Take that, Mother.
Jimmy was waiting for her at the end of the driveway in the BMW he’d rented. She climbed into the passenger seat and gave him a big, sloppy kiss. “I’m free!”
“Good.” He sped much too fast out of the neighborhood, but Martha didn’t care. She was free. Free, free, free! She should have done this a long time ago. She’d thought having a kid would be a lot more fun than it actually was. It wasn’t like she’d planned to get pregnant, it just happened. Maybe it was just that kid. Maybe another wouldn’t be so bad, a kid with Jimmy. And they could raise her—or him—to have fun.
Maxine was a kid and Martha gave her all the freedom she’d never had growing up. They traveled everywhere, all over the world! Maxine didn’t even have to go to school. Martha had wanted to see the world when she was young enough to appreciate it, and she’d taken Maxine along for the ride. They’d been to every major museum in Europe and the States; they’d stayed in the nicest hotels and once spent the entire summer at a villa in France.
And all the little brat could do was make Martha feel inadequate.
“Where are we going?” she asked Jimmy.
“We have three days before we can go to the bank, but we have enough to get by until then. It’s dreary here. Let’s drive south. We have a lot of plans to make. A lot of plans. We’re going to have fun, Martha. A Hawaiian adventure.”
She laughed and rubbed Jimmy’s thigh. Finally, she had her life back. The life she’d been searching for ever since she walked out of the house after her high school graduation, when she finally had partial control over her trust fund and an increase in her monthly allowance. And there was nothing that her parents could do about it because the trust was iron-clad.
Any residual guilt Martha had over leaving her daughter disappeared at the Atherton town limits. After all, she deserved a life, too.
CHAPTER ONE
Present Day
Maxine Revere had been an investigative reporter, in one capacity or another, for more than a decade. In the beginning, she had been the sole collector of information. She’d spent thousands of hours in libraries, interviewed hundreds of people, and traveled across the country to collect key pieces of intelligence to solve cold cases.
Now that she had a monthly cable crime show, had written four true crime books, and recently published her seventy-sixth article in a major trade magazine, she enjoyed the benefits of her success: a staff that was as good at research—and sometimes better—than she was; an assistant both smart and disciplined; and a real career that had garnered her both respect and animosity, praise and criticism.
She liked her job and she made a difference. Max solved cold cases that seemed unsolvable because of the limited resources of law enforcement. That, and her driving need to uncover the truth wherever it led.
Now, for the first time, she had a real chance of learning the truth about what had happened to her mother sixteen years ago. She might even find out why her mother left her in the first place to be raised by grandparents she had never known before that fateful Thanksgiving, only weeks before her tenth birthday.
The disappearance of her mother was personal, and she wasn’t going to film a segment for “Maximum Exposure.” She had no plans to write a book, an article, or even a blog about Martha Revere’s life and presumed death. Max had the resources—namely, money—to investigate this case on her own, and could take the time to do it, even if it cost Max her career.
Some things were worth sacrificing everything. The truth—especially the truth about her life—was one of them.
Two months ago, she’d learned from a private investigator, Sean Rogan, that her mother had bought a car in Miami under a false identity, and that car had turned up abandoned in Northampton County, Virginia, three months later. Max hired the PI to dig deeper into the identity and the timeline of Martha Revere’s whereabouts from when she left Max at her grandparents’ house that Thanksgiving weekend, until she stopped sending Max postcards shortly after Max’s sixteenth birthday.
It was difficult and tedious work for many reasons, the passage of time being an almost insurmountable factor. Martha left Max twenty-two years ago. All Max had—she’d turned copies over to Rogan—were sixteen postcards sent over a six-year period. Financial records were archived and not readily accessible. Someone with one false identity may have additional false identities. And the one thing that Max had learned after living with her mother for the first ten years of her life—Martha Revere was smart, unpredictable, and wild.
Rogan had made great headway, but he had a life and a business and had been unavailable for the last few weeks due to a major case he was working on. Max was antsy. She needed to get into the field and learn the truth. She already knew where Martha’s car had been found, the name she had been using—that of her elderly aunt. She had basic information that Rogan had dug up, enough that she could go to Northampton herself and find more answers. And she’d filmed two shows for “Maximum Exposure” in the time it usually took her to do one—just in case the investigation took longer than she planned.
