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Hide: A Detective D. D. Warren Novel
 
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Hide: A Detective D. D. Warren Novel [Format Kindle]

Lisa Gardner

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Descriptions du produit

Extrait

Chapter One


My father explained it to me the first time when I was seven years old: The world is a system. School is a system. Neighborhoods are a system. Towns, governments, any large group of people. For that matter, the human body is a system, enabled by smaller, biological subsystems.

Criminal justice, definitely a system. The Catholic Church–don't get him started. Then there's organized sports, the United Nations, and of course, the Miss America Pageant.

"You don't have to like the system," he lectured me. "You don't have to believe in it or agree with it. But you must understand it. If you can understand the system, you will survive."

A family is a system.

I'd come home from school that afternoon to discover both of my parents standing in our front room. My father, a professor of mathematics at MIT, was rarely home before seven. Now, however, he stood next to my mother's prized floral sofa, with five suitcases stacked neatly by his feet. My mother was crying. When I opened the front door, she turned away as if to shield her face, but I could still see her shoulders shaking.

Both of my parents were wearing heavy wool coats, which seemed odd, given the relatively warm October afternoon.

My father spoke first: "You need to go into your room. Pick two things. Any two things you want. But hurry, Annabelle; we don't have much time."

My mother's shoulders shook harder. I set down my backpack. I retreated to my room, where I stared at my little pink-and-green painted space.

Of all the moments in my past, this is the one I would most like to have back. Three minutes in the bedroom of my youth. Fingers skimming over my sticker-plastered desk, skipping over framed photos of my grandparents, hopscotching past my engraved silver-plated brush and oversize hand mirror. I bypassed my books. Didn't even consider my marble collection or stash of kindergarten art. I remember making a positively agonizing choice between my favorite stuffed dog and my newest treasure, a bridal-dressed Barbie. I went with my dog, Boomer, then grabbed my cherished baby blankie, dark pink flannel with a light pink satin trim.

Not my diary. Not my stash of silly, doodle-covered notes from my best friend, Dori Petracelli. Not even my baby album, which would've at least given me photos of my mother for all the years to come. I was a young, frightened child, and I behaved childishly.

I think my father knew what I would choose. I think he saw it all coming, even back then.

I returned to our family room. My father was outside, loading the car. My mom had her hands wrapped around the pillar that divided the family room from the eat-in kitchen. For a minute, I didn't think she'd let go. She would take a stand, demand that my father stop this foolishness.

Instead, she reached out and stroked my long dark hair. "I love you so much." She grabbed me, hugging me fiercely, cheeks wet against the top of my head. The next moment, she pushed me away, wiping briskly at her face.

"Outside, honey. Your father's right–we have to be quick."

I followed my mother to the car, Boomer under my arm, blankie clutched in both hands. We took our usual places–my father in the driver's seat, my mother riding shotgun, me in the back.

My father backed our little Honda out of the drive. Yellow and orange leaves swirled down from the beech tree, dancing outside the car window. I spread my fingers against the glass as if I could touch them.

"Wave at the neighbors," my father instructed. "Pretend everything is normal."

That's the last we ever saw of our little oak-dotted cul-de-sac.

A family is a system.

We drove to Tampa. My mother had always wanted to see Florida, my father explained. Wouldn't it be nice to live amid palm trees and white sandy beaches after so many New England winters?

Since my mother had chosen our location, my father had picked our names. I would now be called Sally. My father was Anthony and my mother Claire. Isn't this fun? A new town and a new name. What a grand adventure.

I had nightmares in the beginning. Terrible, terrible dreams where I would wake up screaming, "I saw something, I saw something!"

"It's only a dream," my father would attempt to soothe me, stroking my back.

"But I'm scared!"

"Hush. You're too young to know what scared is. That's what daddies are for."

We didn't live amid palm trees and white sandy beaches. My parents never spoke of it, but as an adult looking back, I realize now that a Ph.D. in mathematics couldn't very well pick up where he left off, especially under an assumed identity. Instead, my father got a job driving taxis. I loved his new job. It meant he was home most of the day, and it seemed glamorous to be picked up from school in my own personal cab.

