This riveting psychological thriller from Steve Cavanagh, author of the “twisty” ( The New York Times ) Kill for Me, Kill for You , asks: What if the witness was more dangerous than the killer? Something is wrong with Ruby Johnson. A former resident of the ultra-elite Manhattan upper class, Ruby now works as a maid in the type of houses she used to live in. Unassuming, she sees everyone’s dirty secrets from the inside of their beautiful, renovated brownstones. But when Ruby witnesses a murder, she has wicked plans in mind that don’t involve telling the authorities the truth. Eddie Flynn, streetwise ex con-artist-turned-defense attorney, is the only lawyer in New York City willing to take on hopeless cases. And none is more hopeless than John Jackson’s—the gun that killed his neighbor found, with Jackson’s DNA, in his own home. Flynn and his unconventional team will need to use every trick they know to keep an innocent man from being locked up. But to save his client’s life, Eddie must first protect his own, as the scariest organized criminals in the city are out for his head. Perfect for fans of Lisa Jewell and Megan Miranda, Witness 8 is a fresh knockout page-turner from an author who is “the real deal” (Lee Child, #1 New York Times bestselling author). Praise for Kill for Me, Kill for You “For readers drawn to white-knuckle plots and unpredictable twists, this one won’t disappoint.” — Harper’s Bazaar “Twisty…full of surprises.” — The New York Times “A deeply twisted, totally brilliant Hitchcockian thriller. Unguessable and unputdownable, Kill for Me, Kill for You is one of the most ingenuous thrillers I’ve read in a long time.”—Alex Michaelides , #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Silent Patient “From a master storyteller comes an explosive revenge tale that’s never less than first class. Kill For Me, Kill For You by Steve Cavanagh is smart, stylish and fearless—the ultimate treat for crime fiction fans. Expect an intriguing cast and a plot full of surprises as it leaves Strangers on a Train trembling in its wake. Five breathless stars.” —Janice Hallett, internationally bestselling author of The Appeal “Steve Cavanagh's twists hit you between the eyes. You never see them coming.” —Anthony Horowitz, New York Times bestselling author of Magpie Murders “A sophisticated, emotionally complex thriller for the discerning suspense reader, with characters who drive you across 350 hold-your-breath pages and into a showstopping finale.” —A.J. Finn, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Woman in the Window “Explosive, game-changing reveals that, combined with an uncommon attunement to the central characters’ emotional arcs, make for a wild, deliciously satisfying ride.” — Publishers Weekly (Starred Review) “Fresh and original.” — Booklist Praise for Steve Cavanagh “A brilliant, twisty, ingeniously constructed puzzle of a book. Steve Cavanagh pulls off an enviable premise with panache.” -- Ruth Ware, #1 New York Times bestselling author “Ingenious.” —Michael Connelly “This guy is the real deal. Trust me.” —Lee Child Steve Cavanagh is the bestselling and award-winning author of several books, including the Eddie Flynn series and Kill for Me, Kill for You . A former lawyer, he was born and raised in Belfast, Northern Ireland, where he still lives. Find out more at SteveCavanaghAuthor.com. Prologue: Ruby PROLOGUE Ruby There’s something wrong with Ruby Johnson. That’s what her grandma used to say. These days, Ruby often thought about what her grandmother had said. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. She was twenty-two now. Older, definitely wiser, and perhaps more self-aware. It often occurred to Ruby that she was not like other people. It happened in moments such as this. It was coming up on midnight. Ruby was at the counter, stirring a cup of coffee, in a kitchen almost twice the size of her apartment. The kitchen belonged to a thirty-five-million-dollar town house on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. Chad and Lara Puller were due to return any time now. They were one of Ruby’s newer clients. She’d been sitting for them for just a few months. Upstairs, Clara, six, and Zara, recently turned three, were fast asleep in their large and expensively decorated bedrooms. Babysitting made up about forty percent of Ruby’s little enterprise. Mostly she worked as a maid and/or cleaner for most of the high-class residents of West Seventy-Fourth Street. To buy a house here you had to be seriously rich. Throw a nickel in any direction and you’d hit a successful Broadway producer, a plastic surgeon, a CEO of a high-end tech company, or anyone on the board of a Fortune 500 behemoth. At any time, there could be between twelve million and thirty million dollars’ worth of cars parked by the curbs. The long-term residents grew up here. Old money from New York real estate, not the two-bit slumlords who pretended to be millionaires. These people were rich. Cr