Do No Harm Read online

  Praise for USA Today bestselling author Christina McDonald’s “compulsively readable” (Publishers Weekly) thrillers

  DO NO HARM

  “Gripping and unflinching, Do No Harm explores the ferocity of a mother’s love—and shows, in heartbreaking detail, how she’ll risk everything to save her child.”

  —Sarah Pekkanen, New York Times bestselling author of The Wife Between Us

  “The stakes couldn’t be higher in this smart, breathlessly paced, and emotional novel about love, family, and how far we’ll go when our child’s life hangs in the balance. Riveting, ripped from the headlines, and not to be missed.”

  —Lisa Unger, New York Times bestselling author of Confessions on the 7:45

  “Tense, taut, and absolutely unmissable. You’ll find yourself wondering how far YOU would go to save your child’s life.”

  —J.T. Ellison, New York Times bestselling author of Lie to Me

  “McDonald takes the heart-wrenching premise that has become her trademark and ratchets it up a notch in Do No Harm, blurring the lines between good and evil in a doctor desperate to save her sick child. A gripping, emotional roller coaster with a sting in the tail.”

  —Kimberly Belle, internationally bestselling author of The Marriage Lie

  “Christina McDonald knows how to pack an emotional punch! Do No Harm is a riveting, thought-provoking novel that keeps you reading even as it breaks your heart. This might be my favorite book by McDonald yet.”

  —Samantha Downing, USA Today bestselling author of My Lovely Wife

  “A page-turner with a heart-wrenching moral quandary at its core. Do No Harm is tense, moving, and disturbingly relevant.”

  —Robyn Harding, internationally bestselling author of The Swap and The Party

  “Devastating, heartbreaking, and incredibly timely—this risky and brilliant examination of when the ends justify the means will captivate you from moment one. As a doctor’s vow of ‘do no harm’ twists into ‘do whatever it takes,’ you’ll be riveted.”

  —Hank Phillippi Ryan, USA Today bestselling author of The Murder List

  “With her outstanding writing, Christina McDonald tackles the moral lines crossed by a doctor desperate to save her child. A stunning gut punch of a suspense novel, Do No Harm expertly merges the dangers of the opioid crisis with a mother’s love, leaving readers gasping for more. A breathtaking read.”

  —Samantha M. Bailey, #1 bestselling author of Woman on the Edge

  “Christina McDonald demands an answer to the ultimate question: How far would you go to save your child? One thing is for sure: your heart will be ripped out as you whip through each page to discover the answer. Highly recommend!”

  —Liz Fenton and Lisa Steinke, authors of How to Save a Life

  “Nobody writes motherhood like Christina McDonald. Do No Harm is a riveting thriller that braids the complexities of modern parenting with the pressures of finding a moral center in a devastating opioid crisis. Heartrending, heart-pounding, and fearless to the last word.”

  —Amber Cowie, author of Loss Lake

  BEHIND EVERY LIE

  “Behind Every Lie is a deep, suspenseful novel packed with family secrets. Christina McDonald has a true gift for creating characters that are so well developed, it feels like you know them. An outstanding achievement!”

  —Samantha Downing, #1 internationally bestselling author of My Lovely Wife

  “In Behind Every Lie, Christina McDonald brilliantly intertwines page-turning suspense with jaw-dropping family secrets. An emotionally charged domestic thriller that is sure to please!”

  —Wendy Walker, internationally bestselling author of The Night Before

  “A clever, tense, and absorbing novel—this tale of family secrets had me racing toward the final pages.”

  —Emma Rous, bestselling author of The Au Pair

  “Told in alternating narratives from Eva’s traumatic life and her mother’s mysterious past, the story twists and turns with one shocking revelation after another until it threatens to careen out of control. But behind every lie there is always a reason, and there is a satisfying ending once everyone’s hand is played out.”

  —Booklist

  “McDonald starts with a bang, then builds the action steadily, a gradual unfolding of secrets and lies that will have you constantly switching alliances. Read it like I did, in one sitting and straight through to the end, because you won’t want to put this one down.”