The new school was bigger than my old one. Tougher. I think I made friends, though I don't remember many specifics about our Florida days. I have more a general sense of a surreal time and place, where my afternoons were spent being drilled in self-defense for first-graders and even my parents seemed foreign to me:

My father, constantly buzzing around our one-bedroom apartment. "What'd you say, Sally? Let's decorate a palm tree for Christmas! Yes, sir, we're having fun now!" My mother, humming absently as she painted our family room a bright shade of coral, giggling as she bought a swimsuit in November, seeming genuinely intrigued as she learned to cook different kinds of flaky white fish.

I think my parents were happy in Florida. Or at least determined. My mother decorated our apartment. My father resumed his hobby of sketching. On the nights he didn't work, my mother would pose for him beside the window, and I would lie on the couch, content to watch my father's deft strokes as he captured my mother's teasing smile in a small charcoal sketch.

Until the day I came home from school to find suitcases packed, faces grim. No need to ask this time. I went into my room on my own. Grabbed Boomer. Found my blankie. Then retreated to the car and climbed in the back.

It was a long time before anyone said a word.

A family is a system.

To this day, I don't know how many cities we lived in. Or how many names I assumed. My childhood became a blur of new faces, new towns, and the same old suitcases. We would arrive, find the cheapest one-bedroom apartment. My father would set out the next day, always coming home with some kind of job–photo developer, McDonald's manager, salesclerk. My mother would unpack our meager belongings. I would be shuffled off to school.

I know I stopped talking as much. I know my mom did, too.

Only my father remained relentlessly cheerful. "Phoenix! I've always wanted to experience the desert. Cincinnati! Now, this is my kind of town. St. Louis! This will be the place for us!"

I don't remember suffering any more nightmares. They simply went away or were pushed aside by more pressing concerns. The afternoons I came home and found my mother passed out on the sofa. The crash courses in cooking because she could no longer stand up. Brewing coffee and forcing it down her throat. Raiding her purse for money so I could buy groceries before my father returned from work.

I want to believe he had to know, but to this day I'm not sure. It seemed for my mother and me at least, the more we took on other names, the more we gave away of ourselves. Until we became silent, ethereal shadows following in my father's blustery wake.

She made it until I was fourteen. Kansas City. We'd lasted nine months. My father had risen to manager in the automotive department of Sears. I was thinking of going to my first dance.

I came home. My mother–Stella, she was called then–was facedown on the sofa. This time no amount of shaking woke her up. I have a vague memory of racing across the hall. Of banging on our neighbor's door.

"My mother, my mother, my mother!" I screamed. And poor Mrs. Torres, who'd never been granted a smile or wave from any of us, threw open her door, bustled across the hall, and hands flying to her suddenly wet eyes, declared my mother dead.

Cops came. EMTs. I watched them remove her body. Saw the empty orange prescription bottle slip out of her pocket. One of the officers picked it up. He gave me a pitying look.

"Someone we should call?"

"My father will be home soon."

He left me with Mrs. Torres. We sat in her apartment, with its rich smells of jalape—o peppers and corn tamales. I admired the brightly striped curtains she had hanging on her windows and the bold floral pillows covering her worn brown sofa. I wondered what it would be like to have a real home again.

My father arrived. Thanked Mrs. Torres profusely. Ushered me away.

"You understand we can't tell them anything?" he kept saying over and over again, once we were safely tucked back inside our apartment. "You understand we have to be very careful? I don't want you saying a word, Cindy. Not one word. This is all very, very tricky."

When the cops returned, he did the talking. I heated up chicken noodle soup in the tiny kitchenette. I wasn't really hungry. I just wanted our apartment to smell like Mrs. Torres's apartment. I wanted my mom to be back home.

I found my father crying later. Curled up on the sofa, holding my mother's tattered pink robe. He couldn't stop. He sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

That was the first night my father slept in my bed. I know what you're thinking, but it wasn't like that.

A family is a system.

We waited three months for my mother's body. The state wanted an autopsy. I never did understand it all. But one day we had my mom back. We accompanied her from the morgue's office to the funeral home. She was put in a box labeled with someone else's name, then ...

