Product Description

Her worst nightmare brought back to life, she risks everything for a second shot at justice.

For thirty years, FBI scientist Olivia St. Martin has lived with guilt and one abiding certainty–that while she wasn’t able to save her sister’s life, she did testify and helped to convict the rapist and killer. When shocking new evidence exonerates the man Olivia is sure she saw abduct her sister, she breaks every rule in the book to uncover the truth.

Driven by the possibility that she put the wrong man behind bars, Olivia discovers that a serial killer has been at large all these years. Believing that the monster has just struck again in Seattle, Olivia leaves her lab and poses as a field agent, sharing her unofficial investigation with a hardworking Seattle cop. Olivia doesn’t want to lie to detective Zack Travis. And she certainly doesn’t want to fall in love. But as the investigation intensifies, Olivia and Zack find that they’re rapidly losing control–over their hearts, their secrets, and a case that threatens to consume them.

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #129836 in Books
• Published on: 2006-02-28
• Released on: 2006-02-28
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Mass Market Paperback
• 432 pages

Features

• ISBN13: 9780345485236
• Condition: NEW
• Notes: Brand New from Publisher. No Remainder Mark.
• Click here to view our Condition Guide and Shipping Prices

From Publishers Weekly
The latest from Brennan (The Hunt) is a satisfying romantic thriller that pits a smart, gutsy heroine against a serial killer more than three decades into his brutal career. Olivia St. Martin, a scientist with the FBI, is stunned to learn that new DNA evidence has exonerated Brian Hall, the man she helped put away 34 years ago for her sister's murder. Olivia's research reveals that her sister's true killer may be responsible for the rape and murder of almost 30 young girls, including two recent slayings in Seattle. When her supervisor refuses to involve the FBI, Olivia travels to Washington herself, posing as a field agent, to join Seattle Police Det. Zack Travis's investigation. As Zack and Olivia try to find a missing girl before she becomes the next victim, they discover the chemistry between them and soon share more than a case. A subplot involving Hall's quest for revenge adds depth to the novel and propels it to a tense conclusion. While it lacks the nail-biting of topnotch romantic suspense, Brennan's effort should provide adequate escapist fare for fans of the genre. (March)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

About the Author
Allison Brennan is the author of ten bestselling romantic thrillers, including The Prey, Speak No Evil, Killing Fear, and Playing Dead. For thirteen years she worked as a consultant in the California State Legislature before leaving to devote herself fully to her family and writing. She is a member of Romance Writers of America, Mystery Writers of America, and International Thriller Writers. She lives in Northern California with her husband, Dan, and their five children.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter One


Twelve Years Later

 Nick Thomas stared at the outline of the petite body under the blinding yellow tarp. He pinched the bridge of his nose, swallowing anger so bitter he could taste it. The foul stench of death surrounded him and he turned away. 

He still pictured the dead, broken body of twentyyear- old Rebecca Douglas as he’d found her only an hour ago. 

“Sheriff?” 

Nick looked up as Deputy Lance Booker approached. He was clean-cut, a good cop, though a mite wet behind the ears. Much like Nick had been twelve years ago when he’d been called out to his first murder scene. 

“Deputy.” 

“Jim said there’s a guy claiming to be an FBI agent at the road wanting to be let through. Quincy Peterson.” Quinn. Nick hadn’t seen him in years, ten to be exact, but they’d shared an e-mail relationship since he was elected sheriff more than three years ago. After the Croft sisters had been found. 

Now there were seven dead girls. Seven that they knew about. 

“Let him through.” 

“Yes, sir.” Booker frowned, but relayed the orders through his walkie-talkie. In matters that would as a rule fall under their local jurisdiction, no law officer welcomed outside interference, and usually Nick was no different. He didn’t mention that it was his call to Quinn last week that precipitated this visit. 

