4.2
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3,695 ratings
"I'm a huge fan of Sarah Pekkanen's books, and GONE TONIGHT is her best yet." ―Colleen Hoover
"Jaw-dropping. Layered. Triumphant.” - The New York Times
When Ruth Sterling was a teenager, she slipped away one night, desperate to escape an abusive home and a troubling boyfriend. Pregnant, alone, and prepared to do anything to survive, she eventually makes a life for herself―and soon, for her newborn daughter Catherine. For more than twenty years, Ruth has lived quietly and has provided for her daughter. But she is always ready to run at a moment’s notice, and never allows either of them to put down roots too deeply. Now, Catherine is grown and craves a life for herself. This is something her mother will do anything to prevent―but for what reasons? It has always been just the two of them against the world. But how well do they really know each other? When Ruth’s deeply held quest to keep Catherine by her side reveals cracks in her carefully constructed world, both mother and daughter begin a dance of deception. They both have secrets. But which one of them carries the real darkness inside?
Propulsive, brilliantly layered, and a true shocker, Gone Tonight is an emotionally thrilling powerhouse of a novel about the things we do for love, and what we’re capable of when pushed to the limit.
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ISBN-10
1250336163
ISBN-13
978-1250336163
Print length
368 pages
Language
English
Publisher
SMP
Publication date
May 13, 2024
Dimensions
5.4 x 0.92 x 8.2 inches
Item weight
11.4 ounces
ASIN :
B0B9KVTSJP
File size :
2031 KB
Text-to-speech :
Enabled
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Supported
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“Jaw-dropping. Layered. Triumphant.” - The New York Times
“Sarah Pekkanen’s startling, breathtaking tale of a mother and daughter will plunge you into a plot layered by lies and trauma but still infused with love. Through deft writing and thoughtful character development, she’s created a fast-paced thriller in Gone Tonight, daring to ask deep questions about love versus fear, and control versus protection.” --Readers Digest
"This riveting, original, and powerful mother-daughter story kept me glued to the pages. I'm a huge fan of Sarah Pekkanen's books, and GONE TONIGHT is her best yet." --Colleen Hoover
“Gone Tonight is all the best of Pekkanen’s last few collaborations... easily the best thriller I’ve read all year. In an oversaturated market where even the best authors seem to be phoning it in, Pekkanen is here to remind her readers that thrills can still be shocking, twists can still be unexpected, and reading can still keep you up way past your bedtime. This is the thriller I’ve been waiting for.”―Bookreporter
"Filled with buried secrets and jaw-dropping deception, Sarah Pekkanen's GONE TONIGHT is a page-turning thriller about a mother-daughter you won't soon forget.. What would make a teenage girl vanish into the night and live a life on the run for two decades? Read Gone Tonight. It's a wild ride." -- Harlan Coben, #1 New York Times Bestselling Author
“Gone Tonight is an intense, harrowing story about long-buried secrets and the trauma they inflict. The mother-daughter relationship is both thrilling and heartbreaking, with characters you won’t soon forget. Captivating from beginning to end.” – Samantha Downing, internationally bestselling author of My Lovely Wife.
"With prose that cuts like knife―full of both emotion and twists―GONE TONIGHT proves why Sarah Pekkanen is one of the finest thriller writers working today. Just when you think Pekkanen couldn't possibly outdo herself, she delivers with what will undoubtedly be crowned one of the year's best novels. Fresh, inventive, and with a gut-punch you won’t see coming, GONE TONIGHT is this decade’s Gone Girl. Believe the hype."-- Alex Finlay, author of The Night Shift
"Catherine Sterling’s personal and professional worlds are beginning to collide: she’s a nurse who cares for patients with Alzheimer’s disease, and her mother is starting to show classic symptoms. The two live together, making the forgetfulness hard to miss, with Ruth Sterling looking very confused when recent events are discussed and forgetting words―calling ice cubes “water squares,” for example. Ruth is reluctant to get any scans that could confirm the likely diagnosis―her mother died of Alzheimer’s, she says, and she knows what’s ahead. But then Catherine makes a discovery that causes her to doubt that her mother’s problems are real. As the point of view shifts between the two women, readers get Ruth’s first-person point of view; her odd behavior is hiding an explosive past that Catherine knows nothing about. Readers are in for a wild cat-and-mouse game as this tight duo (boundaries, what are they?) faces terrible odds when Catherine delves into her mother’s past and Ruth hides the pair from an encroaching threat. There are some very sad moments here, related to dire poverty and child sexual abuse. Overall, it’s an eye-opening look at how “our minds…talk us out of things we don’t want to know.”―First Clue
"Prepare to stay up until the wee hours devouring GONE TONIGHT by Sarah Pekkanen." --Real Simple
“Your heart will race until the final page.” --Westport Magazine
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CHAPTER ONE
CATHERINE
My mother walks through our tiny living room, her eyes sweeping over our old blue couch and coffee table, before she briefly disappears into the galley kitchen.
