Roadside Crosses: A Kathryn Dance Novel
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
"Astonishing" (New York Times Book Review) suspense master Jeffery Deaver brings back investigative agent Kathryn Dance (The Sleeping Doll) in a timely and chilling bestseller.
Roadside crosses are appearing along the highways of the Monterey Peninsula, not as memorials to past accidents but as markers for fatalities yet to come . . . and someone, armed with information gleaned from careless and all-too-personal blog postings, intends to carry out those killings. Kathryn Dance and her C.B.I. team know when the attacks will take place, but who will be the victims? Her body language expertise leads her to a recent fatal car crash, and to the driver, Travis Brigham, a gaming-obsessed teen who’s become the target of vicious cyberbullies. And when Travis disappears, Kathryn must lead a furious manhunt in the elusive world of bloggers and social networking, where nothing is as it seems. . . .
them to move to a hotel? This morning she’d had to ask her brother, a big man who’d been a bouncer in college, to escort the boys to their day camp, stay there and bring them back. She bolted the door behind them. “Can I get you anything?” Patrizia asked Ashton. “No, no, I’m fine, thanks.” Patrizia walked him to the door of her husband’s office, her eyes taking in the backyard through a large window in the hallway. A tap of concern in her chest. Had she seen something in the bushes behind
full-time. And he campaigns it hard.” “What does that mean, ‘campaign’?” Boling scrolled down to the “On the Home Front” thread on the homepage. Http://www.thechiltonreport.com WE’RE GOING GLOBAL! Am pleased to report that The Report has been getting raves from around the world. It’s been selected as one of the lead blogs in a new RSS feed (we’ll call it “Really Simple Syndication”) that will link thousands of other blogs, websites and bulletin boards throughout the world. Kudos to you, my
hear what.” “And then?” “He picks up the squirrel and walks around the cross again five times—I was counting. Three and five . . . Maybe it was a message, a clue, if somebody could figure it out.” After The Da Vinci Code, Dance had observed, a lot of witnesses tended to decrypt their observations rather than just say what they’d seen. “Anyway, he opened his backpack again and pulled out this stone and a knife. He used the stone to sharpen the blade. Then he held the knife over the squirrel. I
extension of that is that he’s angry with you too.” “You really think so?” “I think we can’t afford to dismiss it.” “But my family’s—” “I’ve ordered a car stationed outside your house. A deputy from the sheriff’s office.” “Thank you . . . thank you. I’ll tell Pat and the boys to be on the lookout for anything odd.” “You’re all right?” She nodded at the bandage. “It’s nothing.” “You need a ride home?” “Pat’s coming to pick me up.” Dance started outside. “Oh, and for God’s sake, leave
The dog stood, assessed that no food or ball playing figured in the deal and leapt off the bed to join her companion, Dylan, on the shabby rug they used as a futon, leaving Dance once more alone in bed. Jon Boling, she reflected. Then decided perhaps it was better not to spend much time on him. Not just yet. In any case, at that moment, her musings vanished as the mobile phone by the bed, sitting next to her weapon, trilled. Instantly, she flipped the light on, shoved her glasses on her nose