Try Not to Breathe, page 1
Praise for David Bell and his Novels
“When six students are trapped inside Hyde House, so, too, is the reader—helpless to escape until the final page is turned. The Finalists is a smart and compelling look at the dark underbelly of academia.”
—Charlie Donlea, USA Today bestselling author of Twenty Years Later
“And Then There Were None meets Knives Out in David Bell’s latest astonishing thriller. With Bell’s customary biting wit and razor-sharp social commentary, The Finalists will have you cackling one minute while racing through its short, propulsive chapters the next, desperate to find out whodunit. Utterly riveting with intricate plot twists. Bell has crafted the summer’s most entertaining and masterful ‘locked-room’ mystery. I couldn’t put it down!”
—May Cobb, author of My Summer Darlings
“The Finalists is proof positive that David Bell is one of the best thriller writers working today.”
—Alma Katsu, author of Red Widow
“[A] smart, highly entertaining mystery with red herrings galore and such perfect dialogue, you’ll feel like a fly on the wall. . . . The characters will play tricks on your mind, the house will feel like it’s closing in, and the story will keep you guessing until the very end. Not to be missed!”
—Hannah Mary McKinnon, international bestselling author of Never Coming Home
“David Bell is a top-notch storyteller. . . . I flew through this twisting, riveting psychological thriller.”
—Cristina Alger, New York Times bestselling author of Girls Like Us
“Terrifically tense . . . will keep you guessing until the very end.”
—Riley Sager, New York Times bestselling author of Survive the Night
“[A] suspenseful, page-turning thriller.”
—HelloGiggles
“A tale straight out of the psychological thriller territory blazed by the likes of Harlan Coben and Lisa Gardner.”
—The Providence Journal
“A compulsive, twisty, race-against-the-clock thriller . . . [a] smart and unrelenting page-turner!”
—Lisa Unger, New York Times bestselling author of Confessions on the 7:45
“Grabs you by the throat and never lets go . . . will keep you reading late into the night, with a twist you’ll never see coming.”
—Liv Constantine, bestselling author of The Last Mrs. Parrish
“A dark, twisty journey . . . one of David Bell’s most unique and engrossing novels.”
—Samantha Downing, USA Today bestselling author of My Lovely Wife
“Only the diabolical mind of the talented storyteller David Bell could concoct this mind-bendingly twisty thriller! . . . Smart, audacious, and completely original.”
—Hank Phillippi Ryan, USA Today bestselling author of The First to Lie
“A tautly told, heart-pounding read . . . every character’s a suspect and no one can be trusted.”
—Mary Kubica, New York Times bestselling author of The Other Mrs.
ALSO BY DAVID BELL
Cemetery Girl
The Hiding Place
Never Come Back
The Forgotten Girl
Somebody I Used to Know
Since She Went Away
Bring Her Home
Somebody’s Daughter
Layover
The Request
Kill All Your Darlings
The Finalists
BERKLEY
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
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Copyright © 2023 by David J. Bell
Readers Guide copyright © 2023 by David J. Bell
Penguin Random House supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin Random House to continue to publish books for every reader.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Bell, David, 1969 November 17- author.
Title: Try not to breathe / David Bell.
Description: New York : Berkley, [2023]
Identifiers: LCCN 2022056159 (print) | LCCN 2022056160 (ebook) | ISBN 9780593549957 (hardcover) | ISBN 9780593549964 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9780593549971 (ebook)
Classification: LCC PS3602.E64544 T79 2023 (print) |
LCC PS3602.E64544 (ebook) | DDC 813/.6--dc23/eng/20221205
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022056159
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022056160
First Edition: June 2023
Cover design by Jordan Jacob
Cover image of woman in cave entrance © Thomas Szadziuk / Trevillion Images
Book design by George Towne, adapted for ebook by Kelly Brennan
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, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
pid_prh_6.0_144159182_c0_r0
Contents
Cover
Praise for David Bell
Also by David Bell
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Part II
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Part III
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Part IV
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Readers Guide
Questions for Discussion
About the Author
_144159182_
For Molly
PART I
1
Anna stepped out of the Uber.
