“You know, somewhere Katie is pretty effing proud of you right now,” Duane said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. And so am I.”
“Thanks, Duane,” Frost told him.
His brother saluted. He gave Shack a salute, too. The cat was on the white tile of the foyer beside Frost. Duane looked down and chuckled as he walked across Herb’s Lion King painting, and he gave them a backward wave. “Hakuna matata, bro!”
Frost waited until Duane disappeared, and then he closed the door. He was tired. The house felt lonely and silent. He stood in the darkness for a moment before he turned away. Shack scooted to the kitchen to see if Duane had left anything on a plate for him, which he probably had. Frost was almost back outside to the patio when he heard a soft rapping on the front door behind him.
Surprised, he returned to the foyer and pulled the door open. Tabby stood on the porch, in the pool of the brass light.
“Duane’s in the car,” she said.
“Okay.”
“I said I forgot something.”
He stared at her. “Okay.”
“I need to ask you something,” she said, “and I need you to be honest with me.”
Somewhere in his chest, his heart began to beat again. It had been stopped for years. “What is it?”
She had the look of someone standing at a rope bridge, trying to decide if it was safe to cross. He could have told her that those bridges were always dangerous.
“Do you and I have a big problem, Frost?” Tabby asked.
He realized that he was conscious of every detail about her as she stood in front of him. He could have told her how many strands of red hair had fallen across her face. He could have told her that he hadn’t stopped seeing her green eyes since he met her. He could have told her that her lips, still slightly parted with the question they’d asked, made him think of nothing but kissing her.
He didn’t want to lie. She’d told him to be honest. But lying was the only choice.
“No,” he said. “No problem at all.”
Tabby didn’t ask if he was sure. She didn’t say whether she believed him. She bit her lip, then simply turned away and practically ran down the steps away from him. He tried to guess what she was feeling now. Part of him hoped it was disappointment, but it was probably relief. Nothing else was safe.
Frost closed the door again. He closed his eyes, too, as the weight of irony landed on his head.
For the first time in his life, he knew who his Jane Doe was.
Damn.
FROM THE AUTHOR
Thanks for reading the latest Frost Easton novel. If you like this novel, be sure to check out all my other thrillers, too.
You can write to me with your feedback at [email protected]. I love to get e-mails from readers around the world, and yes, I reply personally. Visit my website at www.bfreemanbooks.com to join my mailing list, get book-club discussion questions, and find out more about me and my books.
You can “like” my official fan page on Facebook at www.facebook.com/bfreemanfans or follow me on Twitter or Instagram using the handle bfreemanbooks.
For a look at the fun side of the author’s life, you can also “like” the Facebook page of my wife, Marcia, at www.facebook.com/theauthorswife.
Finally, if you enjoy my books, please post your reviews online at Goodreads, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and other sites for book lovers—and spread the word to your reader friends. Thanks!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The first draft of a new novel may be a solitary endeavor for a writer, but after that, the process is a team effort involving many talented people. This book wouldn’t be in your hands without some amazing editors, designers, marketers, and publicists.
I am fortunate to work with one of the best teams in publishing, namely, the people at Thomas & Mercer. Jessica Tribble worked with me on this book from the initial concept all the way through the editorial work and the entire production effort. Charlotte Herscher was invaluable in offering editorial guidance, just as she did on the first Frost Easton book, The Night Bird. Laura Petrella did another awesome job as copyeditor; she never misses a thing. I’m grateful to them and to everyone at T&M for their hard work and expertise—and for making me feel like a part of their publishing family.
Before a book even goes to the publisher, I get intensive feedback from my wife, Marcia, and my writing and editorial colleague Ann Sullivan. And by “intensive feedback,” I mean they tell me in loving, generous detail everything I’ve done wrong. For which I’m thankful. Really. This book would not be what it is today without their superb insights.
My agent in New York, Deborah Schneider, makes all of this possible. She and I have been working together for fourteen years now, through all the many changes in this business. She is an extraordinary ally and advocate.
One last note. Many readers know from meeting us and interacting with us online that Marcia and I have a unique partnership in approaching the writer’s life. She’s part of everything I do, and I truly couldn’t do any of it without her. That’s why every book begins with the same two words: For Marcia.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2009 Martin Hoffsten
Brian Freeman is a bestselling author of psychological thrillers, including the Jonathan Stride and Cab Bolton series. His works have been sold in forty-six countries and translated into twenty-two languages. His book Spilled Blood was named Best Hardcover Novel in the International Thriller Writers Awards, and The Burying Place was a finalist for the same honor. His debut thriller, Immoral, won the Macavity Award and was a finalist for the Edgar, Dagger, Anthony, and Barry awards for Best First Novel. His novels Season of Fear and The Bone House were both finalists for the Audie Award for best audiobook in the thriller/suspense category. He is also the author of The Night Bird, the first book in the Frost Easton series.
Brian lives in Minnesota with his wife, Marcia. For more information on the author and his work, visit www.bfreemanbooks.com.
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