Synopsis:

Two cases have pushed San Francisco detective Lindsay Boxer beyond her limits. In the first, a terrible fire in a wealthy home has left a married couple dead and Lindsay and her partner, Rich Conklin, searching for clues. At the same time, Michael Campion, the son of California's ex-governor with a reputation for partying, has been missing for a month. When there finally seems to be a lead in his case, it is a devastating one. And the combined pressure from the press and the brass is overwhelming.

Assistant District Attorney Yuki Castellano plunges into the biggest case of her life to get to the bottom of Michael Campion's disappearance. As fire after fire consumes couples in expensive neighborhoods, Lindsay and her friends in the Women's Murder Club race to find the arsonists responsible. But suddenly the fires are raging too close to home. Frightened for her life and torn between two men, Lindsay confronts the most daunting dilemmas she's ever faced — in a thriller with unexpected twists and emotional extremes of the kind only James Patterson — "the man who can't miss" — can deliver.

Book Excerpt:

Prologue | THE CHRISTMAS SONG

 

TINY LIGHTS WINKED on the Douglas fir standing tall and full in front of the picture window. Swags of Christmas greenery and dozens of cards decked the well-appointed living room, and apple logs crackled in the fireplace, scenting the air as they burned.

A digitized Bing Crosby crooned "The Christmas Song."

"Chestnuts roasting on an open fire. Jack Frost nipping at your nose . . ."

Henry Jablonsky couldn't see the boys clearly. The one called Hawk had snatched off his glasses and put them a mile away on the fireplace mantel, a good thing, Jablonsky had reasoned at the time.

It meant that the boys didn't want to be identified, that they were planning to let them go. Please, God, please let us live and I'll serve you all the days of my life.

Jablonsky watched the two shapes moving around the tree, knew that the gun was in Hawk's waistband. He heard wrapping paper tear, saw the one called Pidge dangling a bow for the new kitten.

They'd said they weren't going to hurt them.

They said this was only a robbery.

Jablonsky had memorized their faces well enough to describe to a police sketch artist, which he would be doing as soon as they got the hell out of his home.

Both boys looked as though they'd stepped from the pages of a Ralph Lauren ad.

Hawk. Clean-cut. Well-spoken. Blond, with side-parted hair. Pidge, bigger. Probably six two. Long brown hair. Strong as a horse. Meaty hands. Ivy League types. Both of them.

Maybe there really was some goodness in them.

As Jablonsky watched, the blond one, Hawk, walked over to the bookshelf, dragged his long fingers across the spines of the books, calling out titles, his voice warm, as though he were a friend of the family.

He said to Henry Jablonsky, "Wow, Mr. J., you've got Fahrenheit 451. This is a classic."

Hawk pulled the book from the shelf, opened it to the first page. Then he stooped down to where Jablonsky was hogtied on the floor with a sock in his mouth.

"You can't beat Bradbury for an opening," Hawk said. And then he read aloud with a clear, dramatic voice.

"'It was a pleasure to burn. It was a special pleasure to see things eaten, to see things blackened and changed.'"

As Hawk read, Pidge hauled a large package out from under the tree. It was wrapped in gold foil, tied with gold ribbon. Something Peggy had always wanted and had waited for, for years.

"To Peggy, from Santa," Pidge read from the gift tag. He sliced through the wrappings with a knife.

He had a knife!

Pidge opened the box, peeled back the layers of tissue.

"A Birkin bag, Peggy. Santa brought you a nine-thousand-dollar purse! I'd call that a no, Peg. A definite no."

Pidge reached for another wrapped gift, shook the box, while Hawk turned his attention to Peggy Jablonsky. Peggy pleaded with Hawk, her actual words muffled by the wad of sock in her mouth. It broke Henry's heavy heart to see how hard she tried to communicate with her eyes.

Hawk reached out and stroked Peggy's baby-blond hair, then patted her damp cheek. "We're going to open all your presents now, Mrs. J. Yours too, Mr. J.," he said. "Then we'll decide if we're going to let you live."

Write a Review »

Topics/Categories:

Detective Fiction, Female Detective, Womens Murder Club

Genre:

Detective Fiction, Mystery - Thriller

Type of Work:

Book

Publishers:

Hachette Book Group USA

Purchase From:

Barnes & Noble

Original Publish Date:

2008-02-01

ISBNs:

ISBN-13: 9780316017701

Formats:

Paperback