“I just had them in my hand.” Her voice is tinged with something darker than frustration as she begins another lap.
I should jump up from the couch and help her look for her keys so she isn’t late for her shift at the diner.
But I don’t want her to notice I’ve begun to tremble.
“Check your purse again?” I suggest.
She frowns and reaches into her shoulder bag.
My mother is organized. Methodical. Detail oriented. Her purse isn’t a jumble of crumpled receipts and loose change. Sunglasses in a case, small bills facing the same way in her wallet, cherry ChapStick and hand lotion zipped into her makeup bag—it’s containers within a container.
She shakes her head and walks to the raincoat hanging on a hook by our front door, searching through its pockets.
Maybe her father is absentminded. Perhaps her cousins grew distracted when they approached middle age. It could be something our relatives tease each other about when they gather for holidays.
I don’t know. I’ve never met them.
When I had to create a family tree in the fourth grade, I was able to fill out only two names on a single branch. My mother’s and mine.
My stomach tightens as I watch her bend down and check around the mat by the front door where we put our shoes. She looks even thinner than usual in her uniform of black slacks and matching polo shirt with a red waitressing apron tied around her waist.
She hasn’t been able to eat for the past few days. At night I hear her restless movements through the thin wall that separates our bedrooms.
Tomorrow she has an appointment with a neurologist.
Everyone loses their keys, I tell myself. The neurologist will have a simple explanation for my mother’s strange new symptoms. He’ll prescribe medication and advise her to get more sleep and send us on our way.
But my pulse is accelerating.
I force myself to inhale slow, even breaths. The worst thing I can do is fall apart. My nursing classes taught me about the power the body wields over the mind, and vice versa. Right now I need a steady physiology to assert control.
It works. After a minute, I feel able to stand. I walk over to my mom, thinking hard, then dip my hand into the big pocket of her apron.
Relief crashes over her face as I pull out her keys.
“I’m losing my mi-”
“Could you grab another box if the diner has any?”
I don’t really need more moving boxes. I just couldn’t bear to hear her complete that sentence.
I already have a half-dozen cardboard boxes I pulled out of a recycling bin behind a liquor store. I don’t own many possessions and I pack quickly. I’ve had plenty of practice.
When families move out of houses in the suburbs, neighbors throw going-away parties and the moms get weepy after a few glasses of wine.
People like us, we move on to a new apartment and no one notices.
I’d planned to sort through my books and clothes this morning. But until we see the specialist, everything feels suspended in midair.
My mom rises to her tiptoes to kiss my cheek, then opens the door and is gone, her footsteps growing fainter.
I wait for silence. Then I reach for my phone and call up the list I’m secretly compiling.
Misplacing her keys might not be another piece of evidence. Still, I document it along with today’s date.
Then my eyes roam over the dozen other incidents I’ve recorded of all the things my mother has lost—a twenty-dollar bill, her train of thought, her way home from the drugstore that’s just a mile away.
All happened within the past month.
CHAPTER TWO
RUTH
I’m good at disappearing. We women do it all the time.
We vanish in the eyes of men when we hit our forties. We dive into roles like motherhood and our identities slip away. We disappear at the hands of predators. We’re conditioned to shrink, to drop weight, to take up less physical space in the world.
“Hi, I’m Ruth, and I’ll be your server.”
I spoke that line at least twenty times during my shift today. It’s a safe bet none of the customers I greeted could repeat my name five seconds later.
That’s a good thing. Being inconspicuous suits me.
No one takes notice of me as I walk down the path parallel to the Susquehanna River, watching its surface gently ripple as the current draws it beneath the South Street Bridge. The air feels swollen with moisture and clouds blot the brightness from the day, but I keep on my dark sunglasses.
My feet ache from fetching sunny-side-up platters and club sandwiches and bottomless coffee refills, but I push myself to move faster.
I didn’t tell Catherine I was running an errand on the way home. She may worry if I’m late, especially since I set my phone to airplane mode when I left work so she can’t see my destination.
I climb the curving, split staircase that leads to the library entrance. I push open the front door and follow my routine: I make sure no one I recognize is nearby, then choose the most secluded computer.
