Neighbourly suspicions lead to the unravelling of suburban secrets in this tense, sophisticated crime novel that asks: how much can we really know about the people next door?
Someone is creeping round the neighbourhood at night, tapping at locks and climbing through windows.
A woman's body has been found; another woman has been missing for six months.
Someone's son has not been home since Thursday, and it's not like him to miss a Sunday roast.
Are rumours the only things connecting them?
People wonder about Earl. Greasy Grayson, stringy hair and ladies' glasses, socks and sandals, and something not quite right. There are secrets in his cellar and he's no longer afraid of the dark.
Veronica has her own misgivings. Her children are growing up, and soon they won't need her at all. Still, she will stop at nothing to protect her cubs.
Lara watches everyone from her baby's bedroom window, but she knows better than most that what we can see of a person is not all there is.
How much truth do we owe to those who ask? How much is enough to stop them asking?
Not everyone is safe as houses. Behind closed doors you only need to justify your actions to yourself.