From Publishers Weekly

Starred Review. In bestseller Gardner's first-rate follow-up to Alone (2005), Bobby Dodge, once a sniper for the Massachusetts State Police and now a police detective, gets called to a horrific crime scene in the middle of the night by fellow detective and ex-lover D.D. Warren. An underground chamber has been discovered on the property of a former Boston mental hospital containing six small naked mummified female bodies in clear garbage bags. A silver locket with one of the corpses, which may be decades old, bears the name Annabelle Granger. Later, a woman shows up at the Boston Homicide offices claiming to be Annabelle Granger. Her resemblance to Catherine Gagnon (whose life Bobby saved in Alone) helps stoke a romance between her and Bobby both subtle and sizzling. The suspense builds as the police uncover links between patients at the hospital and long-ago criminal activities. Through expert use of red herrings, Gardner takes the reader on a nail-biting ride to the thrilling climax. (Feb.)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

Détails sur le produit

  • Format : Format Kindle
  • Taille du fichier : 2260 KB
  • Nombre de pages de l'édition imprimée : 404 pages
  • Pagination - ISBN de l'édition imprimée de référence : 1409105784
  • Editeur : Bantam (30 janvier 2007)
  • Vendu par : Amazon Media EU S.à r.l.
  • Langue : Anglais
  • ASIN: B000NJL7LE
  • Synthèse vocale : Non activée
  • X-Ray :
  • Classement des meilleures ventes d'Amazon: n°15.325 dans la Boutique Kindle (Voir le Top 100 dans la Boutique Kindle)
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Commentaires client les plus utiles sur Amazon.com (beta)
Amazon.com: 4.3 étoiles sur 5  254 commentaires
111 internautes sur 114 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
4.0 étoiles sur 5 Entertaining and quick read! 6 février 2007
Par Amy Y. - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié
I found this book to be an easy, enjoyable read. It pulled me in right from the beginning. It alternates between first and third person narratives which I normally find somewhat annoying but I think really added to the character development in this story.

Annabelle is at the center of the mystery. Her family has been on the run as long as she can remember but from what? When her father, obsessed with keeping his family safe, dies, Annabelle is left with only questions about her past and the unknown threat from which she has spent her life running.

Bobby Dodge is the detective brought into consult on gruesome discovery on the grounds of the long-defunct state mental hospital. A piece of evidence at the scene ties Annabelle to what remains of a horrible crime. Discovering Annabelle's identity and how she is related to this crime is what drew me in.

The plot, while somewhat complicated, never gets terribly convoluted and things are tied up neatly in the end. I felt like the conclusion, though satisfactory, was a little rushed and a little too neat. However, the characters were enjoyable and it was a light, quick read. I'd recommend it as a great vacation/beach read. It was never slow and there is some light handed romantic interest that never goes over the top. Just enough of everything, I'd say to be an all-around good read.
42 internautes sur 43 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
3.0 étoiles sur 5 Family secrets 7 juillet 2008
Par Linda Pagliuco - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Poche
You can run, but you can't hide - at least not forever. That's what decorator Annabelle Granger learns when, after 25 years of changing homes and changing names, she returns to Massachusetts where all the madness began. It's obvious to Annabelle that her parents were protecting their family from something or someone, but never once did they reveal the reason why, and now both have died. Shortly after establishing herself in Boston, Annabelle reluctantly becomes involved in helping the police with a 20 year old serial killer case. The deeper they delve, the more danger she's in.

Author Gardner manages to spring a few surprises in this thriller. Ultimately, the resolution owes more to luck (bad luck) than to solid evidence, but the ending is fairly satisfactory. Read this and you'll never view an abandoned mental institution in the same light again!
33 internautes sur 34 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Deliciously creepy 8 février 2007
Par Bookreporter - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié
Lisa Gardner's work is most easily classified within the thriller genre. But in her new novel, she infuses a solid, complex mystery into the plotline, nicely balancing excitement --- make that terror --- with whodunit elements to create a work easily accessible to fans of any genre. HIDE is much more than a nominal sequel to ALONE; it is a deliciously creepy tale that begins with a crime scene so startling and horrific that it resonates throughout the book.

