always upset other patients poured from the mentally ill woman’s mouth. When the elderly woman’s family admitted her five years ago, they didn’t stop apologizing for their mother’s behavior, the way she’d insulted everybody. Her adult daughter and two sons went to great lengths to convince the care home’s staff of how nice and carrying their mother had been to them as children. They blamed her difficult life, bringing up twelve children while struggling with poverty, for her misfunctioning brain. Despite the children’s best efforts, they could no longer tolerate their mother’s outbursts and decided to seek professional help for her. There wasn’t much that the care-facility’s staff could do to help her with her mental illness in her old age but to keep her comfortable and isolated as much as possible in her deluxe room.
Today, Aimee had more pressing concerns than to assist Mrs. Horowitz. The secret she had freshly uncovered inside the walls of this very building dwarfed every other matter in the house. The reputation of the facility was on the line.
As the passionate young nurse passed the complaining tenant without acknowledging her, Mrs. Horowitz began to wail in earnest, an accomplishment for the four-foot-ten woman who struggled to simply keep her weight up and move around.
Doors opened left and right along the hallway. Patients poked their heads into the corridor to see the cause of the commotion. Nurse Aimee slipped her hands in her pockets, keeping her eyes on the commercial carpet, then ordered the front desk clerk to call for help as she rounded the corner and rushed across the entrance hall.
Her destination was near. The door to the office of the director (who was also the owner of the business) was only a few yards away. Upon entering the secretary’s office, the sight of the vacant chair behind the desk caused the young nurse’s pulse to fasten. She could feel her blood beating against the thin skin on her wrists.
Without knocking, she burst into the bright, spacious room of the director’s office and found her boss standing by the window, talking on the phone.
The tall man, whose shoulders were as narrow as his hips, spun around and shot an incredulous look through his square glasses at the young nurse. “What in the name …?” he said in his deep baritone voice that Aimee found friendly and pleasing to the ears.
“Please forgive my intrusion, but we have to talk … immediately!” the nurse announced, dapping at her damped forehead with her sleeve and pacing nervously.
The director was a friendly man, who was great with people. He knew every employee by name and kept up with their private lives—not in a creepy uncle kind of way but more as an invested mentor. He never forgot a birthday and always inquired about the children of the staff members whenever he saw a picture of a kid pinned to the wall in the nurses’ station or the break room. He was a fan of Miami Vice and dressed like Don Johnson. His getup today was a pastel-hued Armani jacket thrown over a tight shirt and matching high-rise pants. He followed football and had an in-house fantasy-football team going with the employees. As a daily routine, the group discussed their teams every morning over a cup of Italian-style coffee made with an imported coffeemaker. Every Fourth of July, the director invited the entire staff to a pool party at his house. The guys would barbeque burgers and the women would watch Dallas on the patio television set in their white skirts and bright summer dresses. Children splashed in the pool and gorged on sweet cigarette-shaped candies (that would be frowned upon today) and popsicles that were never short on supply. Our boss had a permanent smile on his clean-shaved round face, flashing his set of bright white teeth as he patted people’s backs appreciatively as they talked. Everybody loved the man and wanted to be him, and he basked in the attention with the flare of a Hollywood actor.
The blunt intrusion by Nurse Aimee didn’t invite the usual friendly welcome, though. Instead, the director apologized to the person on the other end of the line and slammed down the phone on the top of a pile of thick files on his hardwood desk. He drew in a deep breath, raised his glasses, and set a pointed glare at the young woman.
Nurse Aimee struggled to find the words to describe what she had seen in the patient’s room. She clasped both hands together and swallowed hard. There was no easy way to put it, so she decided that the fastest and least painful way was to rip the bandage off.
“Emma Alexis is pregnant,” she announced in a feeble, shaking voice.
The director’s shoulders dropped, and his round belly pushed against his pale pink shirt. “What are you talking about? Are you mad?”
Aimee sighed deeply and let out a long warm breath as if that would somehow help clarify her statement. “You know the patient in room 178-A, Emma—”
“I know Emma in 178-A. But what you’re saying is utter nonsense! How could she be pregnant? She has been in a vegetative state for years.”
“I know. It makes absolutely no sense, but I drew urine from Emma’s bag and tested it. The result came back positive. She is pregnant.”
It was the director’s turn to shake his head. “Sit down!” he ordered the nurse rather harshly—in a tone that was opposite his typical demeanor.
Nurse Aimee put her hand up to indicate otherwise. “I can’t. I’m too emotionally disturbed right now. I can’t even think.”
Mrs. Bourton, the director’s secretary, arrived and leaned against the doorframe, her permed bob hair like a helmet perched on her head.
“Is everything all right? I stepped out to use the bathroom for a second.”
The director waved her away—a gesture that made the ever-cheerful woman shrink a few inches and recoil.
“And shut the door!” the boss shouted after her. She returned a childish pout and pulled the door closed.
“Are you a hundred-percent sure?”
“Yes, I am. I came back from my extended leave today … remember my aunt needed assistance after she broke her hip.”
“Yes, yes. I know. I signed your paperwork.”
“I was washing down Emma this morning and noticed her usual flat belly was a little round. First, I thought that maybe while I was away, someone had changed her diet, causing her slight bloating. But then I checked her paperwork. She hasn’t had her period for four months. I touched her stomach; it was hard. Her breasts too! I checked her recent bloodwork. Her estrogen levels were through the roof. So, I went out to purchase a pregnancy test kit … I don’t know why I thought her to be pregnant. I mean, she’s been here since she was eight and her condition hasn’t changed. But I did it anyway. I had this hunch—this bad feeling. I used a syringe to remove some urine from the bag and tested it. I’m no doctor, but she’s displaying all the signs of a pregnancy.”
As the pale-faced director fell into his plush rotating chair, the printed scoresheets of football games flapped on the wall behind him.
“If this is true, we are ruined,” the man said breathlessly. “We are done. Your job. Mine. Everyone in this shithole.” His jaws tightened—bones pushing against his tanned skin. “FUCK!” he shouted and swept everything off his desk with his arm.
