Narrated By: Sarah Scott
Duration: 10 hours and 18 minutes
What to expect
Random House presents the audiobook edition of Arrowood by Laura McHugh, read by Sarah Scott.
Arrowood is the grandest of historical houses lining the Mississippi. It has its own stories and ghostly presence: it’s where two small twin girls were abducted ten years ago…
Now, Arden has returned to her childhood home determined to establish what really happened to her sisters that traumatic summer.
But the house and the surrounding town hold their secrets close - and the truth, when Arden finds it, is more devastating than she ever could have imagined.
Family lies, buried secrets and a terrifying truth lie at the heart of this brilliant and haunting crime novel.
'Kept me guessing and re-guessing all the way to its inexorable conclusion' Ruth Ware, Sunday Timesbestselling author of The Woman in Cabin 10.
‘Superb and subtle psychological suspense, and a compelling mystery, too . . . I thought I knew who did it, but I was wrong—four times’ Lee Child
‘This robust, old-fashioned gothic mystery has everything you’re looking for: a creepy old house, a tenant with a secret history, and even a few ghosts. Laura McHugh’s novel sits at the intersection of memory and history, astutely asking whether we carry the past or it carries us’Jodi Picoult
Crime & mystery fiction, Modern & contemporary fiction
Listen to a sample
A failed graduate student's return to the family mansion she inherited from her grandfather touches off a maelstrom of emotion, regret and memories in McHugh's poignant second novel . . . Lyrical prose and in-depth character studies examine the reliability of memory, punctuated by believable suspense and aided by a careful look at a small town.
Cool, clever and infused with a compellingly chilly melancholy, Arrowood kept me guessing and re-guessing all the way to its inexorable conclusion.
McHugh’s slow exposure of an old crime is a pitch-perfect example of a Southern gothic.
Superb and subtle psychological suspense, and a compelling mystery, too . . . I thought I knew who did it, but I was wrong—four times.