Her producer, Ben Lawson, wasn’t happy that she was taking time off with no set return date. She recognized if she were any other person, she’d be fired or her series canceled. And maybe it would be. At this point, she didn’t care. For the first time in her life, she had a hint about what happened to her mother, and enough clues to follow the bread crumbs. This was more important than anything else in her life. It was more important than her fledgling love life, more important than her career, more important than her family, who didn’t want her digging into the past at all.
This was the most important investigation she’d ever undertaken.
On Saturday morning, she emailed Rogan and told him she was taking the information he’d gathered and would be leaving the following morning for Cape Haven, a small community in Northampton County. She had reserved a small beach house at a resort for the entire month of April, and she’d stay longer if necessary. She hadn’t heard back from the PI, so she assumed he didn’t have anything new to share with her.
She packed Saturday evening, then poured herself a glass of wine and made herself a chef’s salad. She lived in a penthouse in Greenwich Village with a view of the Hudson River. She bought the place after she graduated from Columbia and renovated it to suit her needs and lifestyle. She had no plans to move. She traveled extensively, but this was her home. Maybe because she hadn’t had a real home growing up. First, living like a nomad with her mother for nearly ten years, then living with her grandparents for the next nine years in their subdued mansion in a prestigious northern California zip code. Nothing had been hers. But this penthouse was all Max. Her space. A place for her things.
She didn’t have much—not because she was a minimalist, but because she didn’t see the need to accumulate stuff for the sake of having stuff. But she cherished what she did have. Art she bought because she liked it, not because it was valuable—though much of it was. Furniture that was both comfortable and aesthetically pleasing. A kitchen of state-of-the-art appliances, because she loved to cook when she had the time. An entire wall devoted to books because she loved reading. It was an eclectic collection. History, especially books that discussed how history was reflected in the art of the times; architecture because that, too, touched on both art and history; mysteries—give her a good puzzle to lose herself in, and she was happy for the night. Some books she felt she had to read because everyone else had read them. And many, many classics. And she’d always had a fondness for Louis L’Amour, because her grandfather had loved the writer of Westerns. When she bought the penthouse her grandmother had sent her his entire collection with a note from her grandfather, who had died a few years before:
Dearest Maxine,
I used to believe you indulged me when I would read you passages from some of my favorite L’Amour books, but you always listened and humored this old man. One day, I saw you reading The Sacketts by the fire, and realized you weren’t simpl
y appeasing me; you enjoyed the stories as much as I did. I hope you have room for my collection in your new home; there is no one else I would want to have them.
With love,
Grandfather
He’d died when she was fifteen, long before she bought the penthouse. Her grandmother never told her about the collection, so when she received them as she was settling in to her home she was touched. Reading her grandfather’s letter, written before he passed, had been bittersweet.
She finished her salad, washed her plate, and poured a second glass of wine. She sat in her reading corner and reviewed her schedule for the week. She’d already set up an appointment with the sheriff of Northampton County to talk to him about the investigation into the disappearance of “D. Jane Sterling,” the owner of the car that Max was certain belonged to her mother.
Still, now that she had made the decision and planned to leave tomorrow morning, she’d become apprehensive. Her assistant, David Kane, would say that it was because she was scared.
“You have always lived in the shadow of your mother’s choices,” David had told her when she began to pursue the information Rogan uncovered two months ago. “That the truth is so close terrifies you.”
“I’ve never shied away from the truth.” His observations made Max more than a little irritated at him.
“While I’ll admit that Rogan is unusually gifted in his field, you certainly could have found or paid to find the same information he did.”
That was true, and it was something Max had been thinking about a lot since she hired Rogan to dig deeper.
“I’m putting it out there, Max. You have never backed down from a challenge—but with your mother’s disappearance, you’ve never confronted it.”
Max trusted David more than anyone else in her life, and when he’d called her on her hypocrisy, she realized that he was right. First her mother lied to Max about her paternity, all the while leading a wild and carefree lifestyle before dumping her to live with her grandparents; then Martha disappeared off the face of the earth when Max was sixteen. Every decision her mother had made, both before and after that fateful Thanksgiving, had colored Max’s life and every choice she made. She’d never lied to herself about any of it, because Max abhorred lies—especially to herself. But until David called her out, she didn’t realize the deep truth: she was scared. She feared learning the whole truth about her mother because it would de facto change who Max was and how she viewed herself in the world.