Nick turned and walked away from the deputy, away from the bright tarp, down the path to where Rebecca Douglas’s last steps were evident. He squatted next to an unusable footprint, a mess in wet, hardening mud. It might have been Rebecca’s last step. Or the killer’s. It had rained nearly three inches in the last two days, a deluge that saturated a ground recently recovered from a cold, wet Montana winter. The clouds had broken this morning, the sky such a vivid blue and the air so refreshing that Nick would have enjoyed it if he hadn’t been called to a crime scene. 

He closed his eyes and breathed the clean, crisp air of his Gallatin Valley. He loved Montana, the vast beauty and sheer majesty of its mountains, its swift rivers, green valleys, big sky. The people were good, too, down-toearth. They cared about their neighbors, took care of their own. When Rebecca Douglas was declared missing, hundreds of men and women–many from the university where she’d been a student–had scoured the wilderness between Bozeman and Yellowstone looking for her. 

Nick’s jaw tightened in restrained fury. Good people, but for one. One who had killed Rebecca and at least six other women in the past fifteen years. And other women were still missing. Would they ever find their bodies? Had the harsh Montana weather or four-legged animals obliterated their remains? He’d never forget finding Penny Thompson’s remains–nothing but a skull and scattered bones. She was identified through her dental records. 

Nick surveyed the area. Tall pines grew primarily downslope; as the mountain rose the trees thinned out. The ancient, heavily overgrown road he’d driven on was unmapped. Possibly an old logging trail, it appeared to end here, in this natural clearing roughly thirty feet square. On the edge of this clearing, Rebecca’s body lay. They’d mark off the area in grids and search for anything that might possibly lead back to the killer. But if it was the same bastard, they’d find nothing. He was so damn perfect in his every crime that even their one surviving witness could tell them little. Defeat weighed heavily in Nick’s heart, but he would not give up. Sometimes, he hated his job. 

He turned when he heard an SUV roll into the clearing, rocks and muddy clumps of leaves shooting out from the backs of all four tires. Sun reflected off the windshield and Nick shielded his eyes to watch Quinn approach. 

The SUV jerked to a stop behind Nick’s dark green police-issue truck. The driver’s door opened and Quincy Peterson jumped out, slamming the door behind him and striding toward Nick. Quinn hadn’t changed much since Nick had last seen him, still looked more like a damn cover model than a fifteen-year veteran of the FBI. Nick stood and absently brushed the dirt off his jeans. 

“Rebecca Douglas?” Quinn nodded toward the covered body. His face was blank, but his dark eyes revealed the same anger and sadness that Nick felt. 

“Yep. We’ll need a positive ID, but–” There was no doubt it was the missing woman. He glanced at Quinn and raised an eyebrow at the bandage over his left eye. 

“Bar fight?” he asked, half joking. 

Quinn reached up and touched the bandage as if he’d forgotten it was there. “The last few days have been eventful,” he said. “I’ll tell you about it later.” He glanced around. “When are you processing the scene?” “I wanted you to check it out first, but I have my men waiting up on the main highway.” 

Nick didn’t know why the Fed made him feel so inferior. Maybe it had something to do with Quinn’s quiet confidence, his knack for seeing through bullshit, always getting to the heart of the matter. Or maybe it was because Nick had puked his guts out at his first murder scene and Quincy Peterson hadn’t. 

Or maybe it was because the woman Nick loved was in love with Quinn. 

Despite all that, there was no one Nick trusted more than Special Agent Quincy Peterson. 

Quinn bent down, pulled on latex gloves, and lifted the tarp. His square jaw clenched and a vein twitched in his neck at the sight. 

Rebecca had been beautiful. Now, her long blonde hair was tangled, matted, and caked in mud. The happy face reproduced on thousands of flyers was gone. She was swollen, bruised, grotesque in death. The recent rains had cleaned some of the dirt from her naked body, leaving her pale and blue. 

Her neck had been cut, slashed deep with a sharp knife, though there was very little blood to see. Most of it had been washed into the ground by the storm, along with any trace evidence. Her body showed signs of abuse. Torture. Bruises of all shapes and hues of purple covered her skin. Her breasts had been clamped into some sort of vise. The strange marks wouldn’t have in- dicated that to most eyes, but both Nick and Quinn had read the coroner’s reports for each of the six other women murdered in these woods, and had grown familiar with this killer’s M.O. 