HIDE marks the return of Massachusetts State Police Detective Bobby Dodge and his former partner, Boston Police Detective D.D. Warren. Despite Dodge's newly minted position, Warren brings him into a Boston investigation. The crime scene --- a vision of nightmares that will shut you down --- is reminiscent of the Richard Umbrio case that figured so prominently in ALONE. As the result of evidence found at the current scene, one of the victims is tentatively identified as Annabelle Granger.

Thus, Dodge and Warren are baffled when a woman shows up in their office and identifies herself as Granger. She relates the story of a life lived on the run, with her family changing residences and identities on an annual basis, crisscrossing the country as if being pursued by an omnipresent, unknown tracker.

Dodge and Warren's investigation is further complicated by the fact that Granger bears an uncanny, startling resemblance to Catherine Gagnon, who as a child was one of Umbrio's kidnapping victims. Gagnon grew up into an exotic, enigmatic lady who may have manipulated Dodge into shooting her husband.

Another issue is the slowly blossoming, if reluctant, attraction between Dodge and Granger. Dodge struggles with the impropriety of a relationship with a subject he is charged with protecting, and possibly investigating. Granger finds that she is experiencing emotions long gone cold, if ever felt at all.

Gardner keeps the plot wheels slowly but steadily moving toward a cataclysmic conclusion that ties up the apparently irresolvable plotlines with a plausible and unpredictable explanation.

While built upon the foundation of ALONE, HIDE stands firmly on its own. Primarily character driven --- the crime scene at the beginning is over two decades old, and most of the violence in the book is confined to one scene --- HIDE is part puzzle, part romance and all good. Don't miss this one.

--- Reviewed by Joe Hartlaub
19 internautes sur 21 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 "At eighteen our convictions are hills from which we look; at forty-five they are the caves in which we hide" F.Scott Fitzgerald 19 novembre 2009
Par michael a. draper - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Poche
Bobby Doyle is a Mass. State Police Detective. He's called out to the scene of a gruesome mass murder that took place in the grounds of the old State Mental Hospital. Six bodies of children are found in an underground chamber. It is estimated that the crime took place over twenty five years ago.

One of the bodies is identified by a chain around her neck wih the name Annabelle Granger. However, a woman who read about the crime told police that she was Annabelle and that she had given the locket to her friend, Dori Petracelli, when she was seven years old.

Annabelle also bears a striking resemlblance to Catherine Gagnon who Bobby met at a hostage scene. When she was younger, she had been captive in an underground chamber but was rescued by hunters who heard her cries. Later, in the hostage scene, events occurred that saved Catherine but Bobby questioned if the entire scene had been staged and that he may have been set up.

The reader learns the background of why Annibelle had been targeted by a preditor and what happened next.

Bobby Doyle is a well described character. He is brave but has a conscience and worries if his actions are always the most appropriate. He is easy to sympathize with and enjoy.

Lisa Gardner creates suspense as if she were a chef, putting the ingredients together for a feast. The momentum increases as we near the conclusion of this well crafted plot. In addition, the author gives her readers a surprise toward the end which pulls everything together in a professional manner.

Highly recommended.
16 internautes sur 18 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
3.0 étoiles sur 5 Great Beginning, Confounding Ending 28 juillet 2007
Par Jonah's Mom - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format:Relié
This was my first Lisa Gardner book, and I read it quickly. It was fast paced, interesting--a real page turner. However, the ending made absolutely no sense. Another reviewer termed it perfectly: "contrived." It was as if the author had run out of steam and needed to finish the book, so she threw something out there. *SPOILER ALERT*--What frustrated me the most was how Annabelle's highly "intelligent" father, was unable to track down his brother after he shot him in the head. Also, it would seem that someone shot in the head would probably suffer brain damage, so why would "Russell" think that his brother was still a threat, and instead of running from "Tommy," why not search for him?! But the most illogical "surprise," was how "Ben" coincidentally found Annabelle and "knew" it was her. Non-sensical, I say! Other than the disappointing ending, this was a good read.
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