Correction—she stumbled out of the Uber.
She steadied herself in the parking lot, waiting for the world to stop tilting. The driver, relieved to have deposited his drunk passenger, drove off into the night, red taillights glowing.
The steps to her apartment rose ahead of her. One flight, but it might as well have been fifty. Why had she and Kayla signed a lease for a second-floor unit?
The night sky was clear, a million stars like glowing dots. No wind, but it was cold. Anna shivered, tugged her jean jacket tighter. Her body shook. Just go inside, into your warm bed.
The world stopped spinning. Anna mouthed a silent prayer of thanks. She told herself she’d never drink tequila again. She amended the statement right away—she would never drink anything again. She’d been partying too much, staying out too late. Failing out of school. Everything spiraling—
She shook her head, stopped the out-of-control thoughts. Just get your ass inside.
Anna started forward, stepping cautiously. Don’t rush, don’t fall. She dug in her purse, reaching for her keys. She knew Kayla would have locked the door. Dependable, reliable Kayla. Asleep at eleven, homework finished. Dishes washed and put away. The next day’s clothes ready to go.
Anna lived with her opposite. She loved Kayla dearly, but how had they become and stayed such good friends?
Anna grabbed the keys. Score. She hated to have to ring the bell, get Kayla out of bed to let her in. That had happened a few times. Missing keys, lost phone. Forgotten credit card. But not tonight—Anna had made it home, and she gripped the keys as her foot hit the bottom step.
Something moved on her left. From the corner of her eye, she saw it.
The breath caught in her throat.
A figure coming from the direction of the building next door. A dark blur. A neighbor? Another drunk student?
It couldn’t be the Midnight Rambler, could it?
The Midnight Rambler. The town pervert. A guy who’d been creeping around outside girls’ apartments, peeking in windows, watching girls sleep. But he hadn’t been spotted in their complex, and Anna thought he’d get caught soon or go away, some loser who didn’t know how to get laid on his own—
Then the guy said something, called out a word in the dark.
Did he really just say that? Her name?
“Anna?”
She froze, looked his way. His face remained obscured. He wore dark clothes, walked with his hands in his pants pockets. What was the name of the guy next door? The one who had helped her get her car started the day she left her lights on? Was that him?
Why was he slinking around outside the building at . . . It was after two. Anna had stayed out until last call, slamming back one more shot before summoning a ride.
And did the dude next door even know her name?
Maybe he’d said something else. Maybe he’d just said hello. Or maybe he’d said nothing, and Anna had just heard a branch scraping, or the tequila was causing auditory hallucinations. Her stomach turned when she thought of the number of shots she’d consumed. Why do I do this to myself? Inside. She needed to get inside. Bathroom, Tylenol, water, bed—
She started up the stairs, turning away from the shadowy figure. She dismissed him. He wasn’t the Rambler. Just another drunken student, one of her brethren in late-night debauchery. He needed to get into his apartment, sleep off his drunk while vowing never to do it again—
“Anna?”
Anna stopped again, halfway up. She looked back into the gloom. The man stood five feet back from the lowest step, his face still obscured. How did he know her name?
And if he knew her name—if he was a friend—why did he linger in the dark? Why not come right out and speak to her in the light?
Anna started up the stairs again. She missed the next step. Her foot came down on nothing but air, and her knees pounded against the concrete. Her eyes watered with pain.
“Shit. Fuck.”
She regained her footing, started up. Moving quickly, stepping carefully. She didn’t look back.
She drew the keys out, eyed the lock. She prayed Kayla—who worried more about the Rambler than Anna ever had—hadn’t put the chain up as well.
Anna’s key hit the lock, and she tried to turn it. The lock stuck, as it sometimes did.
