Long Shadows: From the number one bestselling author (Amos Decker series Book 7)

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Since I pretty much can’t forget anything, it’s not likely I’d forget you, is it, Mary?” He patted himself on both cheeks, working to remove the fuzziness from his mind. Then his thoughts settled on the timing of the call, which was in itself a warning.

You mean I can put sentences together. The…me-medications help me with that, sometimes. This is one of those times. I’m…not usually like this. I’m usually… not good.” A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy. Mary? Mary!” he shouted into the phone. When no response came, his energy wilted. Why are you screaming? She’s gone. You know she is.A single shot, which he believed—because he knew Lancaster—had been delivered with deliberate care and competent accuracy. She would have chosen the temple, the chin, or the open mouth as her entry point. Any one of those would get the job done. She continued as though he hadn’t spoken. She said, “I just remembered her before I called you. And only because I looked at a photo with her name on it. I forgot I had a daughter, Amos. For a time there was no Sandy Lancaster in existence for me. Can you understand how…terrible that is?” He had served justice in both cases, but it was, without doubt, a hollow outcome, marred by the fact that the justice was delivered too late for the victims. No amount of justice could return the dead to the living; the satisfaction gained from learning the truth was dwarfed by the loss. He had gone there the month before for some routine tests, which they had done on him annually ever since he had been there as a patient after his football injury.

She cut in. “Earl doesn’t know that I am alone. He wouldn’t want that. He’s normally very careful about that.” Another David Baldacci book that was a blast to read. It's Long Shadows and I received it from Pan Macmillan via Netgalley. It will be published on the 10th of November. My only gripe with Baldacci's books is that there inevitably comes a point when they're over, and that he only publishes two of them a year. I always enjoy reading Baldacci, and this one was the best in a while among many excellent ones. And then came the oppressive thud of Mary Lancaster’s body hitting the floor. He was certain she was dead. Lancaster had always been a good planner, results oriented. Such people excelled at killing themselves.Mine. He had come close to filling it on several occasions, once by his own hand, while staring at his murdered child as she sat, in death, in her own house.