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Gone

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Overview

From New York Times bestseller Lisa Gardner, author of Alone and The Killing Hour, comes a thriller that goes from heartbreaking to heartstopping in the blink of an eye. When someone you love vanishes without a trace, how far would you go to get them back For ex-FBI profiler Pierce Quincy, it's the beginning of his worst nightmare: a car abandoned on a desolate stretch of Oregon highway, engine running, purse on the driver's seat. And his estranged wife, Rainie Conner, gone, leaving no clue to her fate. Did one of the ghosts from Rainie's troubled past finally catch up with her Or could her disappearance be the result of one of the cases they'd been working - a particularly vicious double homicide or the possible abuse of a deeply disturbed child Rainie took too close to heart. Together with his daughter, FBI agent Kimberly Quincy, Pierce is battling the local authorities, racing against time, and frantically searching for answers to all the questions he's been afraid to ask.

Editorial Reviews

Former FBI profiler Pierce Quincy's marriage is on the rocks, but things go from bad to worse when his wife, Rainie, goes missing. A kidnapper soon contacts Quincy with a somewhat unusual ransom demand, leaving Quincy and the investigation team with no choice but to play the kidnapper's game to keep Rainie alive. The story is told from alternating points of view, showing Quincy's efforts to find his wife and Rainie's struggle against her cruel captor. The plot is formulaic and derivative, but the abridgment makes it simple to follow, so listeners should have no trouble keeping up. Kairos's voice is light and pleasant, and while her narration is not superb, it does get the job done. Kairos modulates her voice sufficiently to distinguish between male and female voices, but the accents she attempts are beyond her and come off sounding a bit silly. For the most part, the narration is engaging and effectively propels the story forward, but Kairos-and Gardner-occasionally lays it all on a bit too thick, taking the narrative (and the narration) into the realm of tepid melodrama. Simultaneous release with the Bantam hardcover (Reviews, Nov. 21). (Jan.) Copyright 2006 Reed Business Information. -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.

Author Information

Bio of Lisa Gardner

Lisa Gardner is the New York Times bestselling author of Gone, Alone, The Killing Hour, The Survivors Club, The Next Accident, The Other Daughter, The Third Victim, and The Perfect Husband. She lives with her family in New England, where she is at work on her next novel of suspense.

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Additional Info

Imprint

Random House

Filesize

1.48 MB

Number of Pages

352

eBook ISBN

9780553902280

Excerpt from: Gone by Lisa Gardner

1.

Tuesday, 12:24 a.m. PST

She is dreaming again. She doesnýt want to. She wrestles with the sheets, tosses her head, tries to keep the dream version of herself from walking up those stairs, from opening that door, from entering the gloom.

She wakes up stuffing the scream back into her throat, eyes bulging and still seeing things she doesnýt want to see. Reality returns in slow degrees, as she registers the gray-washed walls, the dark-eyed windows, the empty side of the bed.

She heads for the bathroom, sticking her head under the faucet and gulping mouthfuls of lukewarm water. She can still hear the rain thundering outside. It seems like it has been raining forever this November, but maybe thatýs only her state of mind.

She goes into the kitchen. Noteýs still on the table. Seven days later, she doesnýt read it anymore, but canýt quite bring herself to throw it away.

Refrigerator inventory time: yogurt, tuna fish, pineapple, eggs. She grabs the eggs, then realizes they expired two weeks ago.

Screw it, she goes back to bed.

Same dream, same images, same visceral scream.

One a.m., she gets up for good. She showers, scrounges for clean clothes, then stares at her gaunt reflection in the mirror.

ýHow do you spell fuckup? R-A-I-N-I-E.ý

She goes for a drive.

Tuesday, 2:47 a.m. PST
ýBabyýs crying,ý he mumbled.

ýWake up.ý

ýMmmm, honey, itýs your turn to get the kid.ý

ýCarl, for Godýs sake. Itýs the phone, not the baby, and itýs for you. Snap out of it.ý

Carlton Kincaidýs wife, Tina, elbowed him in the ribs. Then she tossed him the phone and burrowed back under the covers, pulling the down comforter over her mocha-colored head. Tina wasnýt a middle-of-the-night sort of person.

Unfortunately, neither was Kincaid. Sergeant Detective, Major Crimes, Portland office of the Oregon State Police, he was supposed to be prepared for these sort of calls. Sound intelligent. Commanding even. Kincaid hadnýt gotten a good nightýs sleep in nearly eight months now, however, and was feeling it. He stared sulkily at the phone, and thought it had better be damn good.