The Family Next Door

Also by

FIONA CUMMINS

Rattle

The Collector

FIONA CUMMINS

The Family Next Door

PINNACLE BOOKS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

Table of Contents

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Title Page
Copyright Page
Epigraph
PROLOGUE
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Teaser chapter
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

PINNACLE BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018

Copyright © 2020 Fiona Cummins

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

PINNACLE BOOKS and the Pinnacle logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

ISBN: 978-0-7860-4623-2

First Pinnacle paperback printing: February 2020

Electronic edition:

ISBN-13: 978-0-7860-4624-9 (e-book)

ISBN-10: 0-7860-4624-4 (e-book)

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

—DANTE

PROLOGUE

Saturday 20th July 1985, 3:00 P.M.

18 The Avenue

GRAND REOPENING
AND
PUPPET SHOW TODAY

At first, the children were laughing.

The snap of crocodile teeth. A ballerina in a tutu tripping over her feet. The painted cheeks of a policeman blowing out a breath.

The limbs of the puppets jerked with a peculiar sort of grace, and the Doll & Fancy Dress Emporium echoed with the sound of merry voices and a promise of new beginnings.

There were two girls and two boys, dropped off by their unsuspecting parents. A handful of years between them. Gap-toothed and radiant with the possibilities of lives yet to be lived. Not knowing that in a few minutes’ time a clock would be set, a countdown, their fates decided in the dark heart of a toyshop on that summer’s afternoon. Four clockwork mice, whirring busily on their wheels until one day they stop moving. Run down. Dead.