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Back The Lying House Save as PDF
Chapters (103)
  1. Cover
  2. Back Cover Text
  3. Praise
  4. Booklist
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. 67
  74. 68
  75. 69
  76. 70
  77. 71
  78. 72
  79. 73
  80. 74
  81. 75
  82. 76
  83. 77
  84. 78
  85. 79
  86. 80
  87. 81
  88. 82
  89. 83
  90. 84
  91. 85
  92. 86
  93. 87
  94. 88
  95. 89
  96. 90
  97. 91
  98. 92
  99. 93
  100. 94
  101. Epilogue
  102. Acknowledgments and a Personal Note
  103. Excerpt

She thought for a moment, went to the security system’s control panel and disarmed the sliding door and then returned to it.

This is where it happened.

On the other side of the glass, the pool water sparkled in the sunlight.

Lisa opened the door, stepped into the warmth, but felt a chill slither up her spine as she looked at the poolside spot where he’d dragged her, continuing to grab her breasts and between her legs before vanishing.

She froze when she heard a small, mechanical whirr.

Lisa turned, looked up. One of their new dome security cameras with its automatic motion sensor had locked onto her, doing its job as the intruder’s threat suddenly echoed in her head.

I know everything about you. I’ll be watching you. I’m going to come back and—

11

The office of the Asgaard-T-Chace Group was on the fifty-first floor of the new Coral Cloud Tower, which jutted sixty stories up from downtown Brickell.

It was among the tallest of the city’s skyscrapers, and Jeff was awed by the spectacular view it gave him of Miami’s world-class architecture: condos, hotels, soaring construction cranes, scaffolding-clad towers and other high-rises. He could see the water to the horizon, the cruise ships at the port, the stadiums, and expressways weaving through the metropolis at his feet.

He’d come a long way from Cleveland and that drafty fifth-floor office in the crumbling brick building on East Ninth Street. He shuddered at how the place rattled whenever winter winds knifed through the city.

Looking out over the water, he was carried back in time to when he was a boy, living in a van with his mother on a Chicago street. It held a foul smell of sleeping bags, fast-food containers, heaps of clothes, empty liquor bottles and drug crap. A curtain divided the front cab from the back where they slept on a mattress. Jeff would wear headphones to shut out the moaning whenever his mother was behind the curtain with a man. Listening to music, Jeff would ache for his dad and for the time when his parents worked in the appliance factory, when they had money and a house, when they were happy. Until that morning…

That morning had been different. They were up before the sun, shivering in the cold gray predawn light, Jeff’s heart nearly bursting with excitement because he was now old enough to hunt with his own gun.

His dad had shown him everything, taught him to respect his gun, drilled into him how safety was paramount. It had been a glorious, surreal day until the sound of the shot shattered the calm and changed Jeff’s life forever…