by Lisa Gardner
Reluctantly, Sarah grabs her coat and a box–
SARAH
Grab a box. We’ll take my car.
HOLDER
Alright.
SARAH
(indicating a nearby box)
Over there.
As Sarah and Holder exit, boxes in tow, Holder shuts the door with his foot.
EXT. DOWNTOWN SEATTLE - AERIAL SHOT - DAY
Transition.
INT/EXT. SARAH’S CAR - DAY
Sarah drives, Holder yaks. Wipers flipping across the rain-soaked windshield. Squat factories – abandoned, graffii-marred – slide past their windows.
HOLDER
… They tapped me out of the Academy like first year, boom straight to
(MORE)
HOLDER (CONT’D)
undercover. So I was working vice, narco. I don’t know, I guess narco kinda stuck to me, so…
SARAH
(no shit)
You? A UC? I never woulda guessed.
Holder shoots her an amused look.
HOLDER
Whatever. It’s mostly like street level buys and busts, you know, Joaquim shooting Rakim, blah blah blah.
SARAH
You think Homicide’s gonna be any different?
HOLDER
Least you got a bad guy.
SARAH
Yeah? Who’s that?
Holder looks at her, waiting for more. No luck. They stop at a light.
On the sidewalk, a TEEN RUNAWAY – 16, male, filthy dreads, kindly face – slouches numbly against a monstrous duffel bag. Rain drizzling down.
Holder presses two fingers against the glass: “Peace”. The Teen Runaway lazily sticks up his middle finger: “Fuck you”.
Holder grins, gives him the finger back. As they pull away–
HOLDER
Is that why you running away, Linden? Cuz you don’t know no more?
She doesn’t even look at him. Off which–
EXT. SEATTLE - AERIAL SHOT FROM A DISTANCE - DAY
Transition.
EXT. DISCOVERY PARK - FIELD - DAY
Sarah drives down the fire road, pulling up to the scene. A scattering of UNIFORMS in a desolate field, woods in the near distance, lonely fire road. Rain abated for now.
Exiting their car, Sarah and Holder make there way to the scene and are approached by a young, UNIFORM in charge–
UNIFORM
Detective Linden…
SARAH
Where’s the body?
UNIFORM
Still lookin’. School kids on a field trip this mornin’ found this.
He hands a clear Evidence BAG to Sarah – inside a shimmery pink SWEATER. Torn, blood-smeared.
HOLDER
This park’s like Tweaker Central at nights. Ho-bags bringin’ their tricks down. Could be some basehead–
SARAH
(hands the evidence bag back to the Uni)
The owner’s not an addict. At least not the kind who hangs around here.
(off Holder’s look)
It’s a wool sweater. Looks recently cleaned.
HOLDER
Brought it to the coin wash, so what.
SARAH
You dry clean wool? Do you know any tweakers who drop their wardrobe off at the cleaners?
(to uniform) Anything else?
UNIFORM
This. ATM card.
He holds out a baggie: inside, a bank CARD. Imprinted on the front: “STANLEY LARSEN”. Holder takes it–
HOLDER
‘Stanley Larsen’. Guy loses his wallet while he’s gettin’ his knob polished?
ON Sarah as she steps away from Holder and the Uni, surveys the field – taking it in.
HOLDER (O.S.) (CONT’D)
(to Uni)
Anyway, keep lookin’. Search the field…
SARAH
(to Uni)
You find anything else, mark it, don’t move it. And call in Sex Crimes. This is theirs for now.
She heads to the car. Holder, surprised, follows–
HOLDER
Yo. We got here first.
SARAH
Yeah and we don’t got a body.
HOLDER
Not yet.
Sarah, impatient, checks her watch.
SARAH
You wanna follow it up, go for it.
HOLDER
You’re my ride, Linden.
SARAH
So, I’ll drop you off at the station, I need to finish packing up–
HOLDER
I thought you were done.
(off her look)
Flight’s not til nine, right? I won’t let you miss it. Promise.
Holder grins, walks ahead.
HOLDER (CONT’D)
Let’s have a talk with this Stanley Larsen.
Sarah clocks something on the back of his neck, peeking above his collar: a TATTOO. The top of an ornate CRUCIFIX. Sarah, curious, follows.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
LISA GARDNER is the New York Times bestselling author of The Perfect Husband, The Other Daughter, The Third Victim, The Next Accident, and The Survivors Club. She lives in New England with her husband and daughter, and two highly spoiled dogs and one incredibly pampered cat.
BANTAM BOOKS BY LISA GARDNER
The Perfect Husband
The Other Daughter
The Third Victim
The Next Accident
The Survivors Club
The Killing Hour
and coming soon
in hardcover
Alone
PRAISE FOR THE BESTSELLING
NOVELS OF LISA GARDNER
THE PERFECT HUSBAND
“A page-turner.” —The Rocky Mountain News
“A streamlined bang-up addition to the oeuvre of Tami Hoag, Karen Robards, Elizabeth Powell and, these days, even Nora Roberts.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Readers get loads of angst, great procedural stuff, some hair-raising action scenes, and a villain to keep you awake at night. What more can any thriller reader want?”
—Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine
“Scary, gritty, terrifying. Lock the door, leave on a light.” —The Oakland Press
“A chilling story of revenge and betrayal, with one of the creepiest villains I’ve ever read.”
—Iris Johansen
“An unforgettably evil villain and a throat-gripping climax make The Perfect Husband a real page-turner!” —Tess Gerritsen
“I loved this book! I was up till 2 A.M. finishing it!” —Karen Robards
“Nail-biting suspense . . . a taut rollercoaster of a story that kept me up very, very late.”
—Kay Hooper
THE KILLING HOUR
Main Selection of the Doubleday Book Club
Main Selection of the Literary Guild
“[A] high-octane page-turner . . . With tight plotting, an ear for forensic detail and a dash of romance, this is a truly satisfying sizzler in the tradition of Tess Gerritsen and Tami Hoag.” —Publishers Weekly, starred review
“Gardner keeps us guessing to the finale. She also keeps us on edge.” —Los Angeles Times
“Gardner ratchets up the tension by flashing back and forth between an abandoned victim struggling to stay alive and the feuding investigative agencies that would rather ponder a clue than launch a search. This, however, does leave room for Mac and Kimberly to shine—and shine they do.” —Orlando Sentinel
“Gardner’s latest has all the staples of a great suspense novel—plus love. The perfect book to read on a July night when it’s too hot to sleep.”
—Salt Lake City Deseret News
“Tightly controlled emotions spill into a furious search for a serial killer . . . The forensic detail is great, and Gardner works in some genuinely creepy moments, especially when she zeroes in on the victim struggling against horrific odds.” —Booklist
“This is the best book that Lisa Gardner has written. Considering her stella
r writing this is no mean feat. The breathtaking, heart-pounding suspense never lets up. Her characters are complex. Her narrative is extraordinary.” —Rendezvous
“The return of characters from earlier books makes this creepy and terrifying story all the more compelling. Gardner has firmly established herself as one of the hottest suspense talents around. Awesome!” —Romantic Times Bookclub
“A wickedly riveting novel.” —St. Petersburg Times
“Fast-paced suspense.” —Greensboro News & Record
“This intense book features a riveting plot, dynamic characters, and plenty of action. . . . Outstanding . . . Definitely an edge-of-your seat page turner. Don’t miss this one!” —Mystery News
“If this doesn’t throw a chill into your summer, check your pulse.” —The Ottawa Citizen
“Gardner hits a new height of suspense . . . virtually impossible to put down. A fabulous, satisfying read.” —Charleston Post and Courier
“Lisa Gardner gets better with every outing. . . . This book is perfect. . . . You’ll want to read it with the lights on.” —Winnipeg Free Press
THE SURVIVORS CLUB
“Showing a flair for lip-biting suspense, bestselling novelist Gardner combs out a tangled plot to an engrossing effect . . . Riveting action . . . This club is worth the dues.” —People, Beach Book of the Week
“Lisa Gardner’s Survivors Club is a high-octane, nerve-jangling tale of suspense.”
—Harlan Coben, author of Tell No One
“Hot dang, a new Lisa Gardner book! I love her hot, fast thrill rides. I’m always first in line to grab my copy of her newest release the day it arrives in stores. For my money, when it comes to suspense, nobody does it better.” —Jayne Ann Krentz
“A book seething with suspense and violence, one that will snatch your attention and attach your emotions to the characters.” —The State
“One cannot read this excellent new novel by bestselling author Gardner without wondering what actors might play these characters. . . . Rocks and rolls right up to a nail-biter ending.” —Publishers Weekly
“Her best effort yet in this dynamite tale . . . Readers are forewarned that they may be up all night finishing this masterfully crafted thriller.” —Booklist
“The Survivors Club has it all—provocative plotting, an astute eye for detail, engaging characters, and a razor-sharp emotional edge.” —Stephen White
“Will go in many a beach book bag this summer.” —Richmond Times-Dispatch
“Another surprise-filled, suspenseful yarn from the gifted Ms. Gardner.” —Denton Chronicle
“Lisa Gardner knows how to produce a hair-raising mystery thriller, and this offering is no exception. . . . Gardner keeps the reader guessing with twist after ingenious twist.” —Charleston Post and Courier
“There’s a whiff of The Silence of The Lambs in this gripping new crime novel. . . . A suspenseful page-turner.” —The Toronto Sun
“Cunning, terrifying . . . a suspenseful page turner.” —The Windsor Ontario Star
“Here’s a winner to keep you on the edge of your beach chair.” —River Falls Journal
“Another sure-fire winner . . . you’ll be flipping pages all night.” —Winnipeg Free Press
THE NEXT ACCIDENT
“A cool and accomplished psycho-killer tale.” —Kirkus Reviews
“Harrowing. A fiendishly well-choreographed dance of death.” —Booklist
“A suspense-laden, twist-filled tale.” —The Providence Journal-Bulletin
“The suspense is constant. . . . A satisfying novel.” —The Plain Dealer
“Suspense-filled and well-plotted . . . Gardner has another winner.” —Arlington News
THE THIRD VICTIM
“Riveting, hold-your-breath suspense!”
