“The Clinic drew me in from its tense first page and left me think- ing long after I finished it. It’s a twisty mystery with feeling that kept me turning the pages until well into the night.”
– Sara Ochs, author of The Resort

“Cate Quinn’s propulsive thriller The Clinic reads like an edge- of-your-seat page-turner, with clever twists and turns and redirec- tions, all while taking place at an unconventional rehab clinic in the wilds of the Pacific Northwest coast. But at its core, this is a haunting story of addiction, long-lasting trauma, and the power of transformative change—I absolutely loved it.”
– Ashley Tate, author of Twenty-Seven Minutes

“With relentless writing and twists around every corner, Cate Quinn weaves a gripping mystery through the world of luxury rehab that will have you saying ‘one more chapter’ until you hit the final page. So be warned: once you step foot in The Clinic, the doors lock behind you.”
– Tony Wirt, author of Just Stay Away

The clinic was usually loud at night. Addicts, detoxing, shouting. But this part was quiet, the disinfectant smell less pervasive.

No one had said rehab would be easy. But Haley hadn’t counted on it being this hard. Her agent had painted it as a vacation. A break from the drugs before returning to the recording studio and celebrity parties. They hadn’t mentioned how Haley would have to perform an Oscar-worthy set of panic attacks and tearful break- downs to avoid therapy getting personal. Because Haley couldn’t go there. She really couldn’t. At twenty-seven she had enough bad memories to last a lifetime.

That was why she was padding barefoot along the squeaky, bleached floor of this dark corridor at night, headed for the medical store. And here it was. Haley’s painted toes came to a halt outside.

Rehab went on and on about not trusting addicts and keeping everything locked away. But a security system is only as effective as the people who run it, and with her trademark charm, Haley had needed barely a minute to win over the guard. Sometimes she was so good she impressed herself.

The door was plain. Unmarked. Electronic key code. Stupid. All that plate glass and double locks for the daily pharmacy, and…