Gone: An FBI Profiler Novel
From the bestselling writer of Alone and The Killing Hour comes a mystery that is going from heartbreaking to heartstopping within the blink of an eye.…
When anyone you like vanishes with no hint, how a long way may you visit get them back?
For ex-FBI profiler Pierce Quincy, it’s the start of his worst nightmare: a vehicle deserted on a desolate stretch of Oregon street, engine working, handbag on the driver’s seat. And his estranged spouse, Rainie Conner, long gone, leaving no clue to her fate.
Did one of many ghosts from Rainie’s afflicted previous ultimately meet up with her? Or may possibly her disappearance be the results of one of many situations they’d been operating– a very vicious double murder or the potential abuse of a deeply disturbed baby Rainie took too with reference to heart? with his daughter, FBI agent Kimberly Quincy, Pierce is combating the neighborhood professionals, racing opposed to time, and frantically looking for solutions to the entire questions he’s been afraid to ask.
One guy is aware what occurred that evening. Adopting the alias of a killer stuck 80 years prior to, he has already contacted the clicking. His phrases are transparent: he wishes cash, he desires energy, he wishes big name. And if he doesn’t get what he desires, Rainie can be long past for good.
Sometimes, irrespective of how a lot you're keen on a person, it’s nonetheless now not enough.
As the clock winds down on a terrifying closing date, Pierce plunges headlong into the main determined hunt of his lifestyles, into the shattering look for a killer, a lethal truth, and for the affection of his lifestyles, who might without end be…gone.
From the Hardcover edition.
Eyes vast and white-rimmed in his darkish cranium. He had his finger off the set off, yet remained in a shooter’s stance, each muscle demanding. Quincy felt it in addition. His gaze was once ping-ponging far and wide. attempting to see every thing, targeting not anything. He was once wasting it, Kincaid used to be wasting it. that they had began as pros, and now have been schoolboys, spooked out within the neighborhood cemetery. “I don’t see anything,” Kincaid stated brusquely. “Me neither.” “But I’m lovely definite if he used to be.
Door opened, slammed close. The noise woke her, jerked her out of 1 darkish position and into one other. A moment creak of steel and the trunk should have been opened, simply because without warning, she may think the rain on her blindfolded face. struggle, she proposal dimly, suffering to regain her previous readability. Kick legs, punch palms. She couldn’t pull herself jointly. The fuel fumes had permeated her mind, leaving her in a dense fog the place the one factor she desired to do used to be throw up. She lay curled within the car,.
Stranger in the end. probably he was once a person they either knew, an affiliate or perhaps a pal. Quincy had an uncomfortable suspicion then. One he didn’t like having in any respect. “Do you like your wife?” the mechanized voice intoned. Quincy closed his eyes. It used to be now not an exceptional query. He may possibly suppose the threat at the back of it, the promise of destiny discomfort. “Rainie has constantly been a superb wife,” he stated quietly. “We’ve been expecting adopting a baby jointly. She’s very lively locally. In.
PST She couldn't doze off. wouldn't go to sleep. completely, certainly are not doze off. Rainie compelled herself to stay vigilant, hyperaware. She keen on the sound of water, dripping down the cellar partitions, the texture of Dougie’s small physique, pressed opposed to her aspect, the scent of mold filling her nostrils. She used to be freezing, shivering in periodic spasms that wrenched via her aching physique and rattled her tooth. She used the soreness to maintain herself alert. It gave her anything.
Can’t! I’m tied to a pipe! I can’t move!” “Oh no.” Rainie attempted to stagger to her ft, to discover Dougie at midnight. yet her legs wouldn’t circulation, her physique wouldn’t cooperate. She remained sprawled at the chilly flooring, feeling the water upward push opposed to her cheek. The hissing sound had won momentum and was once now followed via a gurgle. the guy had burst a pipe. He used to be flooding the basement. He had his facts of lifestyles. Now, he’d placed them down right here to die. 35 Wednesday, 10:41 a.m. PST Lieutenant.