By Sandra Brown
2013 Retail ePub from OverDrive
A scientific miracle supplies television character Cat Delaney greater than a brand new middle. together with her moment likelihood at existence Cat trades Hollywood for San Antonio, the place she hosts a television exhibit for kids with designated wishes. right here she meets Alex Pierce, an ex-cop became crime writer-and the 1st guy to work out her as a lady on the grounds that her surgical procedure. yet her new international turns sinister while deadly "accidents" commence killing different center recipients, and a mysterious stalker begins shadowing her each stream. quickly Cat realizes Alex may-or could not-be her most crucial best friend and that her new center comes at a poor fee: a tangled net of secrets and techniques and somebody decided to take her lifestyles.
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Additional info for Charade
Last spring, some people wandered across my neighbour’s field with their dog and killed three of his lambs. ’ ‘I’m sorry about that but…’ ‘And Rod Wilson, just over there, he used to send calves over to Ostend. They started with the picketing of the port at Goldswan Green. Couple of months ago, Rod’s barn was burned down. It’ll be somebody’s house next. ’ ‘All right, all right. You know what I’ll do? ’ ‘I did. I’ve bought Elm House on the other side of Lymne. Lumney. ’ ‘Did you now. We always like visitors from London.
Find me some bloody evidence. ’ Six In just a couple of weeks I had managed to construct a life for myself. I had a house and a garden. The house was old with large windows and a solid, four-square shape and stood on what must have been a quayside long ago. Now it looked forlornly across marshland to the sea, half a mile away. In the hectic few days after buying the house in November I had asked around in the estate agent and in the shop a couple of miles up the road in Lymne and found a child-minder.
She was surprised at herself, embarrassed almost. When she was a child, her uncle had led her through a slaughterhouse outside Fuenteobejuna and had smiled down at her as she refused to faint in the face of the blood and dismemberment and above all the steam rising from the cold stone floor. That was the smell she had remembered. It wasn’t a barn at all. There were splashes of blood across such a wide area, even on the ceiling, on the far wall, that Mr Mackenzie might have exploded. Mostly, though, it was in dark pools on his lap and on the sofa.
Charade by Sandra Brown