Last, but certainly not least, heartfelt thanks to my incredibly supportive family and friends, who put up with me while I was writing this book. A very special thank you to my mother, Sheila, and my husband, Dan, for reading this book—more than once—and for giving me honest criticism. I could never have done it without you.

About the Author

Hilary Davidson was a journalist before she turned to the dark side and started writing crime fiction. Her novels include the Lily Moore series—The Damage Done, The Next One to Fall, and Evil in All Its Disguises—the Shadows of New York series—One Small Sacrifice and Don’t Look Down—and the standalone novels Blood Always Tells and Her Last Breath. She is also the author of some fifty short stories; a few of the earliest have been gathered in a collection called The Black Widow Club. Her fiction has won two Anthony Awards, a Derringer Award, and a host of other accolades. Toronto born and raised, she moved to New York City in October 2001 because of her very persuasive husband, Daniel. She is also the author of eighteen nonfiction books.

Read an Excerpt From the Second Book in the Lily Moore Series, The Next One to Fall

Read an Excerpt From the Second Book in the Lily Moore Series, The Next One to Fall

Standing at the edge of the mountain, I imagined what it would feel like to let go. There were thousands of feet between me and the valley of the winding Urubamba River. It was lush and green and oddly inviting. I stared down, feeling an exhilarating combination of anticipation and trepidation tugging at me.

“Say cheese, Tiger Lily.”

The voice shoved my dark thoughts aside. “Not another photo.” I looked at Jesse. “This is my fourth day in these clothes.”

“It’s only day two for that shirt. I’m pretty sure you changed yesterday.” Jesse tousled my hair. “You’re always so glamorous. It’s kinda fun to see you roughin’ it. Like Ava Gardner in Mogambo—you know, the scene where she tries to feed the baby elephant and gets mud all over her? That’s so cute.”

For a split second, I pictured the scene, and it almost made me smile. But the memory faded almost instantly, as if it were a relic of another life. I went back to studying the valley. “How high up are we?”

“Eight thousand feet. You breathin’ okay, Lil?”