The old wooden chair creaks as I settle into it and use my library card to gain access to the internet.
It would be easier if I could borrow Catherine’s MacBook to do my checking—like I used to until I learned about search histories. Who knew computers keep tabs on you even after you shut them down? It’s creepy.
Now I don’t even use my iPhone to google anyone from my past since Catherine and I share a phone plan and I might unknowingly be leaving electronic bread crumbs.
Catherine thinks I don’t miss anyone I left behind. I encourage her to believe this because it means fewer questions. But I ache for my dad and brother. Even if they’ve washed their hands of me. Even if the thought of me conjures disgust in their minds.
After all these years, it’s still hard to breathe as I begin my search.
I look in on my little brother first, connecting with him in the only way I can. Timmy has a Facebook page, but it’s set to private so what I can see is limited. His profile picture shows his two-year-old twins. His daughter has a smile that looks like mischief brewing. His son is a near replica of Timmy when he was young, and I wonder if he’ll live for baseball and ice cream, too.
I stare at Tim—he must’ve shed his childhood nickname—wondering how he met his wife and what he tells her about me. If he mentions me at all.
I search for my father next. There’s nothing new, just a few grainy photos I’ve seen countless times, and in those it’s hard to make out his face clearly.
Still, I soak him in, trying to conjure the sound of his voice—husky yet tender—when he tucked me in at night, and the way he would rest his cool palm on my forehead when I had a fever as if he could pull the sickness out of me.
What I would give to feel his arms wrap around me one more time and inhale the warm, woodsy scent of the Old Spice he wore.
When I left my parents’ house as a teenager with nothing but a few changes of clothes, a little money, and a gold watch, I knew they would be relieved I was gone and would never try to find me.
One thing kept me from collapsing and giving up: the baby growing inside me.
I may no longer be a daughter or a sister, but I am—and will always be—a mother.
Catherine and I have each other. We’ve never needed anyone else.
The final person I check on is my old boyfriend, James Bates.
There’s nothing new on James either. He never married, which I have mixed feelings about.
There aren’t any recent photos of James, so I’ve constructed an age progression image in my mind: his sandy-colored hair is close-cropped now, graying at the temples. The lean frame he had at nineteen is thicker, and lines bracket his mouth. All this only adds to his appeal.
Late at night is when I think about James the most. When I can’t sleep, even though the time my shift will start is drawing closer. I try to imagine what James is doing at that exact same moment, nearly a hundred miles away.
I always come to the same conclusion: He’s lying in bed in the darkness, just like me.
I wonder if he’s thinking about me, too.
A heavy crack erupts beside me, the noise exploding through the air.
I leap to my feet, twisting toward the sound.
“Sorry.” The teenager who dropped a stack of hardback books onto the table next to me shrugs.
“You need to be more careful!” My voice is loud and harsh. Heads swivel in my direction.
I’m no longer invisible.
Which means I need to leave the library as fast as I can.
CHAPTER THREE
CATHERINE
The doctor rises from a chair behind his desk as we enter his office. I’m not sure what I expected, but it isn’t this: a small, sterile room with mud-dull carpet and a schoolhouse-style clock hung on the beige wall. But the diplomas displayed on his bookshelf are from good schools, and I’ve checked him out. He’s the best neurologist around.
He walks around his desk, not avoiding our eyes but not smiling either. I can’t read a verdict in his expression. He’s good at navigating this fraught moment, but then he must have a lot of practice.
“I’m Alan Chen,” he introduces himself.
“Nice to meet you,” my mother replies. “I’m Ruth Sterling, and this”—she touches my shoulder—“is my daughter, Catherine.”
I step forward to shake his hand as his eyes widen in surprise behind his glasses.
Now our roles have shifted and I’m the one who has had practice navigating this uncomfortable moment. Dr. Chen urges us to sit down and offers us water, but all the while I can see him doing the mental math.
My mother has a few silver strands glittering like tinsel in her chocolate-brown hair and slightly crimped skin around her big hazel eyes. She looks her age—forty-two. I look older than my twenty-four years, and I’m told I act it, too. That’s probably because smiling isn’t a reflex for me the way it’s expected to be for young women.
Dr. Chen recovers quicker than most. By the time he is back in his chair, opening the chart on his desk, his expression is inscrutable again.
He jumps right in: “Ruth, can you tell me about some of the symptoms you’re experiencing?”
I’m certain that information is already documented in his folder in the pages of paperwork my mother filled out, along with the results of the blood test from her primary physician that ruled out possibilities like a vitamin B12 deficiency and Lyme disease.