Quinn removed the tarp to study the victim’s legs and feet, much as Nick had done when he first arrived on scene. Her left leg was crooked, broken. Her feet were covered in raw blisters and deep cuts. From running. She was thin, so pale, empty. Clinically, her gaunt skin told the cops that she’d bled out, her life drained from her. She’d died quickly; nobody could survive long with their carotid artery sliced open. Small consolation for the previous week of terror she’d lived through. Quinn covered the body. “Coroner been called?” Nick nodded. “He’ll be out by noon. He was in the middle of an autopsy on that hiker we found up on the north ridge the other day.” 

“So who found the body?” 

“Three boys–the McClain brothers and Ryan Parker. The Parkers have a spread three, four miles west of here. The boys took a couple horses for the day, were going to shoot their .22s at rabbits and whatnot.” He shrugged and added, “It’s Saturday.” 

“Where are they now?” 

“A deputy took them home. Told them to sit tight at the Parkers’ until I came by.” 

Quinn nodded, surveying the scene that Nick had marked with yellow and black crime scene tape. Observing the clearing, the old path, the trees. 

“It looks like she came up through that brush over there,” Nick gestured. “I checked it out, but didn’t go down the trail yet.” 

“If you can call it a trail,” Quinn said, frowning at the overgrowth. “I’ll take a quick look while you call in your team. How many people do you have?” 

“I have a dozen of my own men right now, more later, and a crime scene specialist. I’ll need volunteers if we’re going to do this right.” 

“Agreed. The more eyes the better, but no hotshots. We can’t have someone going off half-cocked.” Quinn put his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “I know you were hoping the bastard dropped dead after Ellen and Elaine Croft were found. I’m sorry I couldn’t come out personally then. But Agent Thorne is good. She would have found something.” 

Nick agreed, but he still felt so damn helpless. The Butcher was the only bastard who had ever gotten away with murder under his watch. “It’s been three frickin’ years! Three years since he killed. And we had nothing then–no clues, no leads, no suspects.” 

“And there are other girl...

Customer Reviews

Wow!
Olivia St. Martin lives daily with the knowledge that as a young child she was unable to prevent the abduction and murder of her older sister, Missy. She has only the small satisfaction that her testimony resulted in the murderer's imprisonment.

Olivia is the director of the Trace Evidence and Materials Analysis division of the FBI in Virginia. When she learns that DNA evidence proves that Brian Hall did not murder Missy, Olivia is determined to find the truth.

Her investigation reveals that a serial killer has been on the loose for years. He surfaced in New York several years after Missy's murder and then appeared in Kansas, Atlanta, Nashville and other cities. His twenty-nine victims in thirty-four years were all blonde females between the ages of 9 and 12. Olivia's boss refuses to involve the agency so she travels on her own to Washington State where two of the recent murders occurred.

In Washington she joins Seattle Police Detective Zack Travis' investigation. They begin to work closely together to hunt the killer--and become romantically involved. Time is running out and Olivia struggles to solve the case and prevent more murders.

Allison Brennan does murder better than almost everyone writing in the romantic suspense genre does. She writes scintillating thrillers that keep you turning the pages until you breathlessly reach the conclusion. And then you want more. She is becoming one of my favorite authors.

Armchair Interviews says: For other exciting thrillers by Allison Brennan, read The Prey and The Hunt.

Good Finish
I agree with the previous reviews in that this one moved a little slow and took a little longer to read. I am not from Seattle, actually I have never been there, so the apparent errors in geography did not effect my enjoyment of the book. I still think it's worth the purchase price and will continue to read her work.

What I Expected
After reading her first two books, I knew what to expect with the third and wasn't disappointed like some of the other reviewers. I like the fact that the romance isn't in your face or contrived but the attraction slowly works up to believable results. Good plots in all three books - yes, they're similar but I find no fault with that. Olivia and Zack were both very likeable. My favorite is still the first in series. Looking forward to her next three books.