But trust us, its chilling).
Check out what Harrison has to say about the trailer and her book below.
Harrison tells EW:
Growing up, I often heard that girls werent supposed to be into scary stuff.
The book makes you ask, Whats real?, and so does the trailer.
I was super creeped out watching it for the first time, and I hope you are, too.
At last the long-distance call rings through.
A womans voice, almost as deep as a mans, snaps, Hello?
Blood thunders in my ears.
I dont know if I can do this.
Shes about to slam down the phone.
I use a voice Ive practiced, a little lower than my own.
Can I help you?
Maybe go and stay with relatives.
Someone could be watching your house, and I think he means you harm.
I memorized the wording, ominous yet vague.
A couple seconds of silence.
When Mrs. Gustafsson comes back, her voice drips suspicion.
Whom I speaking to here?
I cant tell you, I say.
c’mon listen to me.
He could be there as soon as Friday.
You got an out-of-town number.
What do you know about my neighborhood?
Are you one of Abbys girls?
I shouldve used a burner phone.
The receiver feels like it weighs twenty pounds as I hang up.
Im probably on the security footage.
My hairs moist with sweat under the ski hat, my bulky sweatshirt sticking to me.
My eyes are wet, too.
I should have said more, but what?
She doesnt believe me.
She wont take precautions.
I know its going to happen, and I cant stop it.
He calls himself the Thief in the Night.
He likes to think hes invisible.
Thats why he doesnt talk, doesnt torture, doesnt interact with them until he has to.
They are his victims.
He calls them targets.
First came the old man.
Then the homeless guy.
The lady who ran the campground.
The woman in the honky-tonk parking lot.
And now this couple in upstate New York, the Gustafssons.
He found them two Mondays ago when he was in Schenectady for a scale-model conference.
He shouldve pinched a couple Ambien from his girlfriend back in Albuquerque, but it was too late now.
He hadnt brought any tools, so everything stayed theoretical.
As always, his senses (my senses) heightened as he set the scene.
A kids punch would push the poor bastard over.
In a few years, a coronary might get him.
When the Thief came back for the couple, hed simply speed nature along.
Hed swing back here after the second leg of his trip and chauffeur them to their resting place.
Now he realized it was a good place.
Like reality, hes always here, whether they know it or not.
The garage with a window cracked open; the car sitting inside, unlocked.
(He knows how rarely people lock anything.)
And the mood wasnt quite right.
Maybe he wont come back.
Just a few more pills wouldnt hurt me too much, would they?
One more sleepless night?
Thinking about Warren makes me clench up inside.
I can already hear the disappointed flinch in his voice as he realizes Ive relapsed.
Warrens liked me since before the pills.
No longer would I sleep, blissfully unaware, while predators roamed the world.
I would be likehimnocturnal.
There were downsides to scoring a victory over my natural sleep patterns.
That didnt stop me from wanting stronger uppers than I could get over the counter.
His brothers can get him anything.
I didnt believe it at first.
Warrens brothers are bad news, but him dealing drugs?
Warren hadnt changed much after two years.
He hid it by bending to adjust his books.
Addy Doucette sent you, huh?
Got a big test coming up?
I was blushing by then, too.
Are you sure you want to get into that shit, Nina?
His eyes looked watery, like I was causing an allergic reaction.
Youre a great salesman, I said.
His long face had filled out since middle school, with cheeks to balance the cheekbones.
Meet me in the cedars behind the soccer field, he said.
How many secrets, she still has no clue.
But I dont feel like seeing Warrens disappointment right now.
And so I gulp coffee and make a run at murder sleep.
When I read that line about murdering sleep inMacbethduring freshman English, I thought, God, if only.
Then I realized that Shakespeare means Macbeths guilty conscience is keeping him awake.
Some people have no conscience, though.
And I, for one, would rather do anything than sleep.
Anyone could surprise me now.
When I do text Warren, during third period, I have a new plan.
And a jumbo travel mug of crappy cafeteria coffee.
We meet after school in the cedars on the edge of the soccer field.
Nina, he says, his eyes going to pained slits.
Do you think Im going to hurt myself?
You watch too many PSAs.
But he still looks doubtful.
Look, if youre worried about something or somebodymaybe I could help?
Its hard to see Warren as tough when I still remember him as a shoelace in a camo jacket.
He needs someone simple and wholesome.
Like the heroine of a murder ballad.
Warren deserves better than that kind of drama.
Maybe he wants to save me.
Life in this town is so freaking boring, and Warrens a mystery and true-crime nut.
He must be desperate for thrills; I have more than I can handle.
I could give him a few.
he asks, eyes narrow again.
No, I say.
Im going to drive to Schenectady to catch an interstate serial killer.
He doesnt edge away like Im crazygood.
In my secret life, Im the youngest-ever FBI profiler, I go on.
I need to check out a tip on an unsub.
The FBI didnt give you a piece?
They say Im too young to pack heat.
Warren makes his index finger into a gun, fires it, blows off the smoke.
A dame like you is never too young.
I grin in spite of myself.
So can you get me one?
What makes you think I know about guns, Nina Barrows?
You live off the grid, I say, counting reasons on my fingers.
You bring venison jerky to school.
Your dad writes letters to the paper about preserving our Second Amendment rights.
Labels that fit our parents better than us, but dont really fit anyone.
He says, News flash: venison is a sustainable protein.
If the apocalypse happens, youll be lucky to have a hunter on your side.
And my dad and I are two different people.
So you hate guns.
So you like guns.
You use them to get sustainable protein, right?
My boy-relating skills suck.
Jocks, preppies, cute hipsters, bad boysI can barely meet their eyes.
Im suretheycould get me a gun, no questions asked.
Warrens still the boy who invites the unpopular girls to dance.
Who doesnt ask the weird girl too many questions when she tells him weird things.
Who might help her.
Kayla leads the pep squad.
Bouncy ponytail, bouncy C-cups.
Ouch, I say.
Hey, I didnt mean it in a bad way.
He looks genuinely apologetic, and I feel a stab of something I cant identify.
Whats wrong with him?
Your best bet is Tims General Store on Route Twelve.
Ill still need to learn to use it.
For the Thief in the Night, using guns is automatic, not worthy of concentration.
Youve never touched a firearm, have you?
Youre such a tree hugger, I bet youve never even shot somebody in a video game.
I dont feel like playing our game right now.
Can you help me, or cant you?
If you come by our place Friday afternoon, Ill take you to the range.
Show you the stance, give you pointers.
Wouldnt want you to shoot any innocent bystanders.
The Witter place is creepy.
It stretches up a hill and down into a long ravine, full of primo body-dumping sites.
(Could she, just maybe, think its hot that I know about guns?
If I help her with her stance, will we end up touching?
Like, a lot?)
If he were a killer, he wouldnt wonder or guess.
He wouldnt care what I thought or felt.
My story would be his to write.
Youll have to drive, I say.
Meet me here at three.