“At first it was little things.” The material of my mother’s slacks rustles as she crosses her legs. “Dumb stuff that happens to everyone. It just started happening more often to me. Like I couldn’t remember the word I wanted. Forgot to unplug the iron. That kind of thing.”
“And you noticed an increase in these sorts of events how long ago?” Dr. Chen prompts.
The silence stretches out. A red button on the doctor ’s desk phone begins to flash, but he ignores it. A strange current is humming through the air. It feels electric.
I’m about to break in with the answer—a month ago—when my mom opens her mouth and beats me to it.
“Maybe four months ago.” Her voice is almost a whisper.
I suck in a quick breath and whip my head to the side to look at her. Her expression is calm, but her hands are restless. She’s toying with the delicate topaz ring she always wears, spinning it in circles around her finger.
Dr. Chen jots a note on one of the papers in his file. “And it’s getting worse?”
My mother nods.
I pull my iPhone out of my purse and call up my list.
5/07: Put sunglasses in kitchen drawer.
5/10: Called ice cubes “water squares.”
5/12: Forgot what month it was.
Dr. Chen asks my mom a few more questions, then closes his folder. “There are some tests we can run.…”
My throat is so tight I have to clear it before I can speak. “Cognitive tests, or do we go straight to brain imaging?”
My mother leans forward and even now—standing alone in the path of what must feel like a great onrushing cement wall—pride fills her voice. “Catherine’s going to be a nurse. She just graduated cum laude and she’s about to start work at Johns Hopkins Hospital. She’s moving to Baltimore in two weeks.”
“Congratulations,” Dr. Chen tells me. “Hopkins is an impressive place. What’s your specialty?”
“Geriatrics. I work part-time at a nursing home.” I watch as the irony hits him. He may be the expert in neurology, but when it comes to my mother’s presenting symptoms, I’m no novice.
I’m assigned to the Memory Wing, the section of our facility where people with dementia or Alzheimer’s or traumatic brain injuries reside. I see symptoms like the ones my mother is describing nearly every single day.
I refuse to assume the worst, though. I know my job could be shaping my fears, and there might be a simple reason for my mother’s confusion and memory lapses.
My mom is petite, but there’s nothing soft or weak about her.
She’s a fighter. Indestructible. She has to be.
We talk with Dr. Chen about various testing options, but my mom resists scheduling a CT scan. I assume it’s because of the expense. We’ve got a bare-bones health care plan, and after the cost of this appointment our savings account will be one car breakdown away from being demolished. Then something happens that makes me feel as if I’ve plunged into ice water.
My mom stands up and paces between her chair and the wall. My stomach coils tighter with every step. The longer her pacing, the worse the news. It’s as pure a formula as a mathematical proof.
My mom paced when I was in the tenth grade, shortly after I began dating my first boyfriend and was enjoying the best school year of my life—right before she announced she’d lost her job, we were being evicted, and we were moving from Lancaster to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.
She paced at Christmastime, when I was four, and then she told me Santa’s workshop had had a fire and I wouldn’t be getting any presents.
She paced just before she told me why her conservative, religious family had cut her off, why I’d never met any grandparents or aunts or cousins and never would: She got pregnant in high school, her boyfriend denied I was his, and they threw her away—every single one of them did. But she didn’t care because I was worth all of them put together.
The wall clock’s needle-thin red hand sweeps in relentless circles. It strikes me as unbearably cruel that, as they sit in his office, Dr. Chen’s patients are forced to confront the dwindling of the very thing they desire most.
My mother reaches the wall and turns for another lap.
The swelling pressure closes in on me, and my voice sounds as high and panicky as it did when I was a child and awoke from a nightmare: “Mom!”
She stops pacing. She meets my eyes for the first time since we entered the office.
The news she delivers isn’t bad.
It’s catastrophic.
“There’s one thing I didn’t put down on the forms. Maybe I just couldn’t deal with having to write the words.… My mother and I were estranged, but she passed away right before she turned fifty. An old friend tracked me down years ago to let me know.”
This is the first I’ve heard of any of this.
I’m still reeling as my mom continues, “She died from early-onset Alzheimer’s.”
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Sarah Pekkanen
Sarah Pekkanen is the #1 New York Times bestselling co-author of four novels of suspense including THE GOLDEN COUPLE and THE WIFE BETWEEN US, and the solo author of the thriller GONE TONIGHT, will be published Aug. 1, 2023. Colleen Hoover says it is "Riveting, original and powerful. I'm a huge fan of Sarah Pekkanen's books, and GONE TONIGHT is her best yet!"
Sarah is also the author of eight USA Today and internationally-bestselling solo novels: THE OPPOSITE OF ME, SKIPPING A BEAT, THESE GIRLS, THE BEST OF US, CATCHING AIR, THINGS YOU DON'T SAY, THE PERFECT NEIGHBORS and THE EVER AFTER. Her books have been translated into dozens of languages.
In her free time, Sarah is a dedicated volunteer for rescue animals and serves as Ambassador for RRSA India, working hands-on to vaccinate and heal street dogs in Anand, India. She also volunteers weekly for a horse rescue group in Maryland, mucking stalls and helping mistreated horses heal.
Sarah lives just outside of Washington, D.C. with her family. Please follow Sarah on Facebook and Instagram @sarahpekkanen and visit www.sarahpekkanen.com
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Customer reviews
4.2 out of 5
3,695 global ratings
mnmloveli
5
AWESOME READ ! Best book yet !
Reviewed in the United States on October 4, 2023
Verified Purchase
‘23 - 5 STARS
DESCRIPTION: Catherine Sterling thinks she knows her mother. Ruth Sterling is quiet, hardworking, and lives for her daughter. All her life, it's been just the two of them against the world. But now, Catherine is ready to spread her wings, move from home, and begin a new career. And Ruth Sterling will do anything to prevent that from happening. Ruth Sterling thinks she knows her daughter. Catherine would never rebel, would never question anything about her mother's past or background. But when Ruth's desperate quest to keep her daughter by her side begins to reveal cracks in Ruth's carefully-constructed world, both mother and daughter begin a dance of deception. No one can know Ruth's history. There is a reason why Ruth kept them moving every few years, and why she was ready--in a moment's notice--to be gone in the night. But danger is closing in. Is it coming from the outside, from Ruth's past? Is Ruth reaching a breaking point? Or is the danger coming from the darkness that may live in Catherine, herself?
REVIEW: Previous books by this author for me, which were all co-authored with Greer Hendricks, were The Golden Couple (‘22 - 4 Stars), You Are Not Alone (‘20 - 5 stars), An Anonymous Girl (‘19 - 4 Stars) and The Wife Between Us (‘18 - 3 Stars). I just realized she has lots of books out there on her own but I’ve never tried any. I guess it was time to jump-in!
Writing moves the tale along rapidly. During the first 10-15% I’m hoping the Alzheimer topic goes in a different direction. All the reviews speak more “thriller” and not “drama”; not wanting to read about illness or sadness. At 60% I’m enjoying every minute of this twisty thriller. Very original suspenseful plot for me with touches of mother/daughter emotional relationships. I wanted a little more from the ending but I enjoyed this “ride” so much, I didn’t let it change my 5-star rating!
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9 people found this helpful
CAH
5
A Page-Turner
Reviewed in the United States on July 20, 2024
Verified Purchase
Stories with an unexpected twist have always been my favorites. Gone Tonight didn't disappoint! Ruth and Catherine Sterling barely know each other, but more so, they are just learning about themselves. Little did they know the lengths they go to protect each other
bookish.kz
5
Found myself wanting to read non-stop!
Reviewed in the United States on January 14, 2024
Verified Purchase
One of the things I loved about this book was that the characters alternated chapters, which easily makes wanting to keep reading to find what happens next easier. It’s hard to say just one more chapter when you can’t complete the scenarios without reading on. I would read until my eyes wouldn’t allow me to anymore. The book itself kept me guessing, I speculated along the way but some things I was saying to myself “this woman is crazy!” And then yelling at the daughter for doing things she was messing up. The end was wrapped up nicely, I would definitely recommend this as your next read!
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Brandy Thornton
5
Fast Paced Suspense!
Reviewed in the United States on May 30, 2024
Verified Purchase
Lies, betrayals, secrets, stalking, … this was a fast-paced suspense at its finest with a twist that was both unsurprising and terrifying all at once.
Kindle Customer
4
New type of story - spoiler sorry
Reviewed in the United States on January 1, 2024
Verified Purchase
I liked this book because it was different. It's refreshing to read a new type of storyline. I really enjoyed how the author went through the steps it took for Ruth/Ava to stay safe. What it might look like to be a person who only had a small amount of money and how she went from that to an apartment. I loved the Target storyline. I could totally see myself walking around. She only took stuff she needed. All in all a really good book that I think will stay with me for some time. The only reason for the 4 stars is because there was some repetition that got to be a bit much. Would recommend.
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