“Shit. No.”
The guy behind her started up the steps, heavy shoes against the concrete. Sweat popped out on Anna’s forehead. She jiggled the key, turned it again. Mercifully, it turned. Anna pushed, almost fell into the living room, then spun and slammed the door shut, shaking the walls. Her hands trembled as she turned the lock, grabbed the chain, and put it in place. Her heart jumped against her ribs like a bucking horse, and she collapsed against the door, holding herself up.
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she wiped them away.
She risked a look. She pressed her eye to the peephole. With a fish-eye view, she saw the dude on the landing, hands still stuffed in his pockets. He looked down, his face still obscured. He didn’t reach for the knob, but Anna worried he might. Maybe he’d try to kick the door in.
“Anna?”
She jumped a foot, almost screamed.
Anna turned around, saw Kayla behind her in the living room. Her roommate wore sweats and a Titans T-shirt. Her eyes were puffy from sleep.
“What’s going on?” she said. “I heard the door—”
“Look outside. Look. It’s the Rambler—or it’s . . . I don’t know.”
Kayla came over, rubbing her upper arms. “I was dead asleep. Are you okay?”
“Look.”
Kayla pressed her face to the door, turned her head from one side to the other. “I don’t see anything.”
“Kayla, there was a dude. He was out there in the dark. He came toward me—and—and—I think he said my name.”
“Do you know him?”
“No. I mean, I didn’t get a good look at his face. Oh, God, Kayla. I think I’m going to be sick.” She dropped her keys and purse on the floor, clutched her stomach. The tequila roiled like a stormy sea. “He scared the shit out of me.” She had to wipe more tears away.
“Anna, I’ve never seen you like this.” Kayla covered the distance between them, reached out, and took Anna in her arms. “My God, you’re shaking. Let’s call the police. Okay? Right now. That could be the Rambler. Or if he said your name—”
“I don’t know. Maybe I imagined it. I don’t know. . . .”
“Let’s call the police, okay?”
“No, no. I feel . . . I had too much to drink. I need to go to bed.”
“But, Anna, if you’re so scared . . .”
“Just, just . . .” Anna moved back, out of Kayla’s arms. “I can’t involve the cops. My dad— It’s just too complicated.”
“Anna, are you sure? You look terrified.”
“I’m just going to go to bed. I need to sleep this off, okay? I’m sorry I woke you.”
“It’s not about that, Anna. It’s about you—”
“I’m fine. Really.” Anna started for the bathroom, but she looked back once, studied the door.
She wanted to make sure—really sure—that the lock and chain were in place.
2
Morning light leaked through the blinds, assaulting Anna’s eyes.
She pulled the pillow over her head, burrowed into the warm sheets. She willed the world away.
Until the bedroom door swooshed open. Kayla. Always on time, always prepared.
“Anna? Hey, Anna? Are your ready to talk about last night?”
Anna spoke into the pillow.
“Anna, I can’t hear you.” Kayla yanked the blinds open. More light poured in—bright, stinging light.
“Damn it, Kayla.”
“This is serious, okay?” Kayla came to the side of the bed, tugged at the comforter. “Someone may be stalking you. We need to call the police now.”
Anna pictured Kayla without seeing her. Hands on hips, frowning mouth. Frustrated by her roommate. Eager to help and protect her. Light pouring over her shoulder, illuminating her rosy complexion, her bright eyes. Kayla was sickeningly healthy. And competent.
“I’ve tried to get you to go back to class and stop this academic spiral, but we’ve moved past that now. This is much more serious. And dangerous.”
Anna remained still. She couldn’t outlast Kayla, who was too good a friend, too loyal. Too determined. Anna pushed the pillow down, squinted against the burning light. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and a rhythmic pain beat time in her temple. “Oh, God . . . I think I’m dead.”
“There she is,” Kayla said. “Swing your legs onto the floor and then we’ll call the police. We can worry about class later.”