Not knowing had driven her for years, and once the truth came to light, what would she do? Who would she be?
Fear was no excuse. Now, there was no turning back.
Also by Allison Brennan
Too Far Gone
Abandoned
Breaking Point
Shattered
Make Them Pay
The Lost Girls
Poisonous
No Good Deed
Best Laid Plans
Compulsion
Dead Heat
Notorious
Cold Snap
Stolen
Stalked
Silenced
If I Should Die
Kiss Me, Kill Me
Love Me to Death
Carnal Sin
Original Sin
Cutting Edge
Fatal Secrets
Sudden Death
Playing Dead
Tempting Evil
Killing Fear
Fear No Evil
See No Evil
Speak No Evil
The Kill
The Hunt
The Prey
Praise for these other novels by New York Times bestselling author Allison Brennan
“If you haven’t been reading Brennan’s truly exceptional Lucy Kincaid/Sean Rogan series, then you have been missing out … In this mind-blowing installment, Brennan also gives readers a fascinating look into the mind-set of her epic villains. A chilling thrill-fest from beginning to end.”
—RT Book Reviews (4½ stars, a Top Pick!) on No Good Deed
“Allison Brennan reaches new heights in Poisonous, and this smart, sophisticated entry in the Maxine Revere series raises her to the level of Lisa Gardner and Harlan Coben.”
—Providence Journal
“A fast-paced, suspenseful read with interesting characters and sinister twists that keep you turning the pages for more.”
—Karin Slaughter
“Allison Brennan’s Poisonous has it all … A twisty and compelling read.”
—Lisa Unger
“Don’t miss Max Revere’s roller-coaster new thriller. Talk about grit and courage, Max never gives up.”
—Catherine Coulter on Compulsion
“Packs in the thrills as investigative reporter Max confronts new murders and old family secrets in a suspense novel guaranteed to keep you up late at night!”
—Lisa Gardner on Notorious
“Amazing … The interconnectivity of Brennan’s books allows her ensemble of characters to evolve, adding a rich flavor to the intense suspense.”
—RT Book Reviews (4½ stars, Top Pick!) on Best Laid Plans
“Gut-wrenching and chilling, this is a story you won’t soon forget!”
—RT Book Reviews (4½ stars) on Dead Heat
“All the excitement and suspense I have come to expect from Allison Brennan.”
—Fresh Fiction on Stolen
“Once again Brennan weaves a complex tale of murder, vengeance and treachery filled with knife-edged tension and clever twists. The Lucy Kincaid/Sean Rogan novels just keep getting better!”
—RT Book Reviews (4½ stars, Top Pick) on Stalked
“Brennan throws a lot of story lines into the air and juggles them like a master. The mystery proves to be both compelling and complex … [A] chilling and twisty romantic suspense gem.”
—Associated Press on Silenced
“The evolution of Lucy Kincaid from former victim to instinctive and talented agent continues in Brennan’s new heart-stopping thriller … From first to last, this story grabs hold and never lets go.”
—RT Book Reviews (Top Pick) on Silenced
“Explosive suspense ratchets up with every turn of the page … will leave people clamoring for more stories of Max Revere. I know I will be!”
—James Rollins on Notorious
“Brennan introduces readers to a new and fascinating heroine worth rooting for. She’s an investigative reporter who’s not afraid to kick butt, climb a tree, or go to jail in pursuit of her story. She’s savvy and smart and takes no prisoners. Buckle up and brace yourself for Maxine Revere.”
—Sandra Brown on Notorious
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALLISON BRENNAN is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of over thirty novels. Most recently, she was nominated for Best Paperback Original Thriller by International Thriller Writers and the Daphne du Maurier Award by Kiss of Death. A former consultant in the California State Legislature, Allison lives in Northern California with her husband, five kids, and assorted pets.
Visit her website at: www.allisonbrennan.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
C
hapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Excerpt: Abandoned
Also by Allison Brennan
Praise for these other novels by New York Times bestselling author Allison Brennan
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
NOTHING TO HIDE
Copyright © 2019 by Allison Brennan.
Excerpt from Abandoned copyright © 2018 by Allison Brennan.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
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eISBN: 9781250297648
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St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / May 2019
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