  —Kimberly Belle, internationally bestselling author of Dear Wife

  “A layered, gut-wrenching domestic thriller that explores the complexities of mothers and daughters and the secrets families keep. McDonald’s beautiful, emotional storytelling will leave you breathless. I don’t think I exhaled until the end.”

  —Jennifer Hillier, award-winning author of Jar of Hearts

  “An engrossing and utterly addictive thriller. I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough!”

  —Kathleen Barber, author of Follow Me and Truth Be Told

  “[A] fast-paced yarn that explores the lingering effects of trauma and abuse as well as the complex bonds between mothers and daughters. Readers who enjoy character-driven thrillers will be pleased.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  THE NIGHT OLIVIA FELL

  “McDonald ratchets up the suspense with every chapter, including plenty of gasp-worthy twists and turns. The suspense is supplemented by relationships of surprising depth and tenderness, providing balance and nuance. A worthy debut from an up-and-coming domestic-suspense author; readers who enjoy mother-daughter stories in the genre should line up for this one.”

  —Booklist (starred review)

  “A stunning thriller that instantly grabbed me by the throat and wouldn’t let go until the final, poignant sentence. McDonald artfully brings to the page the emotionally fraught, complex relationship between mother and daughter in this atmospheric, absorbing page-turner. The Night Olivia Fell cracked my heart into a million pieces and then slowly pieced it back together again.”

  —Heather Gudenkauf, New York Times bestselling author of Before She Was Found

  “I was absolutely hooked, it was such an emotional read that I was broken by the end. Heartbreaking and thrilling at the same time.”

  —Jenny Blackhurst, bestselling author of How I Lost You

  “This book is a tearjerker, so have tissues at hand. A well-structured story of how lying corrupts from the start that will keep pages turning.”

  —Library Journal

  “An emotionally charged mystery that will leave readers equally gut-wrenched and gripped. The Night Olivia Fell welcomes a talented new addition to the world of domestic suspense.”

  —Mary Kubica, New York Times bestselling author of The Other Mrs. and The Good Girl

  “The Night Olivia Fell takes a mother’s worst nightmare to a whole new level. This is an intense, twisting, heartbreaking thriller that explores in painful detail the consequences of family secrets. The reader will be riveted until the final page… and may even feel a bit of hope when all is said and done. Don’t miss this one!”

  —David Bell, bestselling author of Somebody’s Daughter

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  For my brother, Daniel McDonald.

  For beating the odds.

  For being strong.

 
I love you.

  PROLOGUE

  THE KNIFE BURROWED INTO my side with a moist thwump.

  I looked down, confused. The blade was buried so deep that the hand holding it was pressed almost flat against my stomach. My pulse hammered against the steel.

  And then I felt the fire. My mouth dropped open. The blood was rushing out of me too fast, I knew, soaking my shirt, turning it from white to red in seconds. It was too late. Too late to save myself.

  I looked into those familiar eyes, mouthed a single word.

  You.

  The knife slid out of me, a sickening, wet sound. Blood pooled at the bottom of my throat. And then I fell, an abrupt, uninterrupted drop.

  I blinked, my brain softening, dulling. Images clicked by, one by one.

  Polished black shoes.

  The blur of snow as it tumbled past the open door.

  The two-by-fours standing against the wall.

  My body felt like it was composed of nothing but air. I had failed.

  CHAPTER 1

  MY BODY ACHED AND my head thudded fiercely after twelve hours of being run off my feet at the clinic. But all that disappeared as soon as I got home and heard Josh call out for me.

  “Mommy, come upstairs!” he shouted.

  “I’m coming!” I called. I’d never expected to work so much after I finished my residency. But here I was, bone-tired and depleted.

  I shut the front door and dropped my purse onto the entry table. Upstairs, I could hear Nate whistling “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” off-key and Josh giggling. The house smelled of the rich, homey scents of Nate’s famous chili con carne. A ribbonlike thread of happiness wound around my heart, a gentle serenity easing over me.

