BONUS: This edition contains an excerpt from Lisa Gardner's Love You More, and a peek at the script for The Killing , AMC’s original series, which tracks the murder of a Seattle teenager and the gripping investigation it sparks, only on AMC.
THE SURVIVORS CLUB
. . . that’s what Jillian Hayes, Carol Rosen, and Meg Pesaturo call it. They won’t consider themselves victims. They are survivors. They helped lead the investigation that caught the man who changed their lives forever. Now they are the prime suspects in his murder.
Could three ordinary women have been driven to do the unthinkable? Detective Sergeant Roan Griffin knows all too well what can drive even the best people to cross the line. Has someone in the Survivors Club become a killer? And if so, can he blame her, let alone bring her to justice?
“Starts fast and never stops moving. Clever, complex, and original!”—Phillip Margolin
“Has it all: provocative plotting, engaging characters, and a razor-sharp emotional edge.”—Stephen White
“This club is worth the dues.”— People
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|Title of Mystery & Detective eBook: The Survivors Club|
|Release Date: 04-29-2003|
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|Parent title||The Survivors Club|
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The Survivors Club
The blonde caught in the sights of the Leupold Vari-X III 1.5-5 x 20mm Matte Duplex Illuminated Reticle scope didn't seem to fear for her life. At the moment, in fact, she was doing her hair. Now she had out a black compact and was checking her lipstick, a light, pearly pink. Jersey adjusted the Leupold scope as the reporter pursed her lips for her own reflection and practiced an alluring pout. Next to her, her cameraman let his heavy video equipment fall from his shoulder to the ground and rolled his eyes. Apparently, he recognized this drill and knew it would be a while.
Ten feet away from the blonde, another reporter, this one male-WNAC-TV, home of the Fox Futurecast, because heaven forbid anyone call it a forecast anymore-was meticulously picking pieces of lint off of his mud-brown suit. His cameraman sat in the grass, sipping Dunkin' Donuts coffee and blinking sleepily. On the other side of the stone pillar that dominated the sprawling World War Memorial Park, a dozen other reporters were scattered about, double-checking their copy, double-checking their appearance, yawning tiredly, then double-checking the street.
Eight-oh-one a.m., Monday morning. At least twenty-nine minutes until the blue van from Adult Correctional Institutions (ACI) was due to arrive at the Licht Judicial Complex in downtown Providence and everyone was bored. Hell, Jersey was bored. He'd been camped out on the roof of the sprawling brick courthouse since midnight last night. And damn, it got cold at night this early in May. Three Army blankets, a black coverall, and black leather Bob Allen shooting gloves and he still shivered until the sun came up. That was a little