—Iris Johansen
“Gardner deftly probes the psychology of school shootings while developing a cast of complex, compelling characters. . . . A suspenseful, curl-up winter read, this thriller teems with crisp, realistic dialogue and engaging characters.”
—Publishers Weekly, starred review
“An extraordinary book . . . Gardner’s writing skills are beautifully showcased in this novel. Deftly, she has crafted multi-dimensional characters. . . . Their emotions are well expressed in crisp, pertinent dialogue and the tensions are sustained at many different levels with seemingly effortless ease. Scenes shift, points of view shift, the pace varies; all to perfection.” —The Romance Reader
“[A] heart-stopping novel, a story to get under your skin and haunt you. The action and the tension never let up from first page to last. As timely as today’s headlines, this is a one-of-a-kind book.”
—Romantic Times Magazine
THE OTHER DAUGHTER
“Once again, Gardner serves up suspense at a furious pace.” —Publishers Weekly
“[A] suspenseful, engrossing page-turner . . . Totally absorbing, it’s one of those books that keeps you up late, enslaved by the ‘just one more chapter’ syndrome.” —Mystery News
“Sheer terror . . . a great read.” —Iris Johansen
Dear Reader,
I hope you loved THE PERFECT HUSBAND, and now I’d like to share with you a sneak peek at my next novel, ALONE. I’m very excited to be working on such a dark, twisted tale, this one featuring a homicidal cop, a manipulative widow, a vengeful father, and a happy-go-lucky psychopath. I like to think that it’s psychological suspense at its finest, where the person you love the most should be the person you trust the least. . . .
Read on for a thrilling preview of Lisa Gardner’s
latest novel of suspense, ALONE,
coming in hardcover from
Bantam Books in January 2005!
ALONE
ON SALE JANUARY 2005
CHAPTER ONE
HE’D PUT IN a fifteen-hour shift the night the call came in. Too many impatient drivers on 93, leading to too much crash, bang, boom. City was like that this time of year. The trees were bare, night coming on quick and the holidays looming. It felt raw outside. After the easy camaraderie of summer barbecues, now you walked alone through city streets hearing nothing but the skeletal rattle of dry leaves skittering across cold pavement.
Lots of cops complained about the short, gray days of February, but personally, Bobby Dodge had never cared for November. Today did nothing to change his mind.
His shift started with a minor fender bender, followed by two more rear-enders from northbound gawkers. Four hours of paperwork later, he thought he’d gotten through the worst of it. Then, in early afternoon, when traffic should’ve been a breeze even on the notoriously jam-packed 93, came a five-car pileup as a speeding taxi driver tried to change four lanes at once, and a stressed-out ad exec in a Hummer forcefully cut him off. The Hummer took the hit like a heavyweight champ; the rusted-out cab went down for the count and took out three other cars with it. Bobby got to call four wreckers, then diagram the accident, and then arrest the ad exec when it became apparent the man had mixed in a few martinis with his power lunch.
Pinching a man for driving under the influence meant more paperwork, a trip to the South Boston barracks (now in the middle of rush hour traffic, when no one respected anyone’s right-of-way, let alone a trooper’s), and another altercation with the rich ad exec when he balked at entering the holding cell.
The ad exec had a good fifty pounds on Bobby. Like a lot of guys confronted by a smaller opponent, he confused superior weight with superior strength and ignored the warning signs telling him otherwise. The man grabbed the doorjamb with his right hand. He swung his lumbering body backward, expecting to bowl over his smaller escort and what? Make a run for it through a police barracks filled with armed troopers? Bobby ducked left, stuck out his foot, and watched the overweight executive slam to the floor. The man landed with an impressive crash and a few troopers paused long enough to clap their hands at the free show.
“I’m going to fucking sue!” the drunken ad exec screamed. “I’m
going to sue you, your commanding officer, and the whole fucking state of Massachusetts. I’ll own this joint. You hear me? I’ll fucking own your ass!”
Bobby jerked the big guy to his feet. Rich exec screamed a fresh round of obscenities, possibly because of the way Bobby was pinching the man’s thumb. Bobby shoved the man into the holding cell and slammed the door.
“If you’re gonna puke, please use the toilet,” Bobby informed him, because by now the man had turned a little green. The rich executive flipped him off. Then he doubled-over and vomited on the floor.
Bobby shook his head. “Rich prick,” he muttered.
Some days were like that, particularly in November.
Now it was shortly after ten p.m. The rich ad exec had been bailed out by his overpriced lawyer, the holding cell was washed down, and Bobby’s shift, which had started at seven a.m., was finally done. He should go home. Give Susan a buzz. Catch some sleep before his alarm went off at five, and the whole joyous process started once more.
Instead he was jittery in a way that surprised himself. Too much adrenaline buzzing in his veins, when he was a man best known for being cool, calm, and collected.
Bobby didn’t go home. Instead he traded in his blues for jeans and a flannel shirt, then headed for the local bar.