  Josh’s room was an explosion of Star Wars fabrics, posters, and action figures. Nate was kneeling next to him. He was wearing the blue sweater I’d given him last Christmas, which of course made me think of this Christmas. Now that Thanksgiving was over, I needed to start shopping, decorating, planning. The only problem was finding the time.

  “Hey, Emma,” Nate greeted me, his blue eyes soft with love. I kissed my husband on the lips, thinking, as usual, how lucky I was. So many people call us by name, but very few make it sound special. Nate made mine feel special.

  Nate tugged Josh’s shirt off, revealing a handful of purple marks on his back. We both gasped.

  “Joshy, what happened!” I dropped to my knees and ran a hand down my son’s back.

  The bruises were faint but distinct, a gruesome grayish purple. They looked like a trail of stepping-stones marching up the knobs of his spine.

  “George slide-tackled me in soccer.”

  “Was it an accident?”

  “No.” Josh poked out his bottom lip. “He’s a poo-poo head.”

  “A poo-poo head, huh?” I tried to maintain my most solemn expression. “Why’d he do that?”

  “George kicked Ellie in the shin when she scored, so I told Mrs. Morrow and she took away our point. George said we would’ve won if I hadn’t blabbed. And then he slide-tackled me!” Josh looked at Nate earnestly. “But if we won, it wouldn’t be fair because we cheated. Right?”

  “That’s right, Joshy,” Nate replied seriously. “We have to do the right thing, even if it’s the hard thing.”

  I helped Josh pull on his pj’s, then lifted him into bed. He smelled of mango-scented shampoo and fruity toothpaste. I scooched in next to him, and Nate climbed in on the other side so Josh was nestled between us.

  “Pimple squish!” Josh giggled, that lovely childish giggle that made my heart melt. “I like pimple squishes. They make my heart happy.”

  Nate and I burst out laughing. Josh was a goofball. During last year’s holiday pageant, he’d put his shoes on his hands, stretched his arms above his head, and told the audience he was upside down, just to make them laugh.

  Nate drew Josh tight against him, and Josh leaned against his chest. I leaned against them both and closed my eyes with gratitude, just breathing them in.

  I never thought I’d get a chance to have a normal life. Before I met Nate, I hadn’t really belonged anywhere. I’d been an outsider. An orphan. Until I unexpectedly found out I was pregnant shortly after we’d started dating. But I got lucky with Nate. Marrying him, being a mom, had given me a chance to belong to a real family.

  I kissed Nate’s fingers where they were wrapped around Josh’s shoulders. He was telling Josh a bedtime story, speaking in that soft drawl I loved, every word a lullaby.

  “Once upon a time, a Native American chief and his wife had a beautiful daughter, who they were very proud of. For her thirteenth birthday, they planned a huge celebration. Swimming races and canoe races and bow-and-arrow contests. But a few days before her birthday, the girl became very sick.”

  “If she had Mommy, she wouldn’t have been sick,” Josh interrupted. “Because Mommy’s the best doctor in the world.”

  Nate nodded, and Josh grinned at me, toothy and wide. They were always so certain I could fix anything. The truth was, I was trained to show a reassuring level of confidence, but most of the time I was as helpless as the next person. I was just better at hiding it.

  Nate continued in a faux-thundery voice: “ ‘The Great Spirit is angry with us,’ the chief said. He asked his wisest men, ‘What can we do to ease his anger?’ One stepped forward and said, ‘To stop the great sickness, one must sacrifice for all.’ ”

  This was the point where I always jumped in. “Nate, the nice version, please.”

  “The chief’s wife knew her daughter would die if she didn’t do something. So that night she followed the trail through the forest to the Great River until she reached the highest cliff. She looked at the rocks below and said to the Great Spirit, ‘Give me a sign that you’ll accept me as a sacrifice.’ ”

  Josh gazed at Nate in blue-eyed wonder, sucking loudly on his middle and pointer fingers. I should’ve made him stop before the habit affected his teeth but couldn’t bear to take away the last traces of babyhood. At five, he was already growing up too fast.

  “Just then, the moon rose over the trees, bright and yellow as a wedge of cheese. The chief’s wife knew it was the sign she’d asked for, so she closed her eyes and jumped—”

  “—and turned into a beautiful white bird,” I interrupted.

  “That’s right.” Nate nodded. “And her daughter was saved.”

  “And they all lived happily ever after.” Josh yawned sleepily.

  “Exactly.”

  Nate pulled the covers to Josh’s chin, and I kissed his forehead. He felt a little warm to me. He’d been suffering on and off with a cold the last few weeks.

  “Mommy, my throat hurts. Will you stay with me?”

  In my peripheral vision, I caught Nate rolling his eyes. He thought I was too permissive.

  “You need him as much as he needs you,” Nate had said once, not exactly in a nice way.

  Nate drew an X over his heart, then pointed at me before heading downstairs. It was our shorthand for I love you. I smiled.

  “Course I’ll stay.” I lay next to Josh so we were nose-to-nose. The sight of his innocent little face on the pillow beside me cracked my heart wide open. I loved him so much.

  Josh laced his fingers through mine, his tiny hands impossibly soft. “I wish we could get married when I grow up.”

  I smiled. Little boys loved their mamas so much. That love had changed me, made me a better person, a stronger person. “We have something even better than being married: we’re mommy and son. We share the same blood and the same DNA. That’s closer than friends or even mommies and daddies. We’re family forever.”

  He pondered that for a minute. “Would you turn into a bird for me?” he asked.

  I gazed into his sapphire eyes. He was so perfect. The best thing in my life. So when I answered, I was 100 percent truthful.

  “Of course,” I said. “I would do anything for you.”

  * * *

  DOWNSTAIRS, NATE was sprawled across the cou
ch, his floppy brown hair still wet from a shower. Charlie, our elderly basset hound, wagged his tail at me from his bed next to the fireplace. I stroked his long ears, splayed like wings. Around me, the living room walls and fireplace mantel were covered with photos that narrated the family life we’d built together.

  I handed Nate a bag of cookies. “I got you these on the way home.”

  “Snickerdoodles! My favorite.” He grabbed the bag and pulled me onto his lap, kissing me hard. “Thanks, babe. Want one?”

  I gave him a look. He knew I didn’t allow myself sugar.

  I leaned over Nate and wiped at a new stain on the arm of our dingy brown couch. “Ugh. When are we going to get rid of this thing?”

  “No sense wasting money on a new one,” Nate replied cheerfully.

  The seams were tattered, the fabric stained, but I was wasting my breath. Nate had bought the couch before we met and was strangely attached to it. He preferred easy and comfortable over new and nice. And he was right: we couldn’t afford a new one. Everything we owned was a little threadbare, a little shabby and overused.

  You’d think we’d be doing well financially. Nate earned a respectable government salary as a detective, and I was a doctor. I certainly thought I’d be doing better by now. But becoming a doctor wasn’t exactly cheap. Thank God we were able to rent our house from Nate’s mother. We couldn’t afford anything else.

  Nate folded me in his arms, and I laid my head against his chest. A blanket of warmth settled over me, loosening the knots in my shoulders. We didn’t have a fancy couch, but we had each other. That was what mattered.

  Nate munched a snickerdoodle, his eyes on the TV, where a reporter was speaking about two Seattle policemen who’d fabricated evidence in order to win a murder conviction.

  I waved at the TV. “Can you believe this?”

  Nate shrugged. The washed-denim pools of his eyes were layered: sunny on the surface with dark, distant shadows underneath. “They wanted to make sure justice was served. I get it.”

  I was a little surprised. I’d always thought of Nate as the upholder of all that was good and right in the world. He